I narrow my eyes at him and bend down to Snowball. “He doesn’t mean that, Snowball,” I tell her. “He just likes being a jerk. Gets a sick sort of pleasure out of it.”
Landon shoots me a look. “I canhearyou.”
I grin at him, scooping up the dog. “I’m aware! We’ll be upstairs if you need us!”
* * *
When I return home from work on Monday, Snowball is missing. In a blind panic, I search everywhere—the house, the pool, the yard—all the while beating myself up because it’s been one day.One dayand I’ve already fucked up my dog sitting duties.
“I knew this was a bad idea,” I mutter, climbing the stairs.
I shuffle down the hall to Landon’s office, knocking once before shoving inside, only to discover the little white fluffball curled up on his lap, his hand absently stroking her fur as he types away on his computer. Masking my relief, I cross my arms and lean against the doorframe.
“Oh yeah, Landon. Youhatethat dog.” Because despite all his anti-pet babble, I think Landonlikeshaving another living thing he can boss around—a creature that actually listens to him for once.
Landon jumps and turns to glare at me, his hand jerking away from her fur. “Did you need something?” he asks coolly.
“Nothing, really,” I say, refusing to admit that for a second, I thought I lost her. Landon turns back to his computer, and I work up the nerve to ask my next question. We haven’t spoken much since the night of the storm, and what I’m about to suggest is a long shot, but who knows? It might be…fun. “So…the season premiere ofThe Baking Challengeis tonight,” I tell him, doing my best not to fidget, “and I was wondering if you had any interest.”
Landon’s eyes snap back to mine, his expression blank as he considers my question. I wait. I hold my breath. I hope he won’t shoot me down. I scold myself for hoping. “What time?” he asks carefully.
I school my face to hide my excitement that he didn’t immediately decline. “Eight. Thought we could order pizza.”
Landon’s brows pull together. “I can’t eat pizza, remember?”
I can’t help but beam at him, recalling his Domino’s obsession the night he was drugged. “Ah, but you can eatthispizza. Did you know a vegan pizzeria opened right around the corner? All plant-basedandthey have gluten-free options.”
Landon studies me, a strange expression passing across his features. Surprise, maybe? But is he surprised there’s a vegan restaurant or surprised I looked into it? “Okay. I’m in.”
“Really?” I practically squeal.
“Don’t get too excited. It’s contingent on me finishing this work.”
“Oh. Right. Right. I’ll leave you to it then.” I move closer to his desk, reaching for the dog. “I can take Snowball if she’s a distraction.”
“She’s fine,” he says too quickly, and I back away, snickering to myself as I step into the hall. A small part of me—a very stupid part—feels almost…giddy. I usually watch the premiere ofThe Baking Challengeby myself, and it will be nice to have someone to keep me company…even if it is Landon.
Especially if it’s Landon, says a little voice inside my head, one I try hard not to dwell on.
I wait out the next couple of hours in my room, sorting through old recipes and coming up with new ideas, and when the doorbell rings, I frown. Snowball goes into a frenzy, and I hear her nails scratching against the hardwood as she scampers out of the office and down the stairs. Her ear-splitting bark alerts everyone within a five-mile radius of a possible intruder.
Was Parker supposed to stop by?I wonder, but when I glance out the window, Theresa’s station wagon is nowhere to be found. Instead, a pristine, white Mercedes idles in the driveway, and though I don’t recognize the car, I suddenly get a bad feeling.
“Who the fuck is that?” I hear Landon mutter to himself as he follows the dog’s path down the stairs. He wasn’t expecting visitors either.
The front door opens, but I stay in my room.
“Since when do you have a dog?” comes the sickeningly sweet voice of Kathleen Blair. My spine stiffens, and a pit forms in my stomach because there’s no one I’d rather see less than Landon’s mother. Creeping out into the hall, I eavesdrop on their conversation over the mezzanine, a habit I’m finding hard to kick.
“Mom,” Landon says, his tone flat. “What a surprise.”
“I know, sweetheart,” she drawls. “Penny and I were out and about when I realized we were driving through your area.”Penny.I frown as I recall the gorgeous, scantily clad blonde insistent on “helping” Landon the night of the gala. “I thought we’d stop by and show Penny your fantastic home. She’s an interior designer and an impeccable one at that. Who better than her to offer tips on redecorating, especially since you gave up so much of your furniture to thatwoman?”
“Now isn’t a good time,” Landon snaps, his tone impatient. “I have a lot of work to do.”
“Nonsense.” She waves him off. “Work can wait. Don’t be rude.”
“Hi, Landon.” Penny’s high-pitched voice is like nails on a chalkboard, and I peek through the railing to witness their interaction. “You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”
