Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65913 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Also, she had an absolutely fantastic ass. I tried not to stare too hard today, but I’m no superhero. I’m a mere mortal man who likes a cute, round rear. But let’s give it up for her face too, with that spray of freckles across her nose, her clever green eyes, and lips that looked kissable whether she was wearing the Come to Bed Red lipstick that fell from her pocket or not.
Whoa.
I pump the brakes on the dirty-mind train.
I can’t think flirty, dirty thoughts about a woman, no matter how much I’d been hoping to bump into her again.
I have a mission.
This second, I’m Milo the Impervious, and I must vanquish the enemy and retrieve the treasure.
After I unclip my helmet, I carry my bike into the lobby, quickly scanning the list of businesses on the wall. The arbitrators are on the fifth floor, so I head to the freight elevator and punch the button.
As the lift shoots up, I square my shoulders, determined to keep my wits about me for the next few hours. I’ve got to get my dog back.
I must be strong and fearless. And I can’t go into the meeting looking like the Jolly Green Giant jizzed on my beard.
Taking out my phone, I click on the search bar, then speak: “Google, how do you remove glitter from a beard?”
“To remove glitter from a beard, Reddit recommends shave it off, you dumbass.”
I roll my eyes. “Fuck you, Google,” I mutter as the elevator arrives and the doors slide open. I’ll just wash my beard. Take that, search engine. This guy has common sense.
Well, sometimes.
When I step out of the elevator, I forget about glitter beards because the best girl in the whole world lunges at me. My heart bursts with happiness as Trudy tackles me. With one hand on my bike, I kneel to let my dog lick my face. Hell, maybe she can Roomba off the emerald specks.
“I missed you too, little lady,” I tell her, and for a few seconds, everything feels right in the world again.
It’s been nine long months of only weekend custody with my girl, but this purgatory will end today. I’m getting my pooch back, no matter what it takes with the arbitrators Callie’s lawyers picked.
When I stand, my Min-Pin mix thumping her tail and whining happily, I spot my ex a few feet away. I knew she’d be here. She brought the dog, of course. But I was enjoying that reunion without thinking about her. Now, she’s batting her lashes my way, and I have no choice but to deal with Callie.
“Milo, sweetheart. You have glitter in your beard. Let me help you,” she says.
Barf.
Like I don’t know her shtick—be as sweet as a sugar cookie so no one knows she’s draining her beaus of dough while dating other dudes. But I discovered her scheme when boyfriend Number Two contacted me to find out why the hell she was Venmoing me money. Um, for the rent. She lived with me while juggling boyfriends Number Three and Number Four too.
Yeah, that was fun.
“It’s fine,” I say gruffly.
She tuts. “You can’t go into arbitration looking like a mess. Let’s just make it easy. We can get back together and we’ll both get to have Baby.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes all the way to the back of my head. Like I’d name a dog Baby.
“Thanks, but I’d rather take the subway to work,” I say drily, then scan the hall for the bathroom, and, I hope, a bike storage closet.
I pat my thigh. Wiggling her butt, Trudy follows me as I wheel my bike a few feet away, rehearsing my plan for winning one hundred percent custody.
I’ve got pictures of the 5Ks Trudy and I ran together in the park, vaccination records going back four years, and even her dog helmet right here with me on my bike, which has a custom-built dog seat for a twenty-pound pup. Plus, I can prove I adopted her from the Little Friends shelter well before I met Callie, and I’ve got statements from the vet that I’ve brought her to all her appointments.
The best proof of all? Her loyalty. She’s following me. I am ready to nail this arbitration.
“Hold on, sweetheart. Let me show you something,” Callie coos at my back, then I spin around, and the blonde trickster blows a kiss to the dog. “Gimme a kiss, Baby.”
“Her name’s not Baby,” I spit out.
But my girl wags her tail, rushes to Callie, and lifts her snout to give a kiss. Oh, man. “Trudy, you’re killing me,” I mutter.
“Stand on your hind legs, Baby” Callie says, and the pooch I took to work every single day complies.
Perfectly.
It wasn’t enough for my ex to trick me and three other dudes? She had to hoodwink my dog too?