Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
“Really? That’s kind of cute actually. Princess is still better obviously, but I’ll think about it. I bet living there must’ve been cool. You probably saw all sorts of stuff.”
His laugh has a bitter edge to it. “You could say that.”
“What do you mean?” The question pops out, pushed by pure curiosity, but the look on his face makes me wish I kept my mouth shut. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
This isn’t a date. He doesn’t owe me his story any more than I owe him mine. I aim the water nozzle off to the side, letting the spray hit my fingers until it’s a good temperature. Junkyard’s tail is tucked between her shivering legs, but she seems resigned to her fate and willing to put up with the indignity of a bath as long as we’re here with her. I’m careful with the water, making sure to take it slow and gauge her reactions. She’s a little shy about movement near her head, but her instinct is to cower, not snap.
I’m crouched down, focused on talking softly to Junkyard and working in the pet shampoo when a finger brushes over the tip of my nose leaving behind a small pile of bubbles and making me jump. “Hey!”
Piston grins and blows soap suds in front of Junkyard. She immediately throws herself into the game, trying to catch them in her mouth. Like most young dogs, she has no sense of what her size or strength actually means. She might not be huge, but she’s solid muscle, and she joyfully sends me straight onto my butt. Junkyard thinks it’s part of the game, but Piston’s expression is caught between shocked and amused.
“You think it’s funny?” I ask, deadpan. Warm water is soaking into my jeans.
His dark eyes track the movement of my hand holding the hose. “Uh…”
I flick the stream of water, inviting Junkyard to play. Her mouth chases after it, snapping like it’s possible to bite and chew. Piston grins, at least until I nail him right in the chest. “Whoops!”
Piston hauls me to my feet and we wrestle for control of the nozzle while Junkyard gleefully plays around our legs. He could overpower me easily if he wanted, but he’s so careful, both of me and of the dog. He lets me have my fun, at least until I slip and actually spray him right in the face. A thick eyebrow goes up.
“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to do that?” I ask.
He moves, fast as lightning. My arm holding the hose is pinned behind my back, not painfully, but it’s not going anywhere either. We’re inches apart. He leans in and a drop of water rolls down his nose and splashes right onto my face before his mouth is there. I gasp and my hand goes slack, the hose hitting the floor and flopping around in the metal basin beneath us.
It might not be my first kiss, but it might be the first one that matters.
Before starting with the bath, I put my hair up in a messy ponytail bun, and now there are tendrils of hair sticking to my neck and cheeks. I’m a mess, and I probably smell like wet dog, but all thoughts of keeping things friendly and at a distance fly out of my head the instant his tongue slides against my lips. I open to him like a flower for the first rays of sun in the spring. Piston’s kiss is slow and deliberate, sneaking up on me until I find my back against the wall and my hand sliding into his hair. His mouth tears off mine and I groan as he licks water off the side of my neck.
Thank goodness for Junkyard, who quickly gets bored of the hose now that it’s not doing anything. She whines and puts her front paws on Piston’s legs, delicately tapping him with the injured one. We’re here to entertain her, after all, and kissing isn’t much fun from her point of view.
Face flushed and heart pounding, I pull away and finish rinsing her off. “Sorry about—” I hesitate.
“I’m not.” But he backs away, grabbing a couple towels from a stack on the counter nearby. One he tosses to me, the other he uses to attempt to dry himself off a little. “You should come by the clubhouse sometime. I think you’d have a good time.”
My hands stop rubbing the towel over Junkyard. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why? You got a man?”
“What? No!”
“A woman?”
I roll my eyes. “Also no.”
“Then why?”
“It’s… not my scene.” Truth but not. The lie tastes acidic on my tongue.
He gives me a smug look. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s bullshit. You stared down the three of us without flinching, gave as good as you got, and you kiss like someone who knows how to fucking ride.”