Pieces of it All Read Online Free Page A

thought.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
    The gentle breeze danced against Beth's skin, a welcome interruption from the still, humid air. Given the choice of wrapping her body with a blanket protecting her from the cold air conditioning or the soft wind tickling her, she'd rather enjoy her book outside. The trick lies in dressing for the occasion, in this case a knee length black puffy skirt and pastel green A-line tank. Her legs enjoyed the exposure to the air as she curled up on the chaise lounge. The porch, which lined the entire front of her house, relaxed her as long as she had a book in hand.
    Three weeks and not a peep from Lucy. Not even a quick text checking in. Beth stalked Lucy's Facebook page more often than she cared to admit, and seeing selfies uploaded pissed her off. An empty timeline didn't sting as much as an active one. Okay, so Beth hadn't put life on hold either, but a little pining would've been nice. Being cut out of her life hurt as badly as it sounded.
    Ugh, she had to give in at some point. No matter who apologized first, they'd remain best friends. Damn! Giving in meant Lucy won. How many times had Lucy triumphed in the past? All of them, Beth figured. The wind caught her hair, strands escaping into the air. Fine. After reading another chapter, she'd call Lucy.
    "Ahem."
    The book fell onto her lap as she let out a gasp. Harvey Etheridge stood at the bottom steps of her porch. The Harvey. He still looked damn good. A clean shave exposed his smooth-looking skin, and she fought a gravitational urge to press her finger into the deeply set chin dimple. His simple white tee shirt clung to his chest, and his jeans had to be pasted on as well in this heat.
    "Beth, is it?" Jealousy engulfed Beth as he placed his fingertip in the dimple. Lucky finger.
    She grabbed the book off the ground and tossed it on the chair as she stood up. "Yes. Beth. Harvey, right?" Two could play this game.
    A smirk covered his face. "Yep. We meet again." He combed his fingers through his hair, scratching the top of his head. "My dog, Bullet, ran away. Did he come this way? He's a tiny little thing, a brown pug with some gray above his eyes. Scrappy fellow for eight years old. Even in scorching hot weather, he sure can run and hold his own."
    At least forty minutes had passed since she came outside. The street was so quiet - a gravel road tucked away behind a subdivision. Squirrels scurried across the lawn, and birds chirped in surround sound. If Bullet found his way to her yard, she wouldn't mistake the pounding paws on the lawn. Her book engrossed her, though, and she didn't even hear Harvey approach. "Sorry, I haven't. I'll keep an eye out for him." She removed her hands from the banister, letting them fall to her side. "Bullet, you said?"
    He wiped his forearm across his forehead. "Yeah. My father loves guns, so he thought Bullet would be a funny name."
    "I like it. If he shows up, I'll let you know. Friendly little guy?" She ran through topics in her head to keep the conversation going. What else could she ask about a dog? Was he a purebred? Did he snort? Did he eat a lot? Think. Anything.
    He put his right leg on the stair, perching himself. "Sweet as can be. I'm sure he'd come to you and you could bring him home to me."
    Harvey shoved his hands into his front pockets, loosening them more on his waist. She peeked at the little bit of skin exposed on his abdomen. Six pack, possibly? She hoped. "I better check a few other houses, and then pick up a new battery for my car before work tonight." He pointed to a bike he had parked just down the driveway. "Typically I wouldn't be driving this thing around town. I feel like I'm twelve years old."
    The dark blue bike had a white stripe running along the handlebars. The banana seat made her butt cringe. "You don't look twelve years old."
    "Doesn't mean I'm comfortable. I don't think I've ridden one since I was about nine."
    She crossed her legs at the ankles and placed her