Ally was glued to the passenger side window, as far away from me as possible. I snagged an open parking spot just down the block and shut off the engine. She swung away from the window and glared at me, her jaw set in a tight line.
The fact that she was pissed off at me pissed me off even more.
“Don’t give me that look. I’m the one who’s mad,” I said, stabbing my thumb in my chest. “We don’t get to both be mad.”
“You kidnapped me!”
“You’re an adult. It’s called abduction. And you tried to turn my foot into a kebab with your footwear weaponry,” I snapped, getting out of the car. Stubbornly, she stayed put inside until I yanked her door open. “Out. Now.”
“Where are we?” she asked, still not moving.
I half pulled, half dragged her off the seat and held her steady when she wobbled on those ridiculous heels.
“My neighborhood.”
She swung her head around. “Where are the soulless skyscrapers and creepy dungeons? This is a neighborhood. You know, where actual people live.”
“Very funny.” I took her arm and none too gently propelled her down the sidewalk.
“If you seriously live here, your neighbors are going to think you brought a prostitute home,” she hissed. She looked more concerned about my reputation than hers.
I realized then that I was never going to understand this woman.
She was limping now, and I was torn between parading her around the block a few times so she’d learn her lesson and getting her inside as quickly as possible.
She tripped and yelped and made the decision for me. I scooped her up in my arms and marched toward my townhouse. She went completely rigid against me. “You can’t carry me around like a bride,” she insisted.
“Yeah, well, a few hours ago, I would have said you couldn’t jack me off in a strip club. I guess we’re both wrong.”
I took the steps to my front door and set her down more gently than I felt like doing.
Patting my pockets for my keys, I realized they were in my coat. I shoved my hands in her pockets. “Hey! No touching,” Ally snapped.
“I think it’s a little late for that,” I said dryly.
“Bite me.”
I found the keys and unlocked the door and pulled her into the foyer vestibule room thing that my real estate agent had been so excited about when I bought the place five years ago. “You can leave at any time, but if you try to go before we’re done talking, I’ll just keep bringing you back,” I warned her.
“This is beyond fucked up,” she said, crossing her arms. My coat billowed around her like a cape, enveloping her. She was raining body glitter on the black and white tile. Hell. So was I. The cleaning crew was going to think I’d either hosted a Girl Scouts craft jamboree or an orgy.
“At least we both agree on that.” I took my coat off her and hung it in the closet. I left her coat on, knowing there was very little beneath it.
There was a sad whine coming from behind the main door.
“Is that another exotic dancer you kidnapped?” she snipped.
“I’m starting a harem,” I said and then opened the door.
Sixty pounds of chocolate lab rocketed into my arms. Brownie—hey, he came with the name, okay?—and I were still getting to know each other, and I was still trying to figure out dog discipline.
“Oh my God, you kidnapped a dog too.”
I put Brownie down and gave him a full-body scruffing before smushing his face and kissing the top of his head. This was the best unanticipated part of spontaneously adopting a dog. The greeting after a long day. Brownie didn’t care if I abducted an employee. He still loved me.
“I didn’t kidnap him, idiot. I adopted him.”
My dog trotted over to her, oblivious to the tension. He wagged his tail and gave a happy bark.
“Shut up, Brownie. It’s after one a.m. You’ll wake the neighbors.”
Ally sank down to greet him.
“Who’s the most handsome boy in the world? Did you get adopted? Did you?”
His tail was a blur of happiness.
“Come on,” I said, gesturing toward the main door. “And take off those stupid shoes.”
“Fine. But I’m only doing it because I think I lost a few toenails, not because you told me,” she said. Her groan when she slipped them off was sinful enough that the situation in my pants became a more complicated matter.
I kept my shoes on—in case she tried to make a barefoot run for it—and headed into the house.
Either curiosity or the need to finally hash this all out propelled her in behind me.
“Wow,” she said.
“What?”
She gestured around the hall, the stairs. Off to the right was a den with a fireplace and wood-paneled walls. “I didn’t expect this. I just assumed you lived in some…”
“Soulless high-rise with a dungeon?”
She shrugged.
“Yeah, well, I assumed you were financially responsible enough to not have to take your clothes off for strangers,” I shot back.
“Why do you even care, Dom? I don’t understand. I mean, talk about mixed messages. You say you don’t want me—”
“Correction. I don’t want to want you.”
“You are such an ass. You don’t want to want me, yet you eavesdrop on a private call, follow me to a strip club, and hire me to do a private dance. And then get so angry you abduct me and take me home with you.”
“Wrong. I was angry before I got to the club,” I shot back.
“I’m not yours to care about, Dom.”
I snapped my fingers for Brownie, and he followed me into the kitchen.
Ally came along at a more leisurely pace. I fished out a treat from the puppy jar Greta got me and made Brownie sit. It was the one command we’d both mastered. “Take it nicely, buddy. Do not take my hand off,” I said, holding the paw-shaped cookie high.
But Brownie had that single-minded gleam in his eye. He nearly swallowed my entire hand. “Okay, we need to work on that.”
Ally sighed like a good little martyr and stomped over to the jar. “Here,” she said. She demonstrated holding the treat in a closed fist with part of it peeking out over her thumb. “Sit,” she told Brownie.
He plopped his ass on the floor, thrilled at the prospect of two cookies.
“Nicely,” Ally warned him. When he made an excited alligator lunge, she pulled back. “Uh-uh. Nice boy.”
This time, she held her hand out, and Brownie carefully extracted the treat from her fist.
“Good boy!” she cheered. Brownie snarfed it down and dissolved into happy wiggles at the praise. She turned back to me smugly. “What? I had dogs growing up. I’d offer to help you with him, but I hate you.”
Yes. There was that.
“Come on,” I said wearily.
“Where?”
“Upstairs so I can get out of these fucking pants.”
“We’re not having sex,” she said, looking appalled.
I brought my hands to my face and shoved them through my hair. “You are driving me in-fucking-sane, Ally. I just want to talk, but I need to get out of these pants.”
“Why do I have to go with you?”
“Because the second I turn my back on you, you’re going to make a run for it. And it’s cold, and I’m tired, and I don’t want to have to chase you down the block in the middle of the night.”