Page 32 of Stunner (Whiskey Dolls 3)

I rolled my eyes on a groan. “Yes, yes. I know my dog is a menace. Can we please move on?”

“Okay, fine. How many texts have you sent?” she asked.

“Three.” The first one was sent the night I brought Triumph home. It had taken the better part of thirty minutes, but I’d managed to get the rambunctious dog to cooperate enough to take a picture of him looking adorable and cuddly, and sent that to Owen with the caption:I’m really sorry for pooping on your floor. I thought he’d get a laugh out of it, but I’d also secretly been hoping it would start an ongoing conversation between us because... well, because I just wanted to talk to him.

I figured it was because he was already in bed, or maybe he’d seen it, but it had been too late to respond, so he’d planned on replying the following morning instead. When that didn’t happen, I’d fired off another message.

Me:Hope you have a good day today.

It was kind of corny, sure, and I might have cringed when I heard the littlewhooshsound that indicated the text had been sent off, but what was done was done. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it had those three floating bubbles indicating the person on the other end of the message was actively typing not appeared moments later, only to disappear again with no response following.

With my heart in my throat, I’d given it one last try, shooting off another message around lunch today, keeping it casual by mentioning a puppy playdate for Triumph and Gus. What I got in return was a whole lot of nothing.

I didn’t want to be that person, the one who overthought every tiny little detail, picking it apart until I’d worked myself into a lather, but it was easier said than done. So, I’d done mybest to push my anxiousness to the back of my mind and packed Triumph up for an afternoon outing to the park. Only, my stupid mind refused to stop swirling, leading me to eventually text Sloane in the hopes of finding answers.

“So, what do you think it means?” I asked, chewing nervously on my thumbnail. “Do you think I’m being ghosted?”

“No.” She blew out a raspberry and gave her head a shake. “No, not a chance. No way.” Her lips pulled into a wince. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

My eyes went wide, my jaw falling open. “Oh my God! How is that helpful?”

“I know that wasn’t exactly helping, but you’ve got to admit, it’s kind of confusing, right?”

She couldn’t be serious. I was seconds away from trading her in as my best friend. “I know! Why do you think I texted you in the first freaking place?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I know, I’ll do better.” She closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, as if she were centering herself. “He’s not ghosting you.”

Oh, for the love of—“I don’t want a pep-talk, Sloane. I want your honest opinion. What do you think I should do?”

“Well...” she trailed off, looking off-screen thoughtfully, “I think, instead of wasting all this time and energy trying to guess what the man is thinking, you should just go ask him.”

I let out a sigh, tilting my head back and closing my eyes so the sun could warm my face. “I knew you were going to be all mature and stuff,” I grumbled sullenly.

Her expression pulled into an exaggerated pout. “Aw, poor baby. Is being an adult too hard?”

I did my best to throw venom at her with my eyes. “Why are we friends again?”

“Because we complete each other,” she answered with an unrepentant smile. “We’re two different kinds of crazy, so we’re able to balance each other out.”

I reluctantly agreed that she might have a point and promised I’d do the adult thing and shoot straight with Owen before ending the call and heading back to my building with Triumph.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I said to Triumph as the elevator took us up to our floor. “I promise to make these park adventures a regular thing if you promise to stop peeing all over my floor. Deal?”

He opened his mouth and let his tongue flop out the side as his tail swished back and forth in a blur.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” I giggled at him just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. We stepped out of the car and into the hall, and just like that, Triumph’s happy-go-lucky demeanor shifted. The hair along his spine stood up straight, his ears pressed back, and a low growl made his whole body vibrate as he froze in place.

I gave the leash a tug, trying to get him moving without hurting him. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with that thing?”

My head shot up, my eyes pinned to my ex standing at my front door. “What the—Why—” I sputtered for a few more seconds before my brain reengaged. “What the hell are you doing here?” I finally managed to snap. He stepped away from my door just then, moving beneath one of the fluorescent lights and giving me a clear view of his mangled face. “And what the hell happened to you?”

A white bandage was taped across the bridge of his extremely swollen nose, and the skin beneath was muddled with different shades of blue, purple, and sickly yellow bruising.

He reached up, as if just remembering his face was all kinds of jacked up and touched the bandage with a wince. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing. Looks like someone kicked your ass,” I said with a pleased smile.

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