Page 1 of Small Town Sizzle

Prologue

Garrett

“Iforget how gorgeous it is out here,” I sigh to myself as I take in the beautiful fall foliage that lines the interstate.

The leaves are starting to fall, and this stretch of highway will be bare and covered in ice and snow before long. I can feel my sinuses warning me to turn around and go back to the warm climate I left.

Can’t do that just yet.

I grip the steering wheel tightly.

I don’t want to go back to Hicks Creek, but I have no choice. At least I don’t have to see the disappointment on my parents’ faces anymore.

The car dings and I look down to see the gas light is on.

“Dang it,” I growl to myself.

I forgot to fill up at the last stop. The exit for Culver City comes up on my right, and I take it without much thought. It’s not like there’s a better option out here in the middle of nowhere.

I’m starting to get a headache anyway. I need food and caffeine, maybe some water, too.

The gas station is one of those truck drivers’ paradises, decorated in yellow and red with all the amenities they need, complete with a fenced-off dog park in the grass. I pull up to the pump and grab my wallet from the passenger seat. I turn around and start to close my car door when something knocks into me. My head slams back into my car.

“George! No!” Someone calls out in a shrill voice just as some giant furry black thing barks and jumps, pinning me against my car door with a set of giant fluffy paws on my chest.

George? What the fuck is happening?

Is this a nightmare spurred byUnderworldplaying on the television last night while I slept?

My vision is blurred for a moment; that familiar feeling of having my bell rung in a football game is back for the first time in a long time. Panic grips my chest.

Slow breaths. Open your eyes slowly.

Giant brown eyes stare back at me before the massive animal whines and furiously starts licking me.

“Oh my God, George, no! Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! George, heel!”

The animal yelps and whines before he licks my face one last time and then flops over to someone. I start wiping my face off; the fear that had enveloped me is now turning into agitation and anger.

Who names their dog George?

“You should keep a leash on that mutt. He could get hit or…imagine if he did that to a small child,” I ramble angrily.

I look down to see my new white Alabama polo covered in muddy paw prints. I groan inwardly. I’m already in a foul mood because I’m headed home to bury my mother, and I’m being forced to stand toe-to-toe with sins that I’ve never really atonedfor since I left and never looked back fifteen years ago. This beast of an animal isn’t helping anything.

“If you’re going to own a dog, you should be a responsible pet owner,” I continue angrily. “Who names a dog a human name anyway?”

“I did,” a voice hisses.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” A little girl sniffles nearby. “I thought I had the leash and…”

“It’s my fault. Please don’t take me back,” a smaller little boy begs tearfully as he rushes to the woman’s side.

“I’m not taking you back, Brady. You’re safe,” she says as she hugs him.

“It was an accident. George is too big for his own good, Jaz,” the teenage boy adds. “This guy is just a dick.”

“Alex!” the woman gasps.