As if I’m going to open my mouth and tell her, This pouch is making me crazy—get it off.
I avert my gaze while she ogles me, not liking to look directly into anyone’s eyes. I also don’t like being photographed. Or peeing on fire hydrants—that’s a total myth.
“What’s this?” Girl fingers the pouch dangling from my neck.
I shake it.
“Humphrey, stop,” she tells me. I don’t stop.
“Need help?” Boy asks, kneeling beside her, hands coming to untie the ribbon securing the pouch. He loosens it easily, tugging it free and palming it.
Girl stands, staring down at us both, adorable me and Boy, who is on bended knee, removing a black box from the black pouch.
“What…” Girl looks perplexed. Sounds perplexed.
“Spencer,” Boy is saying, and I’m all—Who the hell is Spencer? “I know we haven’t known each other long, but it feels like I’ve known you for my entire life. I’ve never regretted quitting the Bastard Bachelor Society for a second, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Oh my God, Phillip,” she says breathlessly, and I’m all—Who the hell is Phillip? “What are you doing?” Her hands fly to her mouth.
Yeah Boy, what are you doing? It’s cold down here. Maybe you should stand up—you’re making an ass of yourself.
Get to the point so we can go home.
I bark.
“Humphrey and I love you. We couldn’t imagine our life without you.”
I can imagine my life without her just fine, thank you very much. Since she moved in, I’m not allowed on the bed.
“The minute I saw you, I knew.”
Girl tilts her head—she does that a lot when she’s being cheeky. “Oh really? You knew when you were throwing up that I was your soul mate?”
“Are you trying to make me lose my train of thought here?”
“Spencer Victoria Standish, would you make me the happiest man in the world and be my wife?”
“Can we serve pink cake and chips at the wedding?”
That sounds disgusting.
“Yes.” Boy flips the top of the black box up and extends it toward her, a loud gasp escaping her lips.
“Phillip! Oh my God, Phillip—it’s so beautiful!”
I grunt, bored.
Shake my collar again so they know I’m serious about it, hit Boy’s elbow. With a loud scream from Girl, the black box goes flying through the air, landing in a nearby snowbank.
“Holy shit!” Boy yells, lunging for the box, releasing my leash.
Freedom! Sweet freedom!
I seize the opportunity, turning toward home, and jog down the sidewalk from whence we came.
“Humphrey!” they both shout, frantically digging through the snow, torn.
“You run and grab him—I’ll find the ring!” Boy tells her, and I hear her behind me, giving chase.
A chase, a chase—I love a good chase!
I speed up.
“Humphrey, no! Bad dog,” she cries. “Heel! Bad dog. Stop!”
I run and run and run because, as it turns out…
I am the boss.
The Kiss and Make Up Series
Kissing in Cars
He Kissed Me First
A Kiss Like This
#ThreeLittleLies Series
Things Liars Say
Things Liars Hide
Things Liars Fake
How to Date a Douchebag Series
The Studying Hours
The Failing Hours
The Learning Hours
The Coaching Hours
The Lying Hours
Jock Hard Series
Switch Hitter
Jock Row
Switch Bidder
Jock Road
For a complete updated list visit: https://authorsaraney.com/books/
About the Author
Sara Ney is the USA Today Bestselling Author of the How to Date a Douchebag series, and is best known for her sexy, laugh-out-loud New Adult romances. Among her favorite vices, she includes: iced latte’s, historical architecture and well-placed sarcasm. She lives colorfully, collects vintage books, art, loves flea markets, and fancies herself British.
For more information about Sara Ney and her books, visit:
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