Groomed For Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance by Flora Ferrari (hardest books to read txt) 📗

I haven’t seen my mom in six months, and every time I do she looks older and frailer.

“Just remember what I said,” she adds. “Give up that service, son. You’ve done more than your fair share,” she reminds me.

My shoulder throbs again. Always reminding me of that day, like they never took that damned bullet out.

“Don’t wait until it’s too late in life to start your own family… Not like your father and I did,” she laments. The tears threaten to return, but settle into a glassy look that I know is a reflection into the past.

Better times, all of them for her. And for my dad. Maybe better times for the whole world.

As I predict, it’s a sleepless night for me. Not that it would usually bother me or even surprise me after eating so much, but without Moose by my side, the only real family it feels like I have anymore. It’s a long and lonely night.

I can’t help but worry for him, even though I have the strange feeling he’s just fine without me, which honestly bugs me more than anything else.

I wait as long as I can once the sun’s up, but I can’t help it and before long I’m calling Sasha’s grooming salon and her cell trying to piece together just what the hell’s going on.

But there’s no answer.

There’s no breakfast yet either, my elderly mom being a late sleeper these days.

I use it as my window out and leaving a note as I slip out before she gets up. Rolling my truck down the gravel drive before starting it and heading back to the city.

I’ll call her later, I tell myself. Knowing I probably won’t.

Who was I kidding anyway? A whole two days with my mom?

It would’ve ended badly anyway. There’s a reason we don’t see each other often as it is.

I try the grooming salon and Sasha’s cell a dozen times on the way back to town, but nothing.

It’s my first port of call once I exit the freeway back into the city, as I decide to use my detective skills to find Moose if nobody will answer their damned phone.

Pulling up out front, I can see the ‘closed’ sign on the salon door, but I need to make sure Moose isn’t inside, so shielding my face with my hands against the glass I peer through the window.

Then I see it.

The note.

Red marker on a full sheet of paper, from someone, called Naomi.

I can’t believe what I’m reading.

Can’t believe anyone would be so naive, so innocent.

She’s politely written a note to tell me she’s looking after Moose, but instead of looking me up and calling me directly, she’s left her own cell number and address in the shop window for the whole world to see.

It’s behind glass, so I can’t tear it down.

Stabbing the cell number into my phone, I growl when it goes to voicemail.

Looks like a house call then.

Memorizing the address, I wince at the neighborhood. Poor Moose’s nose would be working overtime in his sleep if he’s had any.

It’s a known drug area and I don’t imagine Moose being able to switch off from his job.

I try Naomi a few more times along the way, wondering if it’s don’t answer your phone day or something all the way up until I reach her building.

Yep, it’s not where I’d want my dog put up for one night, let alone a whole weekend.

You did the right thing by coming back early.

“On my way to you now, buddy,” I murmur, locking up my truck and making sure it actually is locked before going inside.

I find the apartment she advertised for the whole city to see, surprised it’s not already taped off as a crime scene.

Before I can even give my cop’s knock on the grimy entrance, I hear Moose barking, then scratching at the door.

He’s okay. I know he is.

I hear a muffled, “Don’t tell me you need to go out again?” sleepy female voice before the door finally opens once I knock loudly again.

It opens an inch, a couple of chains stopping it from opening all the way, but not enough to stop Moose from trying to escape once he sees me.

Even though I only catch a glimpse of her, I feel myself having to pick my jaw up off the floor before I introduce myself.

“Officer Parker, K9 unit,” I hear myself tell her. “I’m here for my dog.”

Sleep misted eyes widen and I hear the chains loosen before Moose pushes his way out and leaps fully into my arms.

I’m happy to see him, sure.

But I can’t take my eyes off her.

She’s fucking perfect.

CHAPTER THREE

Naomi

Not again, Moose?

He can’t want to go out again. Surely.

Then I hear the knock. A cop’s knock if ever I’ve heard one.

Hear them every day in this building, but never on my door.

It’s hardly cold out, but as soon as I see him once I open the door just a little, as soon as I hear his deep voice introducing himself, I feel my nipples stiffen to under my T-shirt.

Sasha never said anything about Officer Parker being a six foot five wall of muscle that just happens to look like he stepped out of a magazine.

The phrase god’s gift to womankind springs to my mind, but not much else.

I’m suddenly awestruck by the man in front of me.

Dumbstruck is more the word.

Moose pushes the door aside once I let the chains off and leaps into his owner’s huge arms, which ripple and flex with a natural strength as he holds the huge dog as if he were still a puppy.

I try to say something, anything. But all I can do is run my eyes up and down his huge body as his dog wriggles with excitement, licking at his face, whining.

Making me wish I could switch with the hound for just a few moments.

To feel those strong hands gripping me so tight, to feel his hard body pressed