Page 97 of Better Luck Next Time

It was then Finn realized that some of the looks might not be because of their outfits. He hadn’t outpaced Adalia yet, which made it look like she was running and he was chasing. Adalia seemed to figure it out too because she was laughing harder, the sound drifting back to him.

They made it back to the car, breathless, and she panted out, “We’d better go… She’s totally going to call the cops this time.”

A uniformed police officer walked past them, hurrying off to destinations unknown, or possibly to the woman with the dyed hair, and Finn and Adalia exchanged a look. He unlocked the car, and she bit her lip when she heard the click, as if trying to suppress yet more laughter.

They climbed into the car all casual like—nothing to see here, officer—and then exchanged another look, grinning. And oh God, he couldn’t ruin the moment by asking her something that would upset her. Not now. Not yet.

“Go,” she said, and he didn’t make her say it again.

They were quiet on the way back to his house, but every so often he looked over, and whenever he did, she was staring at him, lips parted, eyes full of wanting. And oh, how he wanted her. It had never been like this.

Then she slowly slid the blindfold out of her fanny pack and slipped it into place, tying it behind her head.

“Adalia,” he said, his voice coming out so husky it sounded like a stranger’s.

“I’m a big believer in finishing what you started, Finn,” she said.

He sped the rest of the way home and parked in the drive.

“I do believe it’s time for you to show me to your bedroom, Mr. Hamilton,” she said, slipping into the British accent she pulled off all too well.

He opened the door so fast it nearly hit the almost-but-not-quite-dead shrub by the driveway, and he was circling around the car to open her door when he saw a familiar figure loping down the street. No, make that two. A small black figure preceded the much larger rusty-red and white figure.

“Jezebel?” he asked, baffled. “Tyrion?”

Adalia must have heard her dog’s name through the window, because she immediately exited the car, the blindfold hanging loose around her neck.

“Tyrion,” she shouted, running after him. The dog turned as soon as he heard her call his name, but he didn’t race back to them. He whined and glanced up ahead at Jezebel, who was still prancing jauntily forward. The sleek black cat slowed at the sound of his whine and glanced back, hair bristling a little at the sight of them. But she stopped.

“Does she think he’s her dog?” Finn said in an undertone.

“Shhh,” she said, pressing a finger to her lips. “It sounds crazy, but I suspect they’re working something out.”

More whining followed, answered by a couple of meows and shrieks, and then Tyrion bustled up to Adalia, tail wagging, as if he were a child who’d been given permission. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him with abandon, and Finn felt it down to his heart.

“What are we going to do about Jezebel?” he asked, really hoping she didn’t expect him to tackle her.

“Let’s see if she follows,” Adalia said.

It seemed highly unlikely to him—when had that cat ever followed anyone, even Beau?—but Adalia had her hand on Tyrion’s collar, so they weren’t likely to lose him, anyway. And Jezebel…well, she’d shown she could very easily survive on her own when she had a mind to. If she stayed out, she’d come back, lured by sardines and crystals.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s give it a try.”

They headed back toward his house, and sure enough, Jezebel trailed behind them, making a big production of every footstep, as if she were being dragged against her will. But she came, nonetheless.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “Thank God you saw them when you did. I wonder how they got out in the first place. It’s only three thirty. I guess Jack might have come back home to let them out, but it’s strange that he didn’t call.”

“You can check your messages when we get inside,” he said. Which was when he realized that she might not want to come inside anymore. She would probably want to bring them home. “If you still want to come inside,” he amended.

“You’d be okay with me bringing them in?” Adalia asked, her tone dubious. “Jezebel is like a poltergeist—she might never leave. And Tyrion sheds enough fur to make a coat. Your house is much too nice to be covered in fur.”

“Yeah, I’m okay with it. More than okay.” Besides, if they continued seeing each other, Tyrion would be spending plenty of time at his house. He knew Adalia wouldn’t want to leave him on his own for any length of time, especially after this.

“I know this wasn’t what we were planning…” she started as they reached the house.

“No, but life has a way of keeping things interesting for us,” he said. They stopped in front of the door. “I’ve taken in a foster for Maisie before. I have a water bowl in the closet, plus there’s some meat in the fridge and a few tins of sardines for Jezebel.”

---