Read Mr. August for Free Online Page B

shut her out, not the other way around. She grabbed a fashion magazine from her tote. If the article and pictures dedicated to Paris Fashion Week didn’t help, she was in big trouble. She paged through the magazine like a junkie in need of a fix. A small sound of pleasure came of its own volition at the sight of models clothed in flowing dresses, some in leopard and zebra prints, sunflower patterns, and shoes with gold studding.
    The joy was short-lived.
    A feral groan came from somewhere close to her soul. In a heartbeat she was in her coat, standing on the deck and staring in the direction of Max’s cabin.
    ****
    It was the damndest thing—words flowed out of him like someone turned a valve. Libby’s reference to stalking was exactly what his novel needed. Since then, he was on fire. Of course the stalking bit made a mess of his outline, but sometimes a writer had to stray from the original plan to make things click. Thanks to Libby he was not only clicking, he was painting the story with an efficiency that blew him away.
    Max slurped the last drop of coffee from his cup and shot the empty pot a look of longing. He needed another jolt of caffeine to stay awake. A coffee IV would be nice. He yawned so hard he almost fell out of the chair. Instead of going to bed last night, he’d pulled an all-nighter; something he hadn’t done since college. He was almost finished with another chapter. Soon he would nap. Neither would happen until he refilled his cup and gave his body a good stretch. All the sitting over the last several days made his butt numb and locked up his back.
    Rory jumped up from the rug in front of the sink where he’d been snoozing and scratched at the sliding doors.
    “I know. You need to go out.” Max slid the doors open. A gust of cold air hit him in the chest, making him shiver. He’d wanted to go out earlier but he was afraid the fresh air would’ve been too big of a disruption and he’d have a hard time coming back inside. Now it was too late. The skies had darkened, making it seem like dusk instead of two o’clock in the afternoon and the wind had picked up enough to sway the treetops. Goodbye, autumn. Hello, fringe of winter .
    Rory scampered outside without the leash. When Max didn’t leash him, the dog knew to take care of business and come right back. He sniffed the nearest tree and sprinkled the bark to mark his territory. He did the same to three more trees before looking back at Max and then sprinting off toward the lakefront.
    Max grabbed his jacket from the back of the loveseat and the leash from the counter. “Come back here.” He repeated the command several times, but it didn’t look as though Rory was going to surrender his freedom, and maintained his trek toward the lake. “You little shit!” It was hard to be a writing recluse when you had a dog. Maybe he’d let Libby have the miniature mongrel after all.
    Nah. Rory was his buddy, even if he was a pain. Without him, it would get damned lonely in that cabin. Straight away he thought about Libby being alone too. After reading that hurtful post he decided she’d come to Celina to regroup. A potent thought made him stop in his tracks—he and Libby weren’t that different. They both had the rug pulled out from under them. Although right now, it didn’t matter how alike they were, he had a dog to catch and a book to finish.
    A series of yips snapped Libby from her daze and a slow smile spread across her face. Rory was outside which meant so was his owner. Her heart did a weird flip in her chest.
    A gaggle of geese waddled along the shore and Rory’s small feet were running as fast they could go to join them. Libby didn’t know much about geese but they outnumbered him twenty to one and she had a feeling a furry intrusion wouldn’t go well. She looked for Max and found him heavy footing it after his dog.
    As predicted, the geese were in no mood for company. They relocated to another part of the lake instead of standing