Page 22 of Pinch of Love

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Page 22 of Pinch of Love

I scowled at my cousin. “Rusty was special. He was irreplaceable. He was like my child.”

The balmy breeze washed over us as I stared at the house in front of me. “Who has the dog now?”

Marcus rocked on his heels and glanced in my direction and mumbled.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“I do,” he repeated.

“You want this deal to happen, right?” I asked. “Then you keep the dog, and I’ll keep the house.”

“It’s not like that, Cash. My lifestyle isn’t fit for a dog. I’ma bachelor. I’m not around enough to keep her happy.”

My brows rose sharply. “I’m a bachelor too.”

“Yeah, but you don’t do anything besides work, eat, and stare at the lake behind your house.” My cousin stepped away from me as if I were going to bite him.

I laughed, nodding my head. “I can’t argue with that much. What kind of dog are we talking about? Newfoundland? Australian sheepdog? German shorthair? Labrador?”

He nodded and took a few steps toward me again. “Close. She’s a teacup Pomeranian.”

I froze as dread threaded through every thought and word combination I had.

After a few seconds of silence, my cousin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “She’s so small. You might not even remember you have a dog half the time.”

I clicked my tongue and shook my head. “Deal is dead.”

“Then apparently... so is little Chewie.” My cousin’s expression fell.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You wouldn’t let that happen.”

“It’s not up to me. I don’t own their dog. I’m just babysitting.”

I grunted and kicked the dirt with my hiking boots. “You said it was a girl?”

A smug smile dripped from his lips. “Yup.”

“And her name is Chewie?”

“Chewbacca is on her papers.”

“After the hairy guy fromStar Wars?”

“Technically, Chewbacca is a Wookie, but yeah.”

“Unbelievable.” I shook my head. “Why’s she named that? Marcy doesn’t seem like the type who was aStar Warsfan.”

“Huge, actually, and Chewie’s fur is apricot. It kind of fits. She’s adorable and almost potty trained.”

My brows arched in surprise. “Way to sell me. If she’s three years old, why isn’t she completely potty trained?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t raise her. I don’t know.”

I let out a groan, knowing what was about to happen to my life. I’d gotten into a routine with Rusty, and without Rusty, I’d been fumbling my way from day to day, making the best of things while trying not to think the worst about things.

It wasn’t going well.

I rested my hands on my cousin’s shoulders and gave them a firm squeeze while looking at the house. But getting a wild orange fluffball wasn’t exactly going to be smooth sailing, either.




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