Page 4 of Doggy Style

I pull over and find parking. Once I walk over to the shop, I peer into the window.

Puppies.

Puppies everywhere.

Pug puppies panting, goldendoodles gallivanting, British bulldogs barking.

Next week, the residents of Huntington Beach will be snatching up these puppies. Meanwhile, I can’t find a single new foster family and have twenty dogs in the rescue who desperately need forever homes.

I close my eyes as hard as I can as if my eyelids can prevent the tears that I’m about to shed. But it doesn’t work as I feel my skin become damp with my sadness. This guy is going to capitalize on his fifteen minutes of fame by selling puppies while hundreds of sweet, older dogs will die. Like that poor Chi. I don’t have a place for her. I can’t save her. I can’t save them all. Gidget will be murdered when she is dropped off at the shelter. Her crime—not having a family.

My chest constricts. I know her pain—for I don’t have a family either.

I force myself to open up my eyes. As I wipe my tears, I see someone walk toward the back of the store. A tall, dark, handsome figure who I recognize immediately.

My chest constricts—Preston Evans is inside.

I should smash in the window. That would get his attention.

But that would also get me thrown in jail.

Hmm. I ponder my options for a bit—then it hits me.

I return to my car, open the passenger door, and pop open my glove box, retrieving a pair of pink, fuzzy handcuffs. My ex and I had been into some light bondage. He had given me back my stuff the other week, and I have been too busy to clean out my car.

And now these restraints will serve a higher purpose.

I grab the cuffs, a bottle of water, plus my purse, and walk back to the store.

I take a deep breath and clamp the cold metal against my wrist, the familiar tightness causing my heart to race. I lock the other end of the cuffs and place it on the door handle. The clink of metal against the steel exhilarates me as the handcuffs give one click of finality.

Preston Evans will not open his store.

He’ll have to get through me first.

And I’m not going to go down without a dogfight.