Page 80 of Falling for the Enemy

The dog looked up at his master and back to Cordelia, choosing to lower his enormous muzzle and wait until she gave him permission.

Soren, offended on the dog’s behalf, tried to nudge Cordelia back, but the chihuahua snapped at him. “Don’t let her boss you around. Eat.”

Jocelyn snicked her tongue against her teeth. “Aw, such a beta. Like father like son.”

Soren scowled. “He can’t be afraid of her.”

“Maybe he’s trying to impress her. This could be his champagne wall.”

He shook his head. “You’re brutal.” Leaving them to figure out the food pyramid for themselves, he said, “If you let her bully you now, she’ll never stop. Trust me.”

When he passed the bowl, Cordelia looked up at him and growled, then stole a hunk of kibble and skittered away like a scavenging coyote.

“Where’s she going?”

“Little dogs do that.”

King rose and followed her into the other room.

“King, come back. You have a whole bowl here.”

Jocelyn chuckled and went to the foyer to pick a bottle from the fancy wall. As she searched for an attractive label, Cordelia trotted back to the kitchen, her nails ticking over the Italian tile as King dutifully trotted after her.

“I have to run out to the car. I bought King some new toys.”

“Okay.”

“Relax and make yourself at home.”

A little hard to do in this granite-and-glass, not-so-relaxing place, she thought. “‘Kay.”

If he planned to have kids here, his decorating was in for some changes.

Cordelia slinked by with another giant piece of kibble, and King followed. Soren returned with a knitted basket on one arm and a bulging bag of plush dog toys on the other.

Jocelyn selected a label with a big S on the front that reminded her of the Shrek logo. “Salon Le Mesnil Blanc de Blancs,” she read, butchering the French. “Is that a good brand?”

“Crack it open and find out.” One by one, he tore the tags from the toys and stuffed them into the basket.

Jocelyn peeled back the foil and twisted the wire casing around the cork. It loosened with an exciting pop that made her giggle. Fizzy vapor spilled into the air with a soft hiss.

“I’ll get two glasses.”

“Mmm,” she said, already taking a sip. “Good idea.”

“How is it?” He held out a champagne flute as she poured, then set it aside so she could fill the next one.

“Tart like green apples and lemons, but also refreshing.”

He handed her a glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” She clanked her glass to his. “Where do you buy a bottle like this?”

“You don’t. Salon is only produced about three times in a decade, so it’s very rare. You can’t just walk into a wine and spirits shop and buy it. It has to be allocated through connections.”

“Allocated?”

“Mm-hm.” He took a sip. “This was gifted to me by the board when I took over Hawthorne as CEO.”