Page 162 of Falling for the Enemy

Cordelia proudly marched inside with her head high. King tromped after her like an obedient Clydesdale. If this was some elaborate prank to get her to call him, he was getting an earful when she got a hold of him.

Irritated, she picked up her phone and went through the prompts to unblock his number.

King pranced over to Cordelia’s tiny food water bowl and drank, flipped it onto the floor, trying to get his oversized snout inside.

“Hey! King, get out of there!”

The rhino swallowed a whole bowl of Cordelia’s food in one bite.

The call went to voicemail. “Soren, your dog is here. I know you did this on purpose and I really don’t appreciate it. Call me back, or better yet, come get your moose of a dog.”

She ended the call and paced, waiting for him to call back. Then she realized she just invited him over.

“Shit.”

She didn’t want him here. This was her space, her sanctuary. Plus, she was currently rocking zombie-glam and not really giving the impression she wanted to leave him with.

With a huff, she marched upstairs to change. After throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater, she faced her reflection in defeat. She was too far gone and would need a firehose to fix her appearance at this point.

Deciding it was better if she looked scary—safer—she called the dogs, “Come on, you two, we’re going for a car ride.”

The moment the dogs heard the magic words, they went ballistic. Getting King into her tiny hatchback was an exercise of determination and a lesson in ergonomics. Honestly, there was more of him out of the car than in the car when she pulled away.

Navigating the back road at a crawl, she thought through all the things he might try to say to her, mentally drafting rebuttals to shut him up.

Cordelia sat like a princess, safely latched into her car seat, while King sat in a tangle of limbs, with his chest and head hanging out the passenger window.

Not once did her phone ring on the drive to Soren’s, which only proved this was some elaborate setup to get her to talk to him.

It helped if she pictured punching him in the dick for disrupting her evening. She had been on a roll, and now her characters were stranded in the climax where she so rudely abandoned them.

Her lips pursed when she pulled up right behind his Escalade. She should just let King out there. But she’d never forgive herself if the big dummy got hit by a car or dog-napped.

“Come on, you big oaf.” She opened the door, and King loped out with a proud bark.

Jocelyne unclipped Cordelia, and the chihuahua pranced after him like a love-blind conspirator.

“You’re both traitors,” she grumbled, climbing out of the car.

She marched up the step and pounded on the double doors. When he didn’t answer, she knocked again. “Soren! I know you’re in there. I have your dog.”

She jiggled the handle, but the door was locked. She pounded again.

The dogs bolted off the porch and darted around the side of the house.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Jocelyn rushed after them, but her body was broken from days of sitting and they moved as fast as a racehorse and a squirrel.

“King! Cordelia! Come!”

They darted around the enormous house before she even made it to the side.

“Deelie, you listen to Mommy!” This was why she didn’t have kids.

Just as she rounded the side yard, they bolted for the back. Their claws carved divots into the sod as they picked up speed, racing toward the back as if the hounds of hell were on their heels.

Already getting a cramp in her side, Jocelyn cursed and fell into a lazy trot. Breath ragged, she rounded the back corner and stumbled back as the world collapsed into a glowing swirl of beauty.