Whiteout by Cambria Hebert

Author:Cambria Hebert [Hebert, Cambria]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Otherworld Publications, LLC
Published: 2011-11-20T05:00:00+00:00

She was quiet all morning as she cleaned up the blood and glass in the hall. She didn’t say anything when she went into the bedroom and saw the window raised high. Her color looked better when she appeared out of the steamy bathroom wearing nothing but a white robe. She was towel drying the ends of her hair as she walked into her bedroom but stopped short when she saw that I was lying at the foot of her bed.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, shaking her head.

I knew better than to think this was my home but that hadn’t stopped me from getting comfortable.

She sighed. “If it wasn’t for you I’d probably be dead right now anyway.” She moved over toward a large wooden dresser and picked up a brush to begin running it through her damp hair. “He probably didn’t realize anyone was here and thought he would be able to come in and take what he wanted. I’m going to have to call the police as soon as the phone lines start working again.”

I watched her silently, hoping she would keep talking. I liked the sound of her voice. It was smoky and low.

“What did you do with that body anyway?” she asked, turning to stare at me.

I said nothing.

“I guess that’s the police’s problem.” She unbelted her robe and slid it off, letting it fall to the floor. I bit back a groan.

She was dressed in a pair of white panties and a white tank top. Her skin was completely smooth and unblemished. She was thin but had curves in all the right places. My tongue about fell out of my head when she bent down to retrieve a pair of jeans from the bottom drawer.

There were benefits to her thinking I was a dog.

I watched in silence as she slid the denim up over her curves and fastened the button then she reached into the drawer again and pulled out a long-sleeved white t-shirt to pull on. Before doing so, she turned toward me and I caught a glimpse of her flat stomach before she smoothed the tank and shirt down.

“You have an unnerving stare,” she muttered, turning away to pick up her robe and towel. Once those were put away she headed for the door. “Come on then, I’m making some breakfast. Since you’re such a good guard dog, you get something special.”

I watched her in the kitchen. She moved with ease and comfort. I watched her hands as she cracked eggs and she smiled when the cinnamon biscuits turned out fluffy. She laughed when she spilled her coffee and swore when the bacon burned.

I got the burned bacon. Apparently, she thought dogs would eat anything.

She was right.

When the kitchen was clean and our bellies were full, she carried a mug of steaming tea out into the living room and sat down in a chair by the fire. I stretched out on the couch, waiting for her to shoo me down but she never did.

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