Page 18 of Will Bark for Pizza (Bluebell Springs #1)

FOURTEEN

KIRA

The sun sliced through my bedroom window, laser beaming right into my sleepy eyes. I didn’t want to close the curtains last night. I was searching the sky for a shooting star, hoping to wish away this special brand of hell.

But I doubted even a dozen shooting stars were enough to save Mom’s bookstore after what Dad told me.

I reached for my phone on the nightstand behind me, cursing at the time.

“Five thirty?” I grumbled, turning my back to the open curtains.

I expected to find Husker, curled up in his dog bed. The older he got, the more sleeping in became his life’s purpose. But his bed was empty.

The door was cracked open, though I distinctly remembered closing it last night. I didn’t want to risk any accidental glances of Beckett Campbell when he finally decided to head to bed. I had enough trouble keeping those trespassing thoughts at bay.

A faint hint of campfire hung in the air, the memory of me flirting shamelessly with it. What had I been thinking?

I groaned into my pillow. It was too early for any of this.

Against the will of my very tired body, I shoved aside the covers and forced myself out of bed to find my wandering dog.

But before I made it into the hall, I found a purple paddle propped against the doorframe.

My purple paddle.

How did he find it?

I was too tired, too stressed, too overwhelmed, to wrangle any of this so early in the morning. I placed the paddle inside my room and closed the door behind me.

Days started early at the farm. The sizzle of bacon and the light hum of conversation traveled to me as I came down the stairs. I expected to find my grandparents sharing breakfast, Husker mooching off of their plates.

He was mooching, all right. But not from Grandpa or Grandma Connie.

From Beckett.

“Sit,” Beckett said, his voice soft but stern as I peeked around the doorway.

Husker plopped his bottom down immediately, staring intently at the piece of bacon Beckett held between his pinched fingers.

“Good boy,” he said, a smile gracing his lips that caused a quiver low in my belly. He still hadn’t shaved, and I secretly hoped he wouldn’t any time soon. I’d be willing to bet Beckett with a full-on beard was even sexier than Beckett with three-or-four-day stubble.

He turned his attention back to his plate, and nearly caught me peeking. I quickly spun, hiding behind the doorway, my back plastered to the wall as my pulse raced erratically.

I couldn’t face him. Not before I had my morning coffee—and at least two more hours of sleep. I needed my wits about me, and my shields up.

Because I shouldn’t be flirting with a man who considered both my brothers his closest friends. The same man who’d made himself at home with my grandparents for the past three months. Everyone in this family loved him. That much was clear.

The last thing I needed to do was go and mess that up.

Or make a complete and total fool of myself when he rejected me.

But the way I felt seen last night was screwing with my senses. That, and my severe lack of sleep.

Beckett hadn’t pushed me to say a single thing more than I wanted to as we sat by the firepit.

He didn’t trick me into revealing my deepest, darkest fears so he could later weaponize them against me.

There were no passive-aggressive digs. He simply accepted what I had to offer, and expected nothing more.

And he definitely flirted back. Exhausted or not, I didn’t misread that.

Since Travis, I’d wanted nothing to do with men.

My heart was wrung dry after that nightmare.

I never wanted to wonder again why my love wasn’t enough.

I didn’t need to feel the painful sting of rejection that left me lost and humiliated.

I recognized it now for the manipulation it was, but that didn’t mean I’d be signing up for it again.

I was safer on my own, just Husker and me.

Yet all Beckett Campbell had to do was flash me one of those easygoing, sexy half smiles, and I had to fight the urge to fling myself at him. Oh God, how I wanted to crawl right into his lap last night to see if he’d kiss me breathless. He seemed like a man who knew exactly how to work those lips.

“It’s all gone, Husker,” Beckett said, a low chuckle escaping his throat.

I stole another peek and found Beckett rubbing the back of my dog’s neck with vigor.

As though he didn’t mind at all if he was covered in dog hair for it.

My nipples tightened, reminding me I wasn’t wearing a bra beneath my oversized T-shirt.

Husker tilted his head, and caught sight of me.

I flung myself behind cover again, but the jingle of his collar warned me he was coming.

Shit.

I couldn’t be seen like this, with yesterday’s makeup no doubt smeared all over my face. I hadn’t even bothered to brush my hair that was strangled in a ponytail holder, and I was wearing a pair of Scooby Doo pajama shorts I had since college.

I took the stairs two at a time, Husker dead on my heels like it was a game of tag, and hurried down the hall.

Husker hopped onto my bed, and I closed the door.

“Bubbies, you traitor,” I teased.

Husker rolled onto his back, disguising the demand for belly rubs as submission. I crawled back into bed, and gave in .

I didn’t know at what point I fell back to sleep, only that I woke to repeated chimes from my phone. The sun was higher in the sky, and my stomach was rumbling in objection. I wondered if there was any bacon left. How long had it been since I had a homemade breakfast that wasn’t a protein shake?

Wiping sleep from my eyes, I unlocked my phone.

Lila: Are you up?

Lila: Please tell me you’re up!

Lila: Kira?

Lila: I’m too excited to wait, but I don’t want to wake Growly Kira.

Lila: Do they have DoorDash there? I can send you coffee.

Lila: Please call me!!!

I wasn’t exactly a morning person. Lila knew me well.

Before I could save her the trouble and call her back, I noticed one other text message from a number I didn’t have saved. One with a Nebraska area code.

Unknown: I know u luv me kare bear :)

I tossed my phone as though it were on fire. Husker hopped off the bed as though we were under attack.

Dammit, Kira. Rein it in.

“Sorry, Bubbies.” I had to stop reacting this way, at least for his sake.

I rubbed both hands over my face and forced myself to breathe through my panic spike.

Travis hadn’t bothered me in over two weeks.

It was a record. I blocked his latest number, his email on three different email accounts, and even Venmo.

He didn’t have most social media, on account of him being too damned paranoid.

But it’d been almost two months since he changed his phone number.

I was foolish enough to think he was through with phone number roulette.

I focused on deep breaths, and my racing heart slowed.

I reached for my phone and went through the motions that, at this point, were automatic.

I didn’t respond to his text. I’d learned that nothing I said mattered.

I could tell him I still loved him or tell him to go straight to hell, and it had the exact same impact—it created an opening.

The words didn’t matter. Only the response.

I hadn’t responded since the night we broke up, almost a year ago.

That didn’t stop Travis from trying dozens of tactics to get a rise out of me. Anything from begging me to give him another chance, to telling me how horrible a person I was to hurt him.

I stopped reading most of them.

After this new number was blocked and the text deleted from my phone, I called Lila.

“Kira!” she shrieked, her excitement overpowering, reminding me I had yet to find coffee. I rarely drank anything other than iced, but today, I was willing to make an exception .

Husker hopped back on the bed, head tilted as though searching for his friend. Lila was one of his favorite people.

“Hey, Lila. What’s the big news?”

“You don’t know, do you?” She sounded giddy, like she was about to explode with barely contained excitement.

“Know what?”

“Oh, my eeeh !”

Husker tilted his head all the way to the side at the high-pitched squeal, staring straight at the phone I’d since put on speaker and dropped beside me.

“You hit the top ten.”

“What?”

“Top. Ten. In the whole store.”

She paused, no doubt giving me time to let what she was saying soak in, but I could still hear a faint tapping noise. Something like a woodpecker on a sugar high. Or the patiently impatient tap of her perfectly manicured nails against her kitchen table.

The image it conjured pulled a reluctant smile as I dug my laptop out of its bag for the first time since I packed the car, and powered it on. I held my breath as I waited for everything to load, and the Wi-Fi to connect.

“Are you looking?” she asked.

“Yeah. It’s loading.”

I pulled up my browser and typed in Forever Forbidden in the search bar. It populated Diana Davenport, along with the book title.

On the listing, I scrolled down to the ranking.

Then I squealed.

Number nine .

Husker hopped off the bed and paced around it, his tail wagging. He didn’t know why we were excited, but he wasn’t about to be left out of the party.

“This is real?” I asked, my words almost a whisper.

Tears threatened the corners of my eyes.

How long had I hoped for this kind of success?

It seemed like years since I added make the top ten to my vision board.

Back when I was a newbie author hardly anyone knew.

My books did well, especially after that viral TikTok several months ago, but this was a whole new level.

“It’s real, babe! I’ve taken, like, a million screenshots.”

“How is this possible?”

“You mean, how is it possible your book is doing so damn well, besides the fact you have the best PA in the entire world doing your release marketing and running your ads? And before you ask, no, I have not gone over budget.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, besides all that.”