Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39513 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 198(@200wpm)___ 158(@250wpm)___ 132(@300wpm)
As I reach for the bowl, the lab wags his tail with so much enthusiasm that he smacks it against my spice rack. Jars of paprika, cumin, and oregano clatter to the floor, sending a pungent, multicolored mess of spices into the air.
"You've got to be kidding me," I groan, torn between exasperation and amusement as I take in the mess.
"Where did he even come from?” Adalynn asks through peals of laughter.
“I have no idea!” I cry. “I have the back door open, but my yard is fenced.” I stare at the dog in shock. “Where did you come from, you adorable menace?”
The dog gives me a goofy grin in response, his tongue lolling out. I swear, he looks proud of himself, as if he knows exactly what he did and doesn’t regret it in the least.
I spot a tag on his collar, but before I can even look at it, he decides he’s done with the island. He hops down with surprising grace, trampling through the spices he spilled everywhere, and then trots into my living room like he owns the place.
My cat, Skeet, is going to love this.
"Come back here, you furry thief!" I call, chasing after the dog. But by the time I reach the living room, he’s already climbing up on the couch, leaving spicy footprints all over the pale blue fabric.
I watch as he stretches out, taking up nearly the entire length, and huffs out a sigh before closing his eyes.
He has no shame. None at all.
"I guess you've decided you live here now, huh?" I mutter, smiling despite myself.
His tail twitches.
“What’s happening?” Adalynn demands to know.
“The big thief just ate most of my meat, knocked my spice rack over, and now he’s napping on my couch like he owns the place,” I mumble, slowly approaching him to try to get another look at the tag on his collar.
My sister cracks up. “I swear, this is almost as good as the time that raccoon attacked you for your cupcakes, Heidi.”
I lean down to read the tag attached to his collar. My brows climb when I see Silver Spoon Falls Fire Department engraved beneath his name.
“His name is Rivin. He’s a fire dog.”
“He belongs to the fire department?”
“According to his tag.”
“How did he get way out there? You’re miles from the fire station.”
“I don’t…” I trail off as I remember Mrs. Abernathy and her friend gossiping over the fence a few days ago about a new firefighter moving in next door. Something about him being “such a sweet boy” for battling the Granite Hills wildfire raging outside of town.
He and I are apparently on different schedules because I’ve yet to meet him. But Mrs. Abernathy was quick to let me know that he’s handsome and single. I beat a hasty retreat after that comment. No offense, but I am not taking potential partner advice from a woman who has been married seven times.
“I think he belongs to my new neighbor. He must have climbed the fence,” I mutter to Adalynn.
“Oh, you have a hot firefighter for a neighbor? Why didn’t I know this? We are so having the next sister brunch at your house.”
“Uh, what the fuck?” Razor rumbles in the background. “Other men don’t even exist to you, pretty baby.”
“Oh, busted,” I say, giggling.
“Mind your business, Razor Montgomery,” Adalynn sniffs to her husband. “Hot firefighters don’t count.”
“They totally count,” I mutter, happily taking Razor’s side. What? He’s a famous rockstar who treats her like a princess. Of course I’m taking his side.
“I gotta go,” Adalynn squeals as Razor rumbles something unintelligible to her. “Good luck with the fire dog! Love you. Bye!”
“Talk to you—” I shake my head, smiling as she hangs up on me before I even get to say bye. I do not want to know what they’re doing right now. It’s probably dirty.
I glance back down at Rivin. “So, what am I going to do with you, huh?”
His only response is to wag his tail lazily. He doesn’t even bother opening his eyes.
“Come on, buddy. We’ve got to get you home,” I say, patting my leg in an attempt to get him off my couch.
He doesn’t even twitch this time.
“Great,” I mutter. “Now I have a kitchen to clean and a giant furball to wrangle before I can finish my recipe. And said furball doesn’t want to be wrangled.”
I briefly consider leaving him here while I run next door to request assistance from his owner but quickly decide there’s no way I’m leaving him unattended in here. God only knows what chaos he’ll cause next, especially with Skeet in the house. I don’t know if fire dogs like cats, but Skeet doesn’t like anyone or anything that isn’t me. Better not to risk it.
Instead, I grab my phone and text Dillon Armstrong, the sheriff. He’s sort of family. He’s married to Razor’s sister, and my younger sister, Charlie, is married to his wife’s boss’s twin. Small-town life is so much fun.