Page 17 of Rust


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“Might not be a bad idea,” Rust said at last. “Back in Winnipeg, Minka had a full-time sitter when I was on the road, and she never chewed stuff up.”

“See? Told you. She’s lonely.”

“How about you, Izzy? Would you be interested?” Dad asked.

“I’d make it worth your time,” Rust added.

Oh, I don’t doubt that at all.

“Getting paid to spend time with a dog? Are you kidding?” I asked. “I’mdefinitelyinterested.”

“Perfect! Match made in heaven.” Dad clapped and gleefully rubbed his hands. “Make sure you get his number, Izzy.”

Reaching over Dad, Rust passed me his phone. “Here, Isabelle. Put your number in.”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding in my chest as I typed my number into Rust’s phone. I sent myself a text, so I had his number, too.

“There you go,” I said, and gave him his phone back. “Just let me know when you want me to come.”

I felt like I’d committed a crime in broad daylight—and gotten away with it, too! But if I didn’t wipe the gleeful smile off my face soon, Dad might suspect something.

Luckily, the horn to end the first period sounded, and I used that to aid my getaway.

“I should probably go meet up with my friends,” I said.

After we said our byes, I escaped into the night with the best birthday gift ever—a certain hockey player’s phone number.

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