Total pages in book: 21
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 19885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 99(@200wpm)___ 80(@250wpm)___ 66(@300wpm)
"I bet she's ready to pop," I mutter, watching him kneel down to fasten Pepper's fancy pink velvet harness. The dog wiggles impatiently, her compact body vibrating with excitement, stubby tail wagging so hard her entire back end sways.
"The dog walker usually comes around eleven to walk her, so it hasn't been too long." He clips on the matching leash while Pepper does a frantic tap dance across the polished hardwood. "We won't be too long. Pepper doesn't like wandering around after dark."
I don’t know what’s funnier: the way he caters to the dog, or the way she immediately turns from demon to diva in his presence. I can’t help but smile. “She’s got you wrapped around her little paw.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Jack deadpans, grabbing his jacket. “I like to pretend I’m the alpha.” Jack’s eyes glint as he says it, and I almost choke on my sparkling water. As if on cue, Pepper strikes a pose and gives me the world’s most judgmental hair-flip with her bat ears. I swear she’s smirking at me.
“You're not fooling anyone," I point out, my cheeks warming as I can't help but grin. "She runs this place and you know it."
"Touché," he says, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the polished hardwood floor beneath my feet. One corner of his mouth quirks up as he winks at me, and my stomach does a little flip. Pepper prances in place, her nails clicking impatiently against the floor as Jack's broad hand wraps around the doorknob. "We'll be back in five," he adds, the door closing behind them with a soft click that somehow feels more final than it should.
I reach in my pocket for my phone and remember it’s still on the bedside table. I rush back to the bedroom and grab it. I send my professor a quick message, explaining why I missed class today and asking for an extension to turn in my assignment. I’m pretty sure it’s about as believable as the old “my dog ate my homework” excuse, but at least I tried.
Jack and Pepper are actually gone for sixteen minutes. I know this because I've been watching the hands on the antique clock slowly tick. When the door finally swings open, Jack fills the doorframe holding a large take-out bag. Pepper prances in beside him, pink leash taut as she strains forward. "Sorry it took so long," he says, voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate through my chest as he sets the bag on the marble countertop with a soft rustle. "I got a message that the food was almost here, so I waited downstairs for it." I watch, transfixed, as he kneels down in one fluid motion, his dress shirt pulling tight across his back while his nimble fingers unhook the leash from Pepper's rhinestone-studded collar.
Once free, the dog rushes over and hops up on the sofa. When she puts her chin on my knee, I ruffle her ears, and she grunts happily before turning and giving Jack a look so smug I swear she’s smiling.
Jack shakes his head and grins. “Unbelievable.” My cheeks flush so hot, I almost combust.
“She’s definitely plotting world domination.”
Jack’s eyes flick to mine, and for a second, I forget how to swallow. He moves closer, crowding me against the sofa with that ridiculous six-foot-six cop energy, like he’s about to interrogate me and maybe also tear my clothes off. Hopefully, he chooses the latter. Not gonna lie, my brain short-circuits just a little at the thought of it.
Pepper snuggles her potato body right into my lap. Her crooked frog eyes track Jack as if daring him to get between us.
Jack unpacks the takeout bag. “Do you want to eat in the living room or at the breakfast bar?” he asks.
“Definitely the breakfast bar,” I tell him, already picturing the mess soy sauce makes in the wrong hands.
“You got it.” He lays out a literal sushi feast across the marble. The spread is so beautiful, I want to take a picture for the group chat, but I remember my study group would murder me if they saw how much I was about to eat. Jack organizes everything with military precision: miso soup, dumplings, rolls, tiny soy sauce dishes lined up perfectly. My mouth waters so hard I actually have to swallow.
He gestures for me to sit at the center barstool, then takes the one right next to me. Not across. Right next to it. Like his giant self needs to crowd me at the counter when there are four other seats. My pulse flares. I might actually have a heart attack before this dinner is over.
Pepper waddles over and sits directly under my stool, making weird piglet snorts that I’m pretty sure are her version of begging for food.