Page 58 of The Boyfriend Gamble

Best life ever.

Epilogue

Felix

Poundingatthefrontdoor woke me.

“Too early,” Jacob grumbled. “Saturday morning, no less.”

The sun hadn’t crested the horizon yet, but that meant little this close to Christmas. Dawn always felt elusive.

The pounding continued.

Cujo, our teacup poodle started barking her ferocious little head off. Sparky, the shepherd-cross, bolted for the bathroom and hid in the shower stall.

Par for the course.

“My fault for locking the doors.” I petted Cujo.

“Have to keep the bears out.” He pulled the pillow over his head. My husband was not a morning person.

I tossed off the covers and wrapped my dressing gown around me. I opened Jacob’s arms and shoved Cujo into them.

Instantly, she calmed.

I could do nothing about Sparky, but I’d reassure her later. Finally, I stepped into my eminently practical slippers, then headed to the stairs.

The pounding continued.

Open the door? Yell? Perhaps check the peephole? I found those notoriously challenging and didn’t want to—

“Felix and Jacob, you assholes, wake the fuck up.”

Well, that explained a lot. I raced to the door, flipped the lock, and opened the front door.

The bright motion-sensor lights from the porch illuminated one very wet woman with stringy dark-blonde hair, a soaked overcoat, and flashing blue eyes.

I gazed behind her. “How did you…?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She picked up her rolling suitcase and shoved it at me.

Obligingly, I put it to the side and opened the door wide for her.

She stomped in, her muddy boots leaving a mess on my welcome mat.

Behind her, I shut the front door, quickly scanning to see if I might spot another car or some other explanation of how she’d wound up more than seven miles from town on a rainy Saturday morning.

Nothing.

I locked the door, even though I knew a bear couldn’t operate the handle, and I held out my hand. “Let me take your coat?”

Her glare faltered.

Giving her my warmest smile, I tried again. “Josette, we weren't expecting you." I tried again. "Uh, how are you?"

"Pregnant." She deadpanned as she removed her coat and flung it at me. "And furious. Now get me some decaf coffee. And if a certain gentleman who looks like he could be Romanian royalty arrives, I'm not here. Got it?"

I got it.

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