The Designated +1 by Ellie Cahill EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Ellie Cahill
- Language: English
- Genre: Contemporary Women’s Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
BRE AKI N G & A N N OY I N G
Estelle and Getty lifted their furry heads at the same moment. That
was nothing new; the bichons alerted to every little thing. Then
Getty let out a sharp bark, hopping to her feet, followed by Estelle, and I
heard it, too: the front door opening and the sound of heavy footsteps. My
heart leapt into my throat. Please don’t let me be murdered in a James god
damned Brady’s house wearing Cookie Monster pajamas.
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I cocked my head, listening hard. I was used to feeling jumpy in client’s
houses when I dog-sat. Everyone’s houses have their own little quirks and
make spooky night time noises that the owners aren’t even aware of.
Then the front door closed. That was no trick of my ears. That wasn’t
the sound of a furnace kicking on.
The footsteps started up again, and I looked around the kitchen in a
panic. Run away or try to defend myself?
Estelle and Getty barked, trotting out of the kitchen with curiosity. Part
of me wanted to call them back, try to protect them from the intruder, but I
didn’t want to alert him to my presence. I tiptoed across the kitchen to draw
the long chef’s knife out of the wooden block on the counter before
continuing toward the back hall. I could make it to the back door, I was
certain, but would the sound of opening it be worth the risk?
One of the bichons started barking, and a male voice said, “Shut up,
Getty.”
He knew the dog’s name? And which one was which? I hesitated, the
knife trembling in my hand.
The footsteps got louder and suddenly a figure appeared in the archway.
He was tall, wide, and absolutely filthy.
I screamed and made an idiotic slashing motion in front of me with the
knife, despite the twenty feet of floor space between us.
He screamed, letting a duffle bag fall, and dropping into a crouch with
his hands raised protectively in front of his face. Estelle and Getty took the
opportunity to jump up, resting their paws on his shoulders and licking his
face, their poofy white tails wagging a mile a minute.
“Get off me,” he shouted, batting the bichons away.
“What do you want?” I screamed.
“Me? What do you want?” He raised his head, giving me a clearer view
of his face for the first time.
Recognition clicked. “Will?” I asked, incredulously.
Will Brady squinted at me. “Hadley Bradley?”
The tip of the knife drooped, but I didn’t put it down. My entire body
was still racing with adrenaline. Although now a dash of annoyance joined
the race. Hearing my first and last name together never failed to irk me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here!” he protested, knocking Getty away again as the little white
dog attempted to resume licking his face.
“No, you don’t.”
He rose to his feet. “My parents do. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m watching Estelle and Getty while your parents are in Mexico.”
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