My Next Book Boyfriend (Book Boyfriend #1)

by Vicki Green

  I give up. I shut off the alarm, get out of bed, and go take my shower. Might as well, not gonna go back to sleep with that lying beside me. After removing my clothes and stepping under the spray, it dawns on me. How in the hell did he get up on my bed? Little sneak. Several comatose minutes under the hot water, I wash, shampoo, shave and rinse, then grab a towel, wrap it around me and walk to the sink. I brush and brush and scrunch then walk into the bedroom, straight into the closet, and get dressed for the day.

  “But I don’t wanna dog sit,” Molly whines. Loudly and annoyingly. “Especially that dog and its freaking five-thirty in the morning. You’re lucky I even answered my phone and came over here. I thought you were dying or something.”

  We’ve been sitting in the kitchen, well she’s sitting and I’m standing in front of her at the breakfast bar, and have been having this discussion for the last fifteen minutes. “Come on! I wanna get over to the store and pick up some things before we open the shop.” Thank God, there’s a twenty-four hour store the next street over from there. “Please? I’ll give you a day off,” I plead and bat my eyes. I’m hoping the pups little eyes are helping my case as it sits on the floor in the middle of the kitchen staring up at her.

  She sighs and roll her eyes but then I get nervous as her facial expression changes to delight. That means trouble. “Okay. I’ll do it but only if you go out with me this weekend.” No, she did not go there. Her mouth turns into an evil smile. She did. “Come on. You never go out with me. It’s a small price to pay.” She uses my trick and bats her eyes at me. Bitch!

  I bend down and pick up the puppy, standing there unconsciously petting it, probably a little too roughly, and tapping my foot. I really don’t have a choice and she knows it. Wench. “Okay. You win.” I roll my eyes as she starts clapping and swinging her legs. My brows lower and I give her a little attitude. “This time.” I hand her the pup and grab my purse, heading toward the door. “I so hate you sometimes.”

  “But I love you!”

  I hear her laughter as I close the door. Damn smart wench.

  A half an later I get home with a butt load of stuff. I open the door and stop still when I see her sitting on the living room rug, the pup in between her outstretched legs, and – playing? Really? Her head lifts and she smiles. “I think he likes me.”

  Bragger.

  I bring the stuff in, kicking the door closed behind me, and take everything to the kitchen. I set the dog bowls down, grab the dog food and fill one then take the other bowl over to the sink and fill it with water. When I turn around the pup is standing at the bowl, sniffing the food. I wait, not wanting to spook it when I look up at Molly, who’s standing in the doorway. “What do you mean, he?”

  She walks in and leans her arms on the breakfast bar, looking down at the pup. “I was playing with him and he rolled over.” She looks up at me. “I think I saw his weeny peeny.”

  Humph. He’s a – him. Wow. I cross my arms over my chest, well, underneath my more than ample breasts. “Huh. Well, okay then.”

  “He needs a name.” I look back at her and huff.

  “I’m not sure I’m keeping him, Molly. I’m looking through online ads and placing one myself today. Surely someone is missing him.” I look down at the little ball of fluff and squint my eyes. He’s scrawny and his hair is sticking out all over the place. But he’s cute in a weird way. I look at all his hair and think. “Willy.” Molly’s eyes snap to mine, her face contorts in disgust.

  “No! You can’t do that to the little guy.” She looks down at him and smirks. “Willy with the weeny peeny.” I smile. “Why Willy?”

  I walk over to the coffee pot and fill two cups then take her one. “He was the guy in Coming Home.” I shrug. “He had a scruffy long beard and his hair was described as sticking out everywhere. And it was black with brown highlights through it. It’s perfect.”

  “Was that a movie?” she asks tilting her head. Sometimes she so naïve.

  “Nah. A book, silly.” She rolls her eyes and lets out a big sigh. “Hurry up and drink your wake up fix while I go make a barrier for Willy in the bathroom. We’re gonna be late.” She picks up her cup and I hear loud crunching sounds coming from Willy so I take off for the bathroom. There’s no way I’m leaving here with him loose in my place. No telling what he’ll get into and he’s so tiny, he might get stuck somewhere or hurt.

  On my way past my bags, I grab the child gate that I’d bought and walk down the hall. Flicking on the light, I look around, and then latch the gate in the doorway. I stand back then bend over and jiggle it. Tight. Good. After gathering up the bowls and setting them on the bathroom floor, I go back and pick up Willy and place him beside them. The bowl is still fairly full and I can always come home at some point of the day and check on him. I stand back and nod, proud of my little room for him and then gasp. Quickly, I walk back over to the sack and pull out a few toys, rip off the tags, and set them on the floor in there with him. There. Food. Water. And toys. It’s like his very own little puppy paradise. Except there are no girl pups or Mai Tai’s with little umbrellas. Oh, well. Good enough. He looks up at me with those little eyes, and I turn around, trying not to think of him giving me the abandoned again look. Sigh.

  Molly and I head out and while she starts getting things ready at the shop, I go into the back room and fire up the computer. I click on my favorite local newspaper and scour the lost and found, missing pets, and other assorted things. Not finding anything about a missing scrawny pup, I create my own ad. I wonder if I should create one for Molly: Best Friend For Sale. Cheap! That would serve her right. I wonder how much I could get for her. I laugh to myself. Sometimes I really crack myself up.

  Found

  Scruffy male puppy

  Looks to be a Yorkie mix

  Maybe a few months old

  Contact: @The Coffee Shop on West 5th street. Inquire within

  There. I guess I really should find a vet and take Willy in. Probably needs shots and stuff and it would be nice if they could figure out how old he really is instead of me guessing. Oh, what if he has fleas or some other kind of parasite? Eww. I look up the vet that’s on the next block over. It’s always been there but never having a pet before I’ve never had a reason to go in. I quickly call them and they can see him later today. Awesome! Having that taken care of, I hurry and preheat the two large ovens and start making some donuts, rolling out the dough on parchment paper and then use my round cutter. As they bake, I start making more dough for a second batch then mix up some different toppings and fill the inside of a few of them, topping them with the other half. By the time the first batch is done and placed on the large dishes, I put the second batch in the ovens and take the dishes out to the display cabinets. Molly walks over and unlocks the front door, flipping the sign to “Open” and as she walks back, a crowd of people enter. Guess it’s time to start our day.

  “Hottie, twelve o’clock,” she whispers in my ear, knocking against my hip with hers. I hip bump her back and look up slowly from making a caramel latte. Walking toward the counter is a rather tall man. Well, tall to me. Slim waist, large build and defined abs very noticeable against a tight fitted t-shirt. My eyes scroll up to a square shaven chin, unblemished skin, until they reach dreamy brown eyes with lashes, so long a woman would kill to have them. His head is covered with an Army cap, but I can tell he has black hair and is kept fairly short underneath. A throat clears, and I blink rapidly.

  “Good morning. Mind if I get a large coffee. Black. Straight up?” Then he smiles. White straight teeth with a hint of a dimple on the left side of his mouth. I feel the heat of a blush rushing over my skin. “Miss? You okay?” I blink again and look down when I feel the scorching heat of the coffee running over my hand holding the cup.

  “SHIT!” I set the cup down on the drain mat and a rag is forced into my hand.

  “Geez, Ry. You ok
ay?” Molly’s giggles tell me she knows that I’m just fine.

  I look back up at Dreamboat and try to smile. “I’m so sorry. Large coffee, black, straight up. Uh, Molly? Would you please get that for him?” I turn, my heart pounding against my chest and moving up into my throat. I press my shoulder up against Molly’s, grabbing her arm, and turn my head enough to whisper, “Get that other customer’s caramel latte too. I have to…. I need to….” My eyes snap to Dreamboat then quickly to the back room. “I have to go into…. Just do it.” I take off in a power walk and once I get into the back room, I turn and run straight into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and locking it. I shut the toilet seat, sit down, put my hand over my fast beating heart, and sigh.

  Well, that went well.

  My heart rate finally starts slowing down as I stare at the wall in front of me. Damn. I’m so freaking shy, I hate it. What a bumbling idiot I am. Normally, she takes care of most of the guys with me in the back room doing bookkeeping or baking, but he’s abnormally gorgeous than most of the guys that come in here. He looks just like what I envisioned my newest book boyfriend would look like from the new series I just started. Damien Marsh in Dare to Dream. But they’re not supposed to come to life right in front of me. This is why I love my reading world. I can be confident, strong, and full of poise when I meet the fictional knockouts. I move with grace and say all the right things. Of course, I’m also the fictional woman in the story, beautiful, killer body, and killer clothes. My normal attire is jeans, whatever clean shirt I can find, my tennis shoes or flip flops, and my reading glasses that are secured on top of my head. A romance book lays on the counter or in the back room waiting for me. Basically, I look like a nerd dweeb.

  A knock taps on the door and I jump. “Dammit, Rylie. Get your shit together, would ya?” I want to strangle her right now, I think to myself. Or maybe out loud. I’m not really sure. Another tap. “Ry. Hottie is planted in the working area. It’s safe to come out now.” Molly’s voice bolsters through the wood in a sing-song tone. Sometimes I hate her for not being shy.

  I jump up and quickly open the door. “Could you be any louder? I don’t think he quite heard you all the way from the working area.” My face is scrunched, and my heart is still beating fast.

  “Ha! I could but then you’d smack me. My arm’s still bruised from the death grip you had on it, on the way in here.” She smirks. “Besides. He’s eyeballs deep into something on his laptop, typing away like there’s no tomorrow. Don’t think he’d hear or see anything. Totally engrossed.” Hmmm, that’s interesting. I wonder what he’s typing? Probably just some kind of work. “Earth to Rylie!” I blink several times and focus in on her dancing eyes.

  “Yeah. Well. Good. I think I’ll get started on making sandwiches. Uh. You can go take care of out front.” She glares at me and then turns, huffing off and out of the room. Better for me to stay hidden for a while. My heart can’t take much more this morning. I turn around and wash my hands, looking up into the mirror. My face is beet red, my glasses still on top of my head. I wipe my hands with the towel, remove my glasses and walk out into the room, setting them down on the desk. I get the things from the pantry and fridge needed for the sandwiches and then start laying out the bread and croissants into neat rows on the working table.

  Curiosity soon begins to choke me so I walk to the doorway and peer out and around. I look across the room, over mounds of heads, and see Dreamboat sitting by the window, laptop on the table, coffee cup sitting next to it, and the look of concentration set on his gorgeous face. Thick muscles flex in his arms as his fingers move a mile a minute on the keyboard. Lucky keyboard. His fingers long and slender, his hands big and strong. Visions of those hands gripping my hips as he.... I shake my head. What the hell, Rylie? Oh, I’ve envisioned such things while reading but in real life – never. I walk back to the large table and start slamming meats onto the unsuspecting breads, my heart reaching up and grabbing me around my throat, pulsating in my neck rapidly.

  The lunch crowd requires us both to be out in the shop but I’m so busy I don’t even notice Dreamboat. In fact, I forgot he was even there until I hear his voice in front of me. “Think I could get one of those luscious sandwiches before they’re gone?” I look up from my slumped over position and nod. “Great. May I have one of those ham and cheese sandwiches and a bottled water, please?” I rise, grabbing a paper plate, a paper tissue, and remove a sandwich from the glass case then turn around and take a bottled water out of the glass fridge and set them on the counter. I look up into his eyes and freeze. All the chatter and clatter of my busy shop fades around me. His mouth turns into a wide smile, showing that damn freaking dimple. I could stick my tongue into the indention and.... “How much do I owe you?” My eyes start blinking and watering like I have something in them trying to be set free and I cover my mouth with my hand and cough.

  “Sorry. That’ll be five fifty.” I’m kinda proud of myself that I spoke without stuttering. I watch him dig into his front pocket. Lucky pocket. He pulls out some money and counts out the exact amount and holds it out in front of me. I tear my eyes from his and reach up with a shaky hand and grasp it but he doesn’t let go, our fingers touching. My eyes snap back to his when the strangest feeling moves through my fingers, up my arm, and right down to the place only B.O.B. has been. His eyes widen and darken. I swallow hard and tug the money hard. He gets the hint and lets go, and I almost fall backwards. If not for the death grip on the counter with my other hand I would have.

  “Thank you.” His voice has changed from its normal tone to deeper, rougher. Oh my!

  I nod slowly then all the noises of the filled room begin to reappear. I turn and bump smack into Molly, who lets out a loud laugh, and without looking at the smirking face I know is there, I run into the back room, straight into the bathroom and slam the door closed. I sit back on my toilet throne, bend over and rest my arms on my legs, my shaking hands covering my overheated face. My head is swarming. Maybe I should enlarge the bathroom and put my desk in here and my nice comfy chair. I have a feeling I’ll be spending a large amount of quality time in here.

  Chapter 3

  The day moves into evening. Instead of where I normally am, at this time of day, in the sitting area relaxing with my book, I’ve spent my time in the back room, working on my laptop doing the shop’s figures and hiding from Dreamboat who seemed to stay almost until closing time. Doesn’t he have anywhere else to go? I called the vet and changed my appointment to tomorrow and internally slap myself for being a wuss. I could have gone out through the side door that we rarely use. Molly and I clean up everything and then she reminds me about Friday night as we walk out the door. “You promised,” she whines, batting her eyes. I just roll my eyes and reluctantly tell her I know and head home.

  Unlocking my front door, I feel terrible that I left Willy alone all day and night and know I’ll have a hell of a mess to clean up in the bathroom. I should have left and come home at least twice. I’m not sure I would make a good pet owner. What a freaking loser! I walk in, closing the door with my foot, then flip on the light switch on the wall next to it. My mouth drops open and my eyes widen as I scan the living room, my breath catching in my throat. Stuffing from my throw pillows is scattered throughout the room, creating a vision of chaos and tufts of white with strips of what used to be my brown floral pillows cover the floor and lead into the kitchen doorway. Pictures are knocked over, shatters of broken glass on the rug and the hardwood. The TV remote is full of chewed tiny holes and my magazines that were laying on the coffee table are shredded. I pinch my nose closed when the awful aroma of puppy poop invades it. Tiptoeing into the room, in fear of walking on glass, stuffing, and any poop that’s underneath, I’m hoping I can make it to the bathroom unscathed. No such luck. “Ewww,” I whisper. I keep creeping until I get to the hallway, flipping the light switch on and turn my head to the bathroom. My face changes to anger when I se
e a hole in the mesh of the gate and the bathroom rug scattered in pieces all over the floor. Little piles of poop and pee are all over the floor intermingled with the big clumps of fur from the bathroom rug. I do feel bad about the accidents. After all, they were really my fault for not coming home to let him out but the destroyed bathroom and living room? Not so much. Nope, nothing but anger there.

  I back away from the more than stinky room and walk around my condo looking for him. “Where are you, you little bugger,” I speak into the smelly air with my fingers pinching my nose, making me sound like one of the Chipmunks. Secretly, I’m hoping that I sound like Alvin. He’s my favorite Chipmunk. After walking in the kitchen and looking around the living room, I head down the hallway again, avoiding looking at the bathroom, and walk into my bedroom. There laying on the extra pillow on my bed curled up in a tiny ball is Willy. Snoring. “How in the hell are you getting up on my bed?” I have one of those high beds with the thick mattresses making it even higher. My cedar hope chest is on the floor at the foot of my bed but he’s so small it would still take a high jump to be able to get on there. Giving up on my not-so-great-guessing-techniques, I walk over to the side of my bed and pick him up. His little eyes open and he growls. Really? “Ya know, it would be nice if you’d sleep in the bed I made for you. I did not invite you to share my bed. God knows, no one else shares my bed, especially not a puppy,” I keep talking to him as I walk straight to the back door and set him down on the deck. I go back inside and see him just standing there, head turned, and staring at me. “Go potty out there.” I swear he just growled at me again and if looks could kill – I’d be dead. I turn sharply to go get the cleaning supplies from my hall closet when my foot slides out from under me and I fall on my butt. “Ow!” I lift my right leg and turn my foot to the side. Shit! Literally. It’s not only on the bottom of my shoe but my leg and I’m sure I’m now sitting in it. Ugh! How can something so small make such a big mess?