Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
I hoist the carrier out of the passenger seat, and Mr. Snugglebutt immediately starts another round of wailing. I barely make it to the front porch before the howling escalates to ear-splitting.
“Okay, okay, we’re here, drama queen,” I whisper through clenched teeth as I fumble for the overnight bag and the carrier at the same time.
I’m halfway up the walk when Beckett throws the door open with that “I’ll handle anything” look on his face. Instantly, my heart does a triple backflip and splats right onto the welcome mat. Holy hell, he looks good—even after a long shift. His jaw is stubbled, his hair is a mess, and those green eyes are locked on me like I’m the last glass of water in the desert and he’s dying of thirst.
Holy hell. My knees actually go a little wobbly.
Beckett’s out the door and halfway down the steps before I make it to the porch.
He stops in front of me, crowding out all the daylight with his ridiculous body, and reaches for the carrier first. Mr. Snugglebutt lets out a howl so dramatic it sounds like I’m trafficking him across state lines. Beckett grins, flashing those lethal canines. “Jesus. That’s a set of lungs.”
“Sorry,” I manage, cheeks flaming. “He’s not a fan of the carrier.”
Beckett takes the carrier from my hands, his fingers brushing mine for a moment too long to be accidental. "Let's get him out of jail before he blows out his vocal cords," he says with a wink, leading me through the doorway into his home.
Beans rockets into the foyer like a bowling ball in a black bristle suit, snorting with glee while Pork hangs back a second, blinking at the carrier like he’s unsure of these new circumstances.
I unlatch the door, and Mr. Snugglebutt bursts out like he’s escaping Alcatraz, tail high and fur puffed to cartoon levels. He stalks straight toward Pork, who steps forward with a cautious sniff and what looks like genuine hope.
Mr. Snugglebutt’s response? HISSSSS and a lightning-fast swipe to the wiener dog’s nose.
“Jesus!” I blurt, lunging forward, but Pork freezes, stunned, completely baffled at this turn of events. I swear the wiener dog actually shrugs before picking up his paw and smacking the cat right back across the face.
For a split second, no one moves. The look on Mr. Snugglebutt’s face is pure indignation. Like, “Excuse me, peasant, did you just touch me?”
The tension lasts all of two-point-five seconds, because then Pork flips the script and licks Mr. Snugglebutt straight up the face. No warning, no apology—just a big, wet, “let’s be friends” right between the cat’s eyes.
Mr. Snugglebutt sits, dead still, processing the glory and horror of having his skull licked by a dog. Beans circles the entire scene, snorting like he’s refereeing a UFC fight, and I swear to God, Pork and Mr. Snugglebutt both snap their heads to watch the pig as he snorts and chuffs. I brace myself for round two, but instead of a full-scale brawl, the three animals just… stand there. Frozen. Like someone hit pause on the world.
Beans lets out another snort, ears twitching as he sizes up the new arrival. Mr. Snugglebutt’s tail is puffed to full bottle brush, but he doesn’t budge. He’s glaring at Pork and Beans like he’s daring them to make a move. Pork cocks his head, clearly not sure if he’s supposed to play, run away, or just lie down and let the cat win.
I’m holding my breath, waiting for the next explosion, but Beckett just grins at me over the top of the chaos, completely unfazed. Honestly, he looks like he’s loving every second of it.
Then, like fate’s flipping a switch, Mr. Snugglebutt climbs up on the giant pet bed, turns in a slow, deliberate circle, and flops right down. The pig and wiener dog follow him, and each curls up next to the cat.
My cat lets out a sigh, like “I’ve accepted my fate,” and two seconds later, Pork snuggles up to the pig’s belly, chin propped across Mr. Snugglebutt’s orange fluff.
I’m so stunned I almost drop the wine glass Beckett hands me.
“They’re… snuggling?” My voice cracks, disbelief on full blast.
Beckett glances at the heap of pets and smirks. “Told you they’d get along.”
“They tried to murder each other thirty seconds ago!”
He shrugs. “That was thirty seconds ago.”
I want to argue, but I can feel all the air leaving my lungs as I watch the little animal pile-up in the living room. Beans is already snoring softly, Pork makes happy little grunting noises, and Mr. Snugglebutt, ever the diva, is kneading the pig’s spine like his own personal massage therapist.
The tension I’ve been dragging all day finally slides off my shoulders. I didn’t expect this. I was prepared for mayhem, maybe carefully separating the animals, but this is just—perfect. We order pizza again, and I’m not complaining. I could eat Mario’s every day for the rest of my natural life, but Beckett actually looks embarrassed when he pulls the box open on the kitchen counter.