My eyes widened. ‘What did you do?’
He started to back out through the door again, adding, ‘Remember our love when you go in the kitchen too.’
Fearful for what destruction he might have wrought, I closed the door and went to see.
Amber sashayed out of the living room just as I got to it.
‘You will insist on letting him live in the house,’ she chided, basically reminding me that whatever I found was my fault.
Going into my living room, I couldn’t decide if my eyes should be wide to take it all in or peering through my fingers so I could absorb it just a piece at a time.
There was a lot of fluff. It could have been much worse. A casual inspection suggested one of my throw pillows had bought the farm in a spectacular way. I might be able to understand what he had to say, but I was never going to work out why he did the things he did. I guess when all is said and done, he is just a dog. A youngish one at that.
Tidying up the mess could wait. I went to see if the kitchen had fared worse.
Amber was on the kitchen counter, next to the cupboard that contained her food. ‘He refuses to use the litter tray, Felicity. Perhaps a kennel if you cannot get on board with the euthanasia idea?’
Over by the back door, was something I couldn’t leave for later. Not that I wanted to deal with it now either. Curling my lip, I went in search of rubber gloves, spray disinfectant, and toilet tissue.
It really wasn’t his fault; I was the one who didn’t come home. As for the litter tray, I couldn’t imagine what might happen to it if he were to attempt to use it. I thought it most likely he would put one paw on the edge and flip the contents across the room.
I didn’t dwell too long on that mental image.
With the flick of a finger, the coffee machine was pressed into service and I walked back through the house unbuttoning my blouse as I went. I was more than ready for a shower. My bedroom is first on the left next to the front door, convenient for letting Buster out into the garden late at night and first thing in the morning. He always sleeps next to my bed anyway.
Dropping my blouse into the hamper, I started to fiddle with my bra. I managed to dislocate my left shoulder a week ago and mundane tasks like taking off my bra were proving difficult still. Buster was wandering back past my window heading for the door so I wandered out of the bedroom to crack the front door open again.
‘Let yourself in,’ I called.
‘Sure thing,’ said Vince.
I screamed in terror at the unexpected voice and spun on the spot just as the catch on my bra came free.
Vince’s eyes went wide just as a grin spread across his face.
Buster popped his head between Vince’s legs. ‘I found Vince outside,’ he said helpfully.
Mortified yet again, I darted into my bedroom, holding my chest with both hands while shouting several unladylike things.
‘Shall I shut the door?’ Vince enquired conversationally.
‘Yes, please,’ I growled back. ‘Make sure you are on the outside first though.’
Far from achieving the desired effect, I heard the door shut but his chuckling was clearly coming from inside my cottage.
‘I think I can hear a coffee machine getting excited. ‘I’ll make us a cup each, shall I?’ he asked, then added. ‘Unless, you know, since you are already half naked and flashing the goods around …’
‘One more word, Vince Slater,’ I warned. ‘One more word and I will call the police.’
‘Be sure to ask for Chief Inspector Quinn,’ he sniggered at me. Seconds later, he was whistling a happy tune in my kitchen and I could hear him going through my cupboards in search of food. He was cooing to Amber and … well, let’s just say I was having fantasies about his head and my meat tenderiser.
I took a shower, locking the door and shifting the laundry hamper under the door handle so it wouldn’t open. By the time I came out, the house was filled with the glorious scent of coffee.
And bacon?
Why could I smell bacon?
Wanting to get dressed but too curious now to wait, I wrapped myself in a robe, stuffed my feet in slippers and went to find the unlovable rogue.
‘Your dog likes bacon, doesn’t he?’ Vince observed as I came into the room. He was leaning against the breakfast bar end of the kitchen’s central island. Next to his arm was a plate that was mostly crumbs but had the remaining corner of a toasted bacon sandwich to one side. Loose pieces of bacon were stacked on a separate side plate and one hung from his fingers while Buster danced on his back legs trying to get to it.
Vince dropped it. It fell into the black hole Buster called a mouth and was gone.
‘I made enough for you,’ Vince smiled at me. ‘Your coffee is good too,’ he let me know as he picked up his mug for a slurp.
Amber was on a different counter, not watching the display the dog was putting on as he begged for another piece of glistening meat. She was licking a paw and studying it but looked up to make eye contact with me.
‘This is the one you were mating with?’ she asked. ‘He gave me sardines. I actually … yes, I actually approve. He can move in.’
‘He is not moving in!’ I huffed.
Vince looked up. ‘I’m sorry, what? You want me to move in?’
I narrowed my eyes at the cat. Not that it had any effect.
Buster swallowed another
