Page 26 of Her Billionaire Bargain (Kensington Square)

“No more carpeting, Bob,” I said around the duster clamped between my teeth. “Hardwoods all the way. Far easier to keep clean.”

He just stared at me dubiously. Then I took him out for one final nightly pee and gave him the last of his kibble for dinner. One more thing for my To Do list. It was looking like Santa’s gift list at this point, unfurling down the street.

Last I remembered, I’d been on my hands and knees tugging unknown items out from under the sofa where someone had shoved them. Or more likely, multiple someones.

No more parties. Ever.

I woke face down on the floor in my living room with a tongue against my cheek. For an instant, hope bloomed that a certain smart-mouthed woman who’d showed up in my dreams was willing to soothe all that ailed me.

Then a blast of truly foul breath wafted over my face and I rolled onto my back, throwing my hands up in a defensive move that just made Bob think we were playing. He thrust his considerable bulk onto my belly, his claws digging into my skin as I howled.

Which was how I then got his tongue in my mouth.

French-kissed by a pudgy pug was not the way I wanted to start my morning.

I rolled to my knees and begged Siri for the time. Eleven-eighteen am.

Or…my almost afternoon.

Neither was looking up, and coming face-to-face—or face-to-knee—with the smug expression of my older brother, who’d crossed his ankle onto his opposite knee and steepled his fingers over his stomach while he watched the show.

I rolled back onto the rug and allowed Bob to attack me without putting up a fight.

My brother’s black brow winged up before he spoke. “I’d ask you how you are, but I’d say the results speak for themselves.” He gestured vaguely to my position on the floor.

Knowing he assumed I was loaded pissed me off enough I just grunted and flipped him off.

“He’s out of kibble,” a deep voice called from the kitchen, to which Bob let out a sharp bark in disgust.

Or maybe alarm. Bob’s moods weren’t always distinguishable.

I closed my eyes and swallowed a groan. “Check to see if there’s a spare bag in the bottom cabinet,” I called back. I was pretty sure I’d used that up too but hope sprang eternal. “Who let you people in here?” I asked no one in particular.

“The door was unlocked, but you gave me a key.”

“And Bishop? He has a pass too apparently?”

“He pretty much goes where I go.”

“Does your girlfriend know you’re now conjoined?”

“What makes you think she minds?”

I pressed a hand to my muzzy head. I was too fucking old to sleep on the floor. “Too kinky this early in the morning, pal.”

“It’s halfway to dinnertime.”

“Yeah, if you’re rolling up to the senior’s early bird special at the Denny’s down the road.”

Bishop appeared in the doorway and moved down the steps into the sunken living room with more energy than I could’ve summoned if I tried. “No kibble there either.” He frowned. “Hey, does that Pac Man pinball machine work?”

I knew it did because I’d gotten the bright idea to play with it last night before I hauled it in here to get it out of my office. Why? Why did any man do what he did when it was four am and he was bleary-eyed and trying to makeover his life?

A question for the ages.

Bob let out a pitiful whine.

I forced myself up into a sitting position and waited for the room to come into sharper focus. It had to eventually, right?

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