"I won't fit under there," Broadrick said.

I glanced at his big ass SEAL body. The jerk probably worked out all the time just so he wouldn't have to crawl under porches in January. He'd been planning it. He probably paid the dog to betray me.

"Fine," I ground out and then dropped lower, army crawling under the porch. There wasn't time to argue with him. If I didn't get moving and do it, I never would.

In times of pressure, it was best to just move and not carry on about it. There'd always be time for bitching later and I'd made good use of it.

Mrs. Jones had a big ass porch, and as I crawled further in, Brent wiggled his way to the back until he hit the house.

I almost had him. My hand squished in something... squishy.

Oh no.

I gagged.

Brent hesitated, like he realized I needed a moment to compose myself.

"It's fine, Vonnie. You are going to be fine," I chanted to myself. "You will not cry."

Deep breaths.

I wiped the hand on the ground beside the squishy pile and then, without looking at him to give my motives away, I snatched Brent.

He yipped and wiggled, but fuck that. He wasn't going anywhere. I clutched him to my chest, not sure how to crawl back out. He licked my face, and I took more deep breaths, promising myself if I just finished this, I'd reward myself with chocolate.

And wine.

Pizza.

Lots of cookies.

A long ass shower and a bottle of hand sanitizer for my pocket.

After the pep talk and promises, I twisted around but didn't have enough room to turn while holding Brent. I'd have to back out.

Fun times.

Good memories.

I could do it.

Steps pounded against a floor, and I tensed. Did someone in Mrs. Jones' home figure out she had porch visitors? The ground above us didn't shake, but the sound reverberated from somewhere in the home. Brent licked my face again, and I told him to shush as voices carried from above and to the right of us.

"I'm sorry about Jalinda, but you have to focus on living your life," a woman's voice said. Since it was Mrs. Jones' home, I reasonably deduced it was her. That's why I was going to make a kick ass PI.

"How?" a male asked.

The floor shook again, and Brent growled.

"Not now, Brent," I whispered.

"Move ahead. Start a family."

It sounded like someone gave a small scream of frustration. I'd been there. Whatever they were discussing, they'd discussed before. Often. It had to be Jimmy.

"Are grandkids the only thing you care about? I don't want children. When are you going to accept that?" Jimmy wasn't happy about the conversation.

"I want grandkids," Ruth yelled.

Wow, she wasn't kidding. Woman had some feelings about the crotch fruits.

"I don't want children, Mom," Jimmy's voice rose with each word.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jimmy. That was Jalinda's hang-up, not yours."

"You have absolutely lost your mind," Jimmy yelled back and then feet pounded on the floor and a door slammed somewhere deeper in the home.

I paused, but everything stayed silent. It appeared the show had ended.

"Time to go, buddy." I scooted out backward from under the porch with Brent in one hand.

As soon as my feet cleared the porch, Broadrick helped pull me out. My knees ached and my legs were freezing, but I had the damn dog. Even if we were both covered in leaves and smelled like something I refused to name.

Broadrick reached for Brent, but I clutched him to my chest and walked through Mrs. Jones' yard toward the street. "Vonnie, where are you going, babe?"

"To return this dog before he escapes again." I refused to be deterred when the end was so close. I wasn't taking any chances. If I put him down, he'd make a run for it.

"How do you know it's Brent?" Broadrick kept pace right beside me.

Let's not give him too much credit. He wasn't wearing heels and hadn't stuck his hand in some kind of animal poop. There I said it. It was poop. I stuck my hand in poop.

Deep breaths, Vonnie. Deep breaths.

When I made it home, I was downloading a meditation app on my phone.

"Vonnie, shouldn't you make sure it's Brent first?" he prodded when I tried to ignore him.

I stopped at the crosswalk and waited to cross the road. Wind beat against my bare legs and from the way my foot hit the ground with each step I'd either broken a heel or an ankle. Since I wasn't in excruciating pain, only a normal amount, I figured it was the heel.

Broadrick and I both glanced at Brent, but he didn't see what I saw. "I can tell by his smile."

And damn it. I really could. His lips were bigger than Not Brents.

Broadrick slid his jacket over my shoulders, covering me and Brent. His warmth slid into my veins in an instant. It wouldn't be enough, but I appreciated it. He stared at Brent, trying to figure out the differences, as we walked through Pelican Bay on my mission to return the dog.

I walked up to Mrs. Coogs' front porch as Brent wiggled in excitement.

"Don't even think about it," I whispered in the dog's ear as I yanked a leaf from my hair. I was not losing him again.

Broadrick stepped back as if he thought I might explode. "I'll go back for your car while you deal with this. Try not to kill anyone."

"No promises." Then his words registered. "Wait. You drove Rachel?"

Broadrick smiled as I spun on him. "Babe, I couldn't kidnap you from the bar and then drag you back to your apartment on my motorcycle."

Right? Totally made sense. So he just stole my car instead. Perfectly reasonable.

My eye twitched.

Broadrick turned on the sidewalk back to the bar and I knocked on Mrs. Coogs' door. She opened it less than a minute later.

"Brent!" she screamed a second after getting a look at the dog in my arms. "You found my baby."

Brent jumped into her arms, covering her with dirt and leaves. I plucked a few from my hair. "Perfectly safe."

"Oh my goodness, look at you! Vonnie let you get all dirty," she said, walking into her home.

I followed her, reminding myself not to kill her. At least not before she paid me.

"That's for you, dear." Mrs. Coogs pointed to an envelope on the dining room table. "I had total faith you'd bring him back to me."

She walked into a side hallway and I snatched the envelope off the table and headed back out the door.

Five minutes later, I stuffed myself into the passenger seat of my Camaro after Broadrick refused to let me drive.

"It's for safety," he said, putting the car in drive.

I bucked my seat belt. "It's my car."

"Yes, but you're very angry." He adjusted a heating vent to hit my legs.

I closed my eyes, letting the heat warm the first layer of skin. I didn't want to ride back to my place on the back of Broadrick's bike, but if I got any poop on my seats, I was going to be pissed. They were leather.

You only got one free Camaro in life.

Probably.

Broadrick parked my car beside his bike in my apartment lot and I slammed the door when I got out. I needed a shower, a nap, and a small mental breakdown, but I still had too much to do before I rested.

First a shower.

I came to a powerful halt as Mrs. Mets opened the back door to the complex and stood in the opening with her hands on her hips.

Ugh. Not now.

"Vonnie, your rent is late. I'm not letting you in this place until you pay, young lady."

Was that even legal?

"Mrs. Mets, let's be rational here."

She narrowed her eyes at me and pointed a bony finger in my direction. "You have thirty seconds to pay or else you can find a new place to live."