Frenemies(65)

Linus, all kinds of grumpy after being cooped up in the car, expressed his ire by dawdling across the lawn as I tugged on his leash and hissed at him to hurry. He didn’t even deign to look up at me, he just continued to sniff the bare earth and placidly cock a leg every few feet.

“Hurry up!” Georgia whispered—loudly—from the door she was propping open.

I shivered, shooting nervous glances toward the front entrance through which, at any moment, I expected to see the muscle-man concierge come running with assorted other staff members to apprehend me.

Finally, Linus let me haul him indoors, and Georgia eased the door closed behind us. We grinned at each other as if we’d just completed a covert operation to save the world rather than sneak a mutt into a hotel, and then we started up the stairs in a rush.

“See?” I was definitely feeling smug. “You should have more faith in us. We rule!”

“Hey,” she protested from the step behind me, “in case you haven’t noticed, we have a history of making bad situations terribly and horrifically worse.”

“We’re all grown up now,” I said, even more smug. “You should give us a little more credit.”

Which, naturally, is when it happened.

Georgia, too busy laughing to watch where she was going, tripped over her own feet and crashed into me.

“Ouch!” I cried, and threw my hands out to catch the banister.

But to do that, I had to drop Linus’s leash.

Linus trotted up another step or two, and then paused. He turned.

Our eyes met.

He noticed that no one was holding his leash. He cocked his head to the side.

For the space of one heartbeat, and then another, I stared at my dog. He stared back.

“Good boy,” I murmured, pulling myself upright, never breaking eye contact. “Good, sweet boy. Stay, Linus!”

I swear to God, he smirked at me.

And then he bolted.

“Shit!” I yelped, and threw myself after him.

Everything sped up.

“Linus!” I hissed, tearing after him. He ignored me completely. He galloped up to the third-floor landing and then took off along the hall. I could tell that he was having a merry old time—his tail was waving happily in the air and every now and again he would toss a coy little glance behind him to make sure I stayed close—and out of reach. I was sucking in gulps of air and cursing under my breath.

“I knew I should have gotten a gerbil,” I snarled.

We skidded after him into a small sitting room, tastefully done up in cranberry hues. Georgia crashed into me from behind, tossing me forward into the room.

“Ow!” she cried, grabbing her elbow.

“Block the doorway!” I commanded, righting myself and crouching low. “Whatever you do, don’t let him get past you!”

“What if someone comes?” she hissed.

I couldn’t answer her because all of my attention was focused on Linus. It had obviously just occurred to him that he might be trapped.

He turned to face me, and assumed what I called his vulture position. His body tensed, and his head lowered, as he watched me approach with his canny eyes.

“Sit down,” I told him.

Yeah, right.

“The next time you get a dog,” Georgia complained behind me, “you might consider actually training the damn thing.”

For a moment, I thought Linus might back down. His ears flicked from front to back, and his head cocked just slightly to the right.

“Good boy,” I crooned approvingly. “Sit down, Linus.”

I eased a little bit closer, reached out and down with my hand—

And he took off.

Georgia squealed and jumped at him, smacking into the doorjamb while Linus zoomed through her legs.

“You suck!” I threw at her as she collapsed into a heap in the doorway. I vaulted over her crumpled body and hurled myself down the hall after my dog.

This was the end of the line, I knew.

He was headed straight for the main staircase, which would deliver him directly into the main lobby and deliver us directly out on our collective ear. If I was going to save this situation—and I had to—it had to happen then.

I pumped my arms and legs like some kind of marathon runner and then, just as Linus turned the corner toward the top stair, I dived.

I lunged forward in an all-out dive. My fingers stretched wide—I felt the canvas leash with the tips of them—but Linus danced just out of reach—

SMACK!

I hit the ground in a belly flop and skidded a few feet. I slid directly into what took me a moment to recognize as someone’s feet. I blinked. Familiar-looking black boots with a four-inch heel, polished to gleam. And under the right foot—pinned and immovable—was Linus’s leash. I seized it in both hands, too full of adrenaline and relief to care about the many ways in which I hurt. I would deal with that later.

I thanked the powers that be, and then looked up, ready to kiss the feet in front of me. I was already lying there in position, prostrate and everything.

“Hello, Gus.” Amy Lee peered down at me, and let out a little sigh. “I thought that was you.”





chapter twenty-one





“Oh, terrific!” Georgia said from behind me. Her sarcasm preceded her by about three feet, like a kind of bad smell. It made Amy Lee recoil in the same way. “Look, Gus! Amy Lee is here to judge us!”