“What?”
“Maybe I can come check it out,” Thad said, doing a purposely exaggerated imitation of Von’s voice.
He shrugged. “I like dogs.”
He said it with a straight face, as if he hadn’t just called Thad to come and get Puddin’.
“Just because I’m not a fan ofthatdog, it doesn’t mean I don’t like dogs,” Von said, doing that annoying mind-reading shit again. He pointed to Puddin’, who still looked longingly at the door his best friend had just exited. “Speaking of that one, you should really think about bringing him back to doggy daycare during the day. He’s getting in the way here, and it will only get worse once demo starts. Last thing you want is for your grandmother to disown you because a wood beam crushed her poodle’s skull.”
“Puddin’s head is too hard to get crushed,” he answered, even though he knew Von was right. He wasn’t looking forward to suffering through what he now knew would be unrequited attraction every time he saw Ashanti, but he was good at masking his feelings. She would never know the difference.
“I’ll think about it.” Thad handed him the broom. “Let’s get back to work.”
9
Ashanti felt as if she were wearing leaden cross-trainers as she trudged up the steps to Barkingham Palace. Mrs. Short stood outside with her watering can, tending to the marigolds in the window boxes in front of the house. Ashanti contemplated speaking, but only for a second before deciding against it. She was not up for a confrontation, especially now that it looked as if she and this curmudgeon would be neighbors a lot longer than she was expecting.
She brought her hand to her stomach to stave off the nausea.
She could not believe she’d allowed this to happen. That house was supposed to be hers. She had already mapped out the floor plan. The pet suites were going to be three square feet larger, and there was even room to do two queen suites, big enough for families with multiple dogs or one very spoiled one.
And, just like that, it was gone. She was stuck in a building her business had outgrown. There was only one other house in this entire city that even remotely fit the bill—her dream location—and Ashanti knew she wouldn’t be able to afford it even if it miraculously went up for sale. Not with twin sisters to put through college and the overhead of running this place.
She entered the daycare and stopped short. Deja, Ridley, Evie, Leslie, and Mark were all standing in the reception area, facing the door as if they expected Ed McMahon’s ghost to come in with a check for five million dollars.
Mark was the first to speak. “Thank God,” he said, making the sign of the cross. “You didn’t get yourself arrested. Unless they allowed you to come back to get your purse. Do cops do that?”
“I did not get arrested. Don’t be ridiculous,” Ashanti said.
“Good. I can go back to work now.” He gathered her in a hug and added an extra squeeze.
The phone rang, sending Deja running to the reception desk. Ridley and Evie continued staring at her with guarded looks, as if they were waiting for her to spontaneously combust at any moment.
Or to burst out crying. Which was highly likely.
“So, did someone really buy the house?” Evie asked.
Ashanti nodded. The sudden lump that had formed in her throat made it difficult to speak.
“I knew it,” Ridley said.
“Not now, Rid,” Evie said.
“Well, she’s right,” Ashanti said. “I didn’t believe someone had bought the house even after Ridley told me. And you would never guess who bought it,” she called to Deja.
The receptionist held up a finger, then after a moment hung up the phone and said, “Who?”
“Mrs. Sutherland’s grandson.”
“The hottie?”
“Who’s a hottie?” Ridley asked.
“Girl! You should have seen him!” Deja said, rounding the reception desk and returning to where they all stood.
“Mrs. Sutherland is Puddin’s owner, right?” Evie asked. “He’s sweet on Duchess. They’re the cutest.”
“If you thinkthey’recute, you should see her grandson.” Deja pumped up her arm. “Muscles, face, voice. Baybee, he ain’t missing none of them. Got it all, you hear me?”
