AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Puppies?” I asked, staring wide eyed at the tan tiny thing. His tongue hung out and he looked like he was smiling.
“That’s right,” Melly Harwood said. “I’m not pregnant.Sheis.”
I stared, confused, then I realized she was pointing at the tiny dog.
The dog was pregnant.
The dog.
“Fred, the dog, the… what kind of dog is that anyway?”
“Teacup Pom.”
“Fred, the Teacup Pom, is pregnant,” I repeated, just to make sure I was understanding things. I felt like I got hit by a falling tree.
“Fred’s a girl. It’s short for Frederica,” she clarified, as if that changed anything.
“The dog,” I said again.
I closed my eyes, ran a hand down my face. Remembered the messages Ang had taken and handed to me back at the office.You thought a little fun wouldn’t have consequences. Fine, fun was had. Now we face the consequences.
“THE DOG?” I practically shouted.
“Yes. Your son’s dog got my dog pregnant and I need his help paying for it all.”
Earl the big, lazy ass dog? The one that had been sprawled on a dog bed by the front window of the office snoring and farting when I left thirty minutes ago? That dog?
The one that needed to face the consequences. Not me.
2
MELLY
Daniel Pearson,thisDaniel Pearson, was allllllll man. He may have stormed into the exam room like a wild beast, but I imagined he’d be a beast in other ways, too. Ways that made my nipples hard and almost impossible for me not to rub my thighs together.
Yes, my mind went there.
No wonder guys my age–like his son, the one I’d left messages for–didn’t do anything for me. Becausewow.
My reaction had been instant. Visceral. Chemical. Cellular. Biological.
It was so unlike me to feel this way–hot and bothered–because I never,everthought of anything but hesitation and sometimes a hint of fear around older men. Especially ones who looked at me like he did. As if he was averyhungry tiger and I was a piece of meat.
He was tall. I only came up to his chin.
He was wide. Those shoulders barely fit through the exam room door.
He was rugged. Tanned, muscled and windblown in worn jeans that fit molded to sturdy thighs and a blue and gray plaid shirt. Sturdy leather work boots were on his big feet.
He even had a beard that accentuated his square jaw. His dark hair was a little long, a little unruly which he seemed to be. He stormed into the exam room, growled first, glared second. Threads of gray were at his temples, a blatant reminder he was much older than me.
This man’s photo had to be next to the word lumberjack in the dictionary. Romance novels with that trope had him grace the cover.
Over the clinic disinfectant smell, I could swear he smelled like the outdoors, all wild and untamed.
His dark eyes pierced into me the second he pushed into the room, then wouldn’t look away. Beneath his glare–yes, he glared–I felt… bared even though I was covered from neck to ankle. As if my conservative work outfit was racy lingerie. I felt small. Feminine. Delicate.
I had a feeling if his hard-working hands, which were like baseball mitts, got on me, would be my undoing. I’d love the raspy feel of them on my soft skin. I’dneedthat touch.
