Dead Against Her (Bree Taggert) by Melinda Leigh

Author:Melinda Leigh [Leigh, Melinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montlake
Published: 2022-05-16T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Todd drove home, parked in his driveway, and shut off the engine of his SUV. Sitting in the darkness, he pulled out his cell phone. It was after ten. Too late to call Cady?

Since Matt had suggested adopting a dog, Todd had been unable to get Cady out of his head. Who was he kidding? He’d been thinking about her nonstop for months, which was why he’d volunteered to help with the fundraiser. She’d offered to row while he swam—which was a great idea—but how much could he talk to her while he was in the river?

He was lonely, and an older dog would be a good fit for him. But he simply wanted to spend time with Cady. If he adopted one of her dogs, she’d need to come over and assess his house. She’d want to introduce him to multiple dogs. Hell, maybe by the time he actually picked a dog and adopted it, he and Cady would have established some kind of relationship that had nothing to do with the upcoming fundraiser or his triathlon training.

He sent her a text. HEY, WHAT DO U THINK ABOUT ME ADOPTING A DOG?

She responded immediately, and a tiny spark of joy flashed in him. I LOVE IT! I HAVE IDEAS.

He typed back, TALK TOMORROW?

She answered with a smiley face emoji that matched his mood perfectly.

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he stepped out of his car. Though it was late, and he’d had a long-ass day, the text exchange with Cady had energized him better than a thermos of coffee. In his driveway, he stopped and stared at his house.

Sitting in the middle of a one-acre wooded lot, it looked empty, almost like no one lived there. Then again, he didn’t really live there. He used the house for eating, sleeping, and doing laundry. He’d never invited guys over for a beer. He watched football alone. He’d never cooked a decent dinner.

Never had an overnight guest.

And that thought brought Cady to mind again.

It was time for a change.

As usual, he’d forgotten to leave a light on. He glanced over his shoulder at the neighbors’ house across the road. Lights glowed in the windows. Some kind of gold flowers brightened the front beds. Spotlights shone on a few ornamental trees and shrubs. The landscaping wasn’t fancy but made the place look like a home, as if the people who lived there cared about more than meeting the bare minimum.

In comparison, his own property was barren—almost forlorn—which he supposed reflected his own state of being.

He’d moved into the tiny bungalow after his divorce six—no, wait—almost seven years ago. He’d progressed from a personal pity party to plain apathy. The split might have been mostly amicable, but it had still left him depressed and uninterested in his personal life. He worked late most nights and had never cared much about appearances. The outdoor space was neat enough to keep the neighbors from complaining. He mowed the lawn and pulled the weeds, but he hadn’t put any effort into curb appeal.

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