Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“Traitor,” I said under my breath, bugging out my eyes at him.
My dog should be ashamed, but he only gave me a smile and a soft woof, causing me to roll my eyes at him.
What made it worse was when I headed out to my truck, he didn’t even worry that I was leaving.
I should leave him behind, that would teach him.
CHAPTER 8
Chase
I didn’t understand the man. He just wouldn’t give up. No matter how many times I made it clear I wasn’t open to his friendship.
I didn’t need a “buddy” and he was trying to elbow his way into that spot.
However, now knowing he was also gay…
Was kind of dangerous.
I’d admit I was attracted to him and he would normally be my type, but I wasn’t willing to put myself out there. Whether platonically or otherwise.
I should shower to rinse off the lake water but I’d do that once I was sure Rett was gone. Otherwise, he’d probably rush into the bathroom, check the temp of the water and offer to scrub my back.
I closed my eyes, shook my head and after a deep inhale in an attempt to settle my growing annoyance, I opened my bedroom door, hoping he got the picture and left.
The first living, breathing thing I spotted was Timber sitting right outside my door. As soon as Rett’s dog saw me, his bushy tail swept back and forth against my wood floor and he grinned up at me with his long tongue hanging out the side.
He was just as goofy as his damn owner.
The German Shepherd got to his feet and nudged my hand when I stepped around him.
I’d never been a dog person—hell, I’d never been an animal person at all—but Thomas and I had owned a cat. On his insistence and against my will. I didn’t want one, but having the finicky feline seemed to help Thomas deal with his depression somewhat.
The cat loved him, but hated me. Every time I tried to pet her in an attempt to live in harmony, she hissed her disdain at me, so I left her alone. Then Thomas died and it was only me and the cat who hated me. She even took offense when I tried to feed her. I began to worry she would kill me in my sleep.
Cats could be evil like that. She probably blamed me for Thomas’s death.
It got to the point Sammie the Siamese sat by the front door, crying at all hours of the day and night waiting for Thomas to come home.
She wasn’t the only one heartbroken. Or lonely. I missed Thomas just as much, if not more.
Watching the poor cat suffer only made it worse for me. Even though my parents were both in their late sixties, they opted to take Sammie and the cat was now living a happily ever after ending.
Me, not so much.
I’m sure my parents would’ve loved it if I had moved along with the cat into their home in Panama, too. But no…
I was forty-five and the hell if I was living with my parents or even close by. It’s not that I didn’t love them, I did and was very grateful they were my parents, but I didn’t need them up my ass constantly about “moving on” or trying to set me up on dates with their friends’ gay sons or grandsons. Or, hell, even with their gay friends.
Just no.
At first they let me grieve in my own way, but after a while they got worried and began to tell me to seek help. Kept flying up to Long Island to convince me in person it wasn’t healthy for me to not move forward with my life. Advised me that I would do better to move out of the house that held too many memories.
So, I did. I finally moved.
To Eagle’s Landing.
To this very cabin on a mountain in the middle of two hundred acres.
To be alone.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t alone right now. I had both a four-legged visitor and a two-legged pest in my cabin. I needed to get rid of them both and get back to writing. I hadn’t hit my word count yet for the day and I needed to.
If I didn’t stick to the structured writing plan I had set up, I’d get even farther behind in my current novel.
The problem was, even though I set my daily word count goals to a very conservative number, I wasn’t even making that. I found myself sitting in front of my laptop, losing track of time, sometimes even staring sightlessly over the lake. Finally, out of frustration I’d get up, go for a hike, chop wood or take a swim.
Or… pick up where I left off reading the current Everett J. Williams’ novel I was engrossed in.
I shouldn’t be so harsh on him, but I was worried if I gave him even an inch, he’d take a whole damn mile. For me that mile would be like walking barefoot over my nephew’s Legos in the dark. Every step torturous, even as numb as I normally was.