Page 91 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“I’ll say it one more time,” I shout, rolling my shoulders as I prepare for the inevitable. “I have a gun. Go away now, or I’ll shoot!”
But instead of an answer, the door bursts open, nearly tearing off its hinges from the pressure of Jay kicking it in. He looks feral: bloodshot eyes, wild movements, and anger seeping from his every pore. I’m not sure what he’s on, but the guy is not sober.
“He kicked down the door, Erik. Please hurry,” I hear Nic whisper behind me, and I breathe a quick sigh of relief. My brain had gone straight to defense mode—I hadn’t even thought of calling the police.
“Stay right where you are!” I warn Jay, aiming the gun at him, but he shakes his head, taking a step toward us.
“I’m not leaving without what I deserve!”
I’m not even sure what his plan is. He doesn’t have a weapon, only lifting his hands as if he’s about to challenge me to a boxing fight. I bet this whole thing made a lot more sense in his head.
“Well, you’re not taking anything from here,” I snap, aiming straight at his groin, hoping that will stop him, but apparently, he’s not overly concerned about his reproduction possibilities. What the hell? You’d think a guy would be somewhat protective of his dick.
Jensen is about to snap, growling and baring his teeth at the intruder.
“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do!” Jay snarls, stumbling closer. “You fucking hillbilly son of a bitch!”
He grabs a vase blindly, weighing it in his hand to gauge its weapon-potential. Before I can act, he lifts it to throw it at me—and that’s when Jensen launches. One loud bark, and then within the blink of an eye, his teeth are buried in Jay’s arm.
“What the fuck?” Jay screams, surprised and in pain, staggering backward as Jensen refuses to let go. Did he seriously not see the big, snarling husky right in front of him?
“Get your fucking dog off me!” he shouts, letting the vase fall to the ground, where it shatters into thankfully big pieces and waves his arm, trying to shake Jensen off. But it only makes him bite harder. “This fucking hurts!”
“Why would I call him off?” I reply calmly, ever so slightly lowering the gun, silently relieved that I won’t have a human life on my conscience today. And because my aim is really not the best.
“You said they weren’t home!” a second voice snaps, and that’s when I realize that Marissa is there, too, peeking around the broken doorframe with horror once she spots all the blood.
“Get your dog off me!” Jay whines, a stream of blood running down his arm. “He’s going to tear my arm off!” I know this situation is serious and all that, but that almost makes me grin.Does he think dogs tear off limbs like alligators? God, I wish they did.
“Why do you always mess things up?” Marissa continues to curse at him. “Get out of my way, you idiot,” Marissa snarls, trying to push past him, and trudges inside as if she owns the place.
I lift the gun again, about to tell her to get the fuck out, when I notice a warm presence next to me.
“Get out,” Nic says coldly and steps up next to me, arms crossed in front of her chest. “We’re armed. You’re trespassing. And I think you underestimate how happy it would make me if Henry shot you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Marissa says, with that same venomous smile she wore on stage at the autumn fair. Yet there’s a tinge of desperation in her voice. “You have no idea what you—oh my God!”
Cinnamon—sweet, tiny, usually lazy Cinnamon—hascannonballedonto Marissa, claws extended as she digs them into her skin, scratching up her arms and Chanel shirt.
“This is awesome,” Nic whispers, and I can only nod. The spectacle could be right out of a cartoon. “This has mad ‘mob tries to kill the beast, and the furniture attacks them’ vibes,” she continues, clearly reading my mind and I chuckle.
“The live-action one though,” I point out, making her giggle. I watch Marissa and Jay, ready to step in if they manage to grab one of the animals. But before they can do anything but whine and shout, the flicker of police lights appears in Nic’s driveway.
“Oh, thank God,” Nic whispers, and I finally lower the weapon completely, putting it on the ground in front of us.
“Henry, call off Jensen!” Erik shouts from his car, clearly fighting off his amusement at the scene.
I whistle sharply, and almost instantly, Jensen releases his grip, trotting over to me with blood on his chin and a proud smile.He’s earned a pile of treats. I never trained him to attack, but he knows that whistle meansstop everything.
Thank God he obeyed.
“Nic, would you mind getting your cat?” Erik asks, the corner of his mouth twitching as he radios for EMTs. Nic steps closer to Marissa, catching a scratch or two herself as she pulls Cinnamon off. As soon as Cinnamon realizes the attack has ended, she wriggles out of Nic’s hold and darts into the living room.
“I assume they were trespassing?” Erik asks, and Nic nods immediately. I brush past them to carry Jensen over the spot where the vase broke. I don’t want to risk him getting any small shards in his paws.
“Yes.”
His eyes flick to the busted lock. “Destruction of property?”
