Roger E-Book

SJD Peterson

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 83

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Texas native Colt Burrow isn't happy about his third cold, lonely Christmas in frozen Michigan. But when fate sends him a gift in the form of an abandoned puppy, he can't keep his heart from melting. With the puppy's companionship, he doesn't feel so isolated anymore, and the holidays don't seem as bleak. He even finds enough Christmas spirit to take Roger tree shopping. But just when Colt's starting to hope Roger's owner doesn't show up… he does, and Colt doesn't want to say goodbye. Will Roger end up being Colt's Christmas heartbreak… or his Christmas miracle?

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Epilogue

More from SJD Peterson

About the Author

By SJD Peterson

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright

Roger

By SJD Peterson

Texas native Colt Burrow isn’t happy about his third cold, lonely Christmas in frozen Michigan. But when fate sends him a gift in the form of an abandoned puppy, he can’t keep his heart from melting. With the puppy’s companionship, he doesn’t feel so isolated anymore, and the holidays don’t seem as bleak. He even finds enough Christmas spirit to take Roger tree shopping. But just when Colt’s starting to hope Roger’s owner doesn’t show up… he does, and Colt doesn’t want to say goodbye.

Will Roger end up being Colt’s Christmas heartbreak… or his Christmas miracle?

To all those who love their furbabies… this is for you. Merry Christmas!

Chapter One

A STIFF northern wind blew, sending a shiver to race down Colt Burrow’s spine. He drew his coat tighter around him, put his head down, and quickened his steps. After spending the first twenty-eight years of his life in Texas, he was sure there was no chance in hell he’d ever get used to Michigan’s bitterly cold winters. This was the third year in a row dealing with the frigid season, and it hurt his face, stole his breath, and tightened his muscles just as painfully as the first one. It might be stunning to see, especially when the sun glinted off new-fallen snow, but Colt was beginning to think he’d prefer to have a nice photo of such beauty rather than actually having to endure it. Why? Why would anyone want to live somewhere where going outside hurt his or her face? It was nuts! Yet here he was, so….

After his five-year relationship with Frank ended, Colt was reminded of his failures every time he’d run into Frank—one of the major drawbacks of living in a small town. It might not have been so bad if Frank had been as miserable as Colt was. However, within a couple of weeks after Frank had packed his bags and walked out on Colt with no explanation, Frank had moved on. Seeing him laughing and chatting with his new man had simply been too much for Colt to handle. That same night, he’d sent out his résumé, and within a month, he was Dow’s newest chemical engineer and living in Midland, Michigan.

“In bitterly cold Midland, Michigan,” he clarified.

At the corner, he looked both ways—the coast clear—and ran across the road. Salty slush soaked his shoes and splashed on his pants. Colt cursed under his breath. Everything seemed to irritate him as of late, and not just the crappy weather. All the fuss of the holiday irked him, especially all the bright lights and colorful decorations. He rolled his eyes as he passed his neighbor’s house. It was a small ranch; did they seriously need to deck the halls over every square inch? The interior was probably just as ridiculously decorated. Trudging up the snow-covered walkway to his dark house, he pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the deadbolt, and stepped inside. A warm blast of air hit him, and he quickly shut the door and leaned against it. He blew out a heavy breath, relieved to be hidden within his house and able to shut out the world. In his current mood, he wasn’t able to deal with people or the holiday or… the world. The real kicker was, he didn’t understand why he was so cranky. He’d always loved the holiday season. It had been a special time of year when he was growing up. His mom and dad never believed in the commercialization of it, so there was no emphasis on Santa Claus or going in debt to stack an absurd amount of gifts beneath the tree. Nor were they overly religious, but they truly believed in the giving spirit of the season and instilled it in Colt and his younger brother, Shane. Doing for others was the true joy of Christmas.

It shouldn’t matter that there were no presents under the tree; he hadn’t even put one up. Not so much as a single colorful bulb lit up his house—there were no decorations at all, in fact. He knew all too well the power of giving and should focus on that, but he just wasn’t feeling it this year. Hell, he hadn’t enjoyed the past two Christmases either. There was something painfully sad about spending the holidays alone. He knew he was being selfish, concentrating on himself rather than others, but dammit, he missed his friends, his family, the warm weather, and salt- and slush-free streets.

Pushing away from the door, Colt shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the hook. He bent and untied his shoes, wrinkling his nose at the mess on his pants and rug. As he straightened, he shook his head at himself. He’d ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes and nearly frozen his butt off for some damn cigarettes. “What an idiot.” He kicked off his shoes, then retrieved the pack from his coat pocket. He wasn’t about to waste them now, considering all the trouble he’d gone through to get them—addict’s logic.

After changing into a pair of flannel lounge pants, T-shirt, warm sweater, and dry socks, Colt set a pot of coffee to brew. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the counter to wait. He kept glancing at the carafe every couple of seconds. It seemed to be especially slow tonight. The coffee maker was mocking him. “Stupid thing, you mind hurrying it up?”

Good God, you’re scowling and cursing at a machine. He’d officially lost control. Colt snatched his cigarettes and lighter from the island. At the back door, he pulled on his yard boots and stepped out onto the covered deck. He put a cig between his lips, lit up, and took a long pull, allowing the flow of nicotine to work its magic. He took another hit and blew it out slowly, watching as the wind swept the smoke away. If only his foul mood could be taken care of so easily.

Maybe it was time to give up his foolish pride and go back home. It had been three years. He no longer cared if Frank was happily screwing every man in town. Hell, he didn’t care about Frank, period. So why should he stay away from his friends and family another Christmas? He continued his nicotine fix as he weighed the pros and cons. Yes, he missed his family and friends, but he was determined to make it here. He loved his job and really liked the people he worked with. He’d recently been promoted to project manager, and if he left now, he’d let his team down. He hated the winter weather, but Texas summers weren’t any picnic either. He also had his house to think about. Two years of blood, sweat, and tears to turn a neglected 1950s dump into a warm and cozy place. He loved his house, the neighborhood, and the town.

By the time Colt finished his smoke, he was shivering so badly he could barely stub it out and toss it in the can. Worse, he hadn’t found any answers to his questions, but hey, his nicotine level was better. He laughed at his stupidity and had turned to head back inside when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It had to be his neighbor’s cat; the thing was constantly escaping. The silly feline had made a bad choice running out tonight. The temperature was going to plummet well below zero with the wind chill by morning. Colt had better try to catch it.

“Blue? Is that you? C’mere, kitty, kitty.”

He moved down to the end of the deck where he’d seen the movement and got a shock. It wasn’t Blue he’d discovered but a small reddish-brown dog—possibly a Jack Russell or Rat Terrier—with big ears and a silver collar, shivering behind the grill.

Colt squatted down. “Hey, little one. Where did you come from?” The dog looked at him with big, soulful brown eyes. With the frigid night, he wasn’t sure if the pup was shaking from cold or fright. Colt didn’t make any sudden movements and kept his voice calm and soothing.

“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” He slowly held out his hand. The dog flinched but didn’t run away. Colt carefully moved his hand closer until the dog could sniff it. “That’s it. See, I’m not a bad guy. Not like the idiot who let you out to run free on a night like this.”

The dog licked Colt’s hand as if it agreed with him. Colt petted the dog’s head, then scratched behind its ears. “How about we head inside, and you let me check out that tag on your collar. What do you say?”

The dog tilted its head like it was trying to figure out what Colt was saying.

“Yes, I talk to coffeepots and dogs. I’m weird that way.”