Life Next Door (Love Not Included Series Book 2) by J. D. Hollyfield Page A
Authors: J. D. Hollyfield
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in the last year we were together, but that didn’t mean I ran out on him with the first man who gave me attention. He should have given us both an out instead of finding his first.
I’m so pissed all over again and I’m not even sure how I got here. Have I mentioned that I hate this house? I’m over this. I turn to walk back to my house when I hear the bark coming from the open front door. I turn to see Jake sitting there staring at me. I’m pretty sure even the dog thinks I’m crazy.
“Hey, buddy. You need to go outside?” I ask like he’s going to respond to me.
Jake barks once and heads down the steps. Well, that was easy . He sniffs around half the lawn, then finds his spot and does his business. He walks up to me and I brush my fingers through his moppy fur.
“You miss your owner?”
Jake barks again. I look up at the house. Then I look down at Jake. I take a peek at my place, then back to Jake.
Making a quick decision, I hold my breath, run up the porch stairs and shut the door. I turn the key and lock it, place the spare back under the mat and run back down. I blast out the poof of air I was holding in. Phew. I survived.
“So, Jake, looks like you and I are going to bunk up for a while.”
I walk Jake back to my house and he obediently follows. He seems completely cool with his new living quarters. I don’t dare attempt to get his food from the kitchen, so I make due with feeding him a turkey sandwich and make a mental note to pick up dog food on my way home from work.
This can work.
Chapter 15
I wake up Tuesday morning and realize that the warm body that is snuggled up next to me is Jake’s. Apparently, the blankets I laid out for him in the living room didn’t meet his satisfaction. He is sprawled out on his back with all four legs sticking straight in the air. Yep, looks like he had no problem adjusting to his new living quarters whatsoever. Last night, after feeding Jake any random thing in my pantry, we bunked up on the couch and watched some late night TV. I hoped Trent was going to call, but he didn’t and that’s okay. It’s not like I care...or anything. I eventually said goodnight to Jake and headed to bed. So now it’s Tuesday, and the world must go on.
Normal routine. You get it. Workout, shower, breakfast.
I grab for my bag and head out. The second I open the door I realize that Trent has my car!
“SON OF A MOTHER lovin’ shit!” How the hell am I going to get to work? I go to dig for my phone to give Trent a serious tongue lashing, and not the good kind, when a car pulls up. I look closer and notice Brendan from the locksmith.
“Hey, Ms. Westcott. I’m here take you to work. Mr. Walker called in a favor, said you would need a ride to work. I’m heading into town to my dad’s shop for the remainder of the week so I can pick you up and take you home.” Okay, so that tongue-lashing, the good kind, is back on.
Tuesday is uneventful. Work flows by like sap dripping from a tree. I can’t seem to get to five o’clock even if I learned voodoo in the next thirty seconds and started poking needles into the clock. It’s rare, but on days when it gets slow, I let Katie go home. I am done baking for the day so I can handle the front. I keep telling myself that I pull out my phone every chance I get because I need to look at the time, but I know it’s because I’m a sucker and I hope that I do have a text or call from Trent. I mean, he said he would call. You would think he would want to know how his dog is.
Bad parent.
I didn’t think it was possible, but the workday finally ends. As rare as it is for the shop to be slow, it’s an even rarer thing to go home and not drink wine. It’s quite sad, but I am just not in the mood. I think about working it out on my vibrator, but then I have visions of what the real thing is like and it just doesn’t interest me. Plus, Jake seems to be attached at my hip and it would be super awkward
I’m so pissed all over again and I’m not even sure how I got here. Have I mentioned that I hate this house? I’m over this. I turn to walk back to my house when I hear the bark coming from the open front door. I turn to see Jake sitting there staring at me. I’m pretty sure even the dog thinks I’m crazy.
“Hey, buddy. You need to go outside?” I ask like he’s going to respond to me.
Jake barks once and heads down the steps. Well, that was easy . He sniffs around half the lawn, then finds his spot and does his business. He walks up to me and I brush my fingers through his moppy fur.
“You miss your owner?”
Jake barks again. I look up at the house. Then I look down at Jake. I take a peek at my place, then back to Jake.
Making a quick decision, I hold my breath, run up the porch stairs and shut the door. I turn the key and lock it, place the spare back under the mat and run back down. I blast out the poof of air I was holding in. Phew. I survived.
“So, Jake, looks like you and I are going to bunk up for a while.”
I walk Jake back to my house and he obediently follows. He seems completely cool with his new living quarters. I don’t dare attempt to get his food from the kitchen, so I make due with feeding him a turkey sandwich and make a mental note to pick up dog food on my way home from work.
This can work.
Chapter 15
I wake up Tuesday morning and realize that the warm body that is snuggled up next to me is Jake’s. Apparently, the blankets I laid out for him in the living room didn’t meet his satisfaction. He is sprawled out on his back with all four legs sticking straight in the air. Yep, looks like he had no problem adjusting to his new living quarters whatsoever. Last night, after feeding Jake any random thing in my pantry, we bunked up on the couch and watched some late night TV. I hoped Trent was going to call, but he didn’t and that’s okay. It’s not like I care...or anything. I eventually said goodnight to Jake and headed to bed. So now it’s Tuesday, and the world must go on.
Normal routine. You get it. Workout, shower, breakfast.
I grab for my bag and head out. The second I open the door I realize that Trent has my car!
“SON OF A MOTHER lovin’ shit!” How the hell am I going to get to work? I go to dig for my phone to give Trent a serious tongue lashing, and not the good kind, when a car pulls up. I look closer and notice Brendan from the locksmith.
“Hey, Ms. Westcott. I’m here take you to work. Mr. Walker called in a favor, said you would need a ride to work. I’m heading into town to my dad’s shop for the remainder of the week so I can pick you up and take you home.” Okay, so that tongue-lashing, the good kind, is back on.
Tuesday is uneventful. Work flows by like sap dripping from a tree. I can’t seem to get to five o’clock even if I learned voodoo in the next thirty seconds and started poking needles into the clock. It’s rare, but on days when it gets slow, I let Katie go home. I am done baking for the day so I can handle the front. I keep telling myself that I pull out my phone every chance I get because I need to look at the time, but I know it’s because I’m a sucker and I hope that I do have a text or call from Trent. I mean, he said he would call. You would think he would want to know how his dog is.
Bad parent.
I didn’t think it was possible, but the workday finally ends. As rare as it is for the shop to be slow, it’s an even rarer thing to go home and not drink wine. It’s quite sad, but I am just not in the mood. I think about working it out on my vibrator, but then I have visions of what the real thing is like and it just doesn’t interest me. Plus, Jake seems to be attached at my hip and it would be super awkward
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