Page 2 of Northern Escape


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She sniffed his hand, then gave his pointer finger a small lick and inched forward. He didn’t move, letting her come to him. Didn’t want to scare her.

Finally, she bumped her head under his palm and her trembling eased. He very gently scooped her up and tucked her against his chest. He stood as Mr. Cavendish issued the ultimatum: “It’s me or the dog, Marina. Your choice.”

She looked at Ellis, then back at her husband. She never even spared Peanut a second glance. She was absolutely unconcerned her dog could be injured, but judging by the selfish gleam in her eyes, she was going to try to manipulate her husband into keeping the puppy. She’d probably get her way, too. Her husband was a pushover. And then Peanut would be stuck in this place with these people who couldn’t care less about her wellbeing. As soon as she grew up, and was no longer a cute, fascinating novelty, she’d be forgotten while Marina moved on to whatever snagged her interest next.

Ellis ground his teeth and issued an ultimatum of his own: “Either I leave with her, or I’m reporting you for animal abuse.”

“Fine,” Mr. Cavendish said. “Take that ugly fucking thing and get the hell out of my house!”

Ellis walked out and Marina didn’t run after him, demanding he return her dog. She didn’t try to stop him. All he heard as he descended the wide sweep of stairs to the first-floor foyer was more arguing.

That woman didn’t deserve a dog. And he’d wanted to sleep with her? Sure, she was gorgeous on the outside, but her beauty was only skin deep. Inside, she was a selfish, petty, ugly excuse for a human. He seemed to be a magnet for that kind of woman. What did that say about him?

In his arms, Peanut started shivering again.

He grabbed his jacket from where it had fallen near the door. Thank Christ that was the only item of clothing he’d shed. It made his escape that much easier.

Close call. Too close. Maybe he should stop thinking with his dick and start paying attention when his brain threw out warning flares. He’d had a bad feeling about the Cavendishes since Peanut’s first lesson, but he conveniently forgot about all of those red flags when Marina Cavendish opened the door half-naked.

Stupid.

Outside, he drew a deep breath of the crisp L.A. winter air. It didn’t freeze the lungs like in Alaska. The air didn’t hurt his face. He never understood why anyone would willingly live where the air hurt their face.

Peanut wiggled against him and he held her up so that they were nose-to-nose. “What am I gonna do with you now?”

She licked his nose.

Nope. She wasn’t going to win him over by being cute. He knew what a little demon she actually was. He’d take her to a no-kill shelter. She was cute with the flip of gray and white hair on top of her head, the pom on the end of her tail, and her freckled, naked body. She was young and exotic. Someone would snap her up quickly.

His phone rang. He slid it from his jeans pocket and checked the screen. Scowled at the 907-area code.

Alaska.

Another nope.

He didn’t recognize the number beyond the area code, but it didn’t matter. There was nobody in that state he wanted to talk to.

His thumb hovered over the end button. He planned to hit it and dismiss the call. Any. Second. Now. Just drop the thumb to the little red icon and game over— no more of the past blowing up his phone.

He didn’t need a trip down memory lane. His life was just the way he wanted it now. No deadbeat dad. No demanding brothers. No responsibility.

He glanced back at the Cavendish mansion and told himself the dull, heavy feeling in his chest was only heartburn.

Yeah, heartburn.

Not regret or remorse.

His life was awesome.

He swore and raised the phone to his ear. “Ellis Hunter.”

Goddamn Alaska. What was it about that place, those people, that consistently drew him in against his will?

“Ellis, hello,” a woman’s voice said. He didn’t recognize it. “We’ve never met, but I’m a friend of your dad’s—”

Ice formed in his blood at that statement and brought goose bumps to his skin despite the mild weather. Fucking Alaska, reaching through the phone line across thousands of miles to dig its icy claws into him. How he hated the place.

He resisted the urge to hang up on the woman. “If Dad needs money, I don’t have any. And I can’t bail him out of jail. Call Nate. Or better, Damian, since he’s a hotshot celebrity vet now.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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