Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26941 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Cassidy and Sasha glance at each other, but my sister speaks first. “What do you want?”
“Tara. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes except give up my career.” Bella nuzzles her nose into my side, and I slide my hand over her fur.
“You should get a dog,” Sasha says. And before I can reply, she holds up a hand. “Hear me out. You adore Bella. I mean, you’re certainly not here all the time to pet Xander.” She snickers at her joke. “But seriously, what shows permanence and commitment as much as getting a dog?”
I raise my eyebrows. I can’t deny how much I’d love my own pet and have even thought about it. I also know all the reasons it isn’t a good idea. “I travel, and I’m not around when I tour.”
“I’m around, and I’m happy to take care of your dog,” my sister says.
“And I have to take care of Bella anyway. If I have to be on a movie set, I have a kennel I trust for short visits,” Sasha adds.
I shake my head. “You two are crazy.”
“But smart. You want to show Tara you can offer stability, a dog is a start,” Cassidy says.
“And Tara is a vet. What other way to her heart than a dog?” Sasha shrugs. “Seems like common sense to me.”
“Are you two always this good at tag teaming?”
“They’re masters.” Xander strides into the kitchen. His glasses are on, indicating he’s been writing, and he heads to the fridge, pulling out a can of soda. “Anyone want some?”
“No, thanks,” I say.
The women shake their heads.
“So what’s going on in here?” He walks over to the table, pulls out a chair beside Sasha, and sits, straddling it. “What are you two up to?”
“Convincing Axel to get a dog,” Sasha says.
“So he’ll stop coming by all the time?” Xander grins as he speaks.
“No, so he can impress Tara,” Cassidy says, making me feel like the asshole under the microscope.
And when Xander bursts out laughing, I glare at them all. But at least I have a plan forming, not just for my next date with Tara but beyond.
* * *
Tara
I have a jam-packed day of appointments that ends with an emergency for a patient that got into chocolate, which is toxic to dogs. The poor pup needed to be given medicine that would cause him to vomit, hooked up to an IV, pumped full of fluids, and treated with activated charcoal to prevent the chocolate from entering his bloodstream. Lucky the dog needs to stay overnight, and Harry and I have a technician who will check in on the inpatients during the night.
Though I didn’t finish up late, I’m exhausted and don’t remember I have a date with Axel until almost six. Not that I forgot about him completely. He’s been on my mind since he rescued me this past Saturday night. An evening I don’t want to repeat. I’m too old to wake up hungover. But not too old to find myself underneath Axel.
As I take my cosmetic case into the bathroom and touch up my makeup, my thoughts drift to Axel and the way he felt deep inside me. I recall him pushing into me, his erection pulsing, my body responding, and desire ripples through me, and my panties grew damp. I shift my legs but can’t alleviate the need those memories inspire.
And when I allow them to wash over me, the emotions flow as well. Axel pulled up the feelings I locked down after he left for Los Angeles and my father died. From the way he holds me and looks into my eyes, everything he does tells me I’m special to him. How can I not feel again?
I place the mascara wand down on the counter and look in the mirror, seeing the girl who fell in love with Axel and not the woman who swore never to let anyone in who could hurt her again. And that is dangerous to my heart.
Especially since I saw the evidence of his transitory nature. Who lives for so long without a sofa? A television? Pictures on the walls? Though I didn’t mention it, I took a look around his room, and there was just one photo on his dresser. Him with his grandmother and sister. No other personal items with sentimental value to be found.
Back when we were in high school, his grandmother kept his music awards and any accolades hanging in his room. After she died, he hadn’t taken them down. His way of keeping her memory alive. But it seems like, over the years, personal items no longer meant anything to him. Furniture doesn’t mean anything to him, almost as if he has one foot out the door already.
It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about the house he rents or the life he lives jibes with the man who is trying to convince me to give us another chance.