Cluelessly Yours by Max Monroe

Author:Max Monroe [Monroe, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Max Monroe LLC
Published: 2024-01-13T00:00:00+00:00

I unlock the door to my apartment and unclip Dolly’s leash, and she heads straight over to her dog bed by the window and stretches out.

“I take it you’re tired too, huh?” I question through a chuckle. Her answer is to nuzzle her face between her paws and close her eyes.

If my life were that simple, I’d be doing the same. Between the early wake-up and running six miles and internal worrying over not hearing back from Sammy, I’m running on E—truly the definition of dirty, hungry, and tired.

The first two are easily solved with some food and a shower.

And the third is far more complicated when, deep down, I’m waiting to hear back from Sammy.

But she’s a single mom with two boys, and her life doesn’t come with a lot of free time. If I want to be with her, I need to get used to coming after a few things on her priority list. That includes hearing back from her when I send her a message.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

I could be immaturely worried and jump to conclusions that Sammy isn’t really the person I think she is and that she’s too busy to answer me because she’s on the phone with Gavin or something. But that wouldn’t be fair to the woman I care about.

Not to mention, the last person I want to think about is that douche in the suit.

Sure, I might be biased when it comes to Sammy, and it might sound real fucking petty of me to write a guy off as a prick without even knowing him, but from the first moment I laid eyes on Gavin in the emergency room a few weeks ago, I didn’t like him.

There’s something disingenuous I can’t quite put my finger on about the way he does things.

And I may not know anything else about the dynamics of Sammy and me and how best to make her life easier, but I sure as hell know that’s my goal.

I look over at Dolly once more—she’s already sound asleep—and decide to do something about being dirty and hungry. Those things are at least entirely under my control.

Down the hall and into the bathroom, I strip out of my clothes and hop into the shower. The warm water feels good against my skin, and I make quick work of cleaning up.

Once I’m out, dried off, and have tossed on a pair of boxer briefs and lounge pants, I head back into the kitchen to make a quick sandwich. Dolly barely opens her eyes to see what I’m doing, and I know she must be tired when she doesn’t even bother waking up to beg for half of my food.

As I spread some mayo over a piece of white bread, my phone pings with a notification, and I snag it off the counter with quick hands.

Though, when I see the sender, the twinge I caused in my neck with my overexcitement feels a little less worth it.

It’s Chase. Not Sammy.

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