Page 29 of Falling for the Enemy

He reviewed the paperwork. “The cost covers the veterinarian fees, vaccinations, microchipping, and neutering surgery, so it goes by weight. He could be yours for four hundred dollars.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, there’s the ongoing expense of caring for him.”

He had no idea what dogs cost, but he assumed an animal like King would be around ten grand, not four hundred. It seemed even crueler to walk away now when they were practically giving the dog away.

King nudged his hand when it stopped scratching, and Soren continued to pet his ears.

“He seems to really like you.”

“All right, all right,” Soren pulled back his hand and waved away the flattery. “Let’s just take a minute to get a grip on reality again. I didn’t come here to buy a dog.”

“Adopt. You’d be saving a life.”

“What do they pay you to say shit like that?”

“I’m a volunteer. I don’t get paid.”

Soren gave the kid a side glance. “Well, you’re good at this.”

“So…is that a yes?”

He was really working him. “You get some sort of commission?”

“No, just the sense of a job well done.”

Soren rolled his eyes as the weight of guilt doubled, cursing under his breath. He could not have a dog. He had no idea what to do with one. And a dog this size would be more like living with a horse.

He looked back at King, attempting to glare at the animal and failing miserably when the dog once again looked up at him with those soulful eyes.

“Jesus.” Soren twirled a finger in the air. “Wrap him up.”

A victorious smile spread across the kid’s face as he rushed to get a leash and the necessary paperwork. Ten minutes later, Soren was attached to a hundred-and-sixty-two-pound sack of fur and holding a doggy bag full of instructions.

“What the hell did I just do?”

King panted happily at his hip.

“First pair of leather-soled shoes you eat, and it’s off to the sausage factory with you, understand?”

King closed his mouth and whimpered.

“Shit. Do you understand?” He gave him a reaffirming scratch behind the ear. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Um, please tell me you’re just holding that for someone.”

Soren winced, then slowly turned to face Jocelyn. “Hey.”

Her eyes dropped to the doggy bag in his hand, drifted to King, then returned to Soren’s face. “Did you adopt a horse?”

He gestured to the dog. “This is King. And I’ll have you know, he’s a purebred Great Dane pedigree—unlike that psychotic rodent you own.”

She scoffed. “Cordelia is a beautiful angel. How dare you?”

Just then, Cordelia’s yapping bark spiked from a distance.

Soren arched a brow. “I believe your angel is singing.” He cupped a hand to his ear. “Yup. Sounds just like harps playing.”