Page 7 of Venomous as a Snake

“Got it,” I mumble. “We aren’t going anywhere for a while.”

I won’t get my hopes up, though.

The whole window incident is just my imagination playing tricks on my bored mind and lonely heart.

I abandon thoughts of my lost mate as I focus on my second goal: staying the fuck away from Clay.

* * *

I barely have the bay door open when Ali turns into my driveway. He pulls his truck into the oversized garage, and I scrutinize the precision of his parking. If he hits my car, we’re going to fight.

But he doesn’t, so he gets a pass.

Before Ali can climb out of his truck, my dog lunges across his center console. Ninety pounds of muscle and white fur rushes for me, bouncing in greeting as his deep bark reverberates around the near empty garage.

Ali drapes his arm over my shoulder, speaking as we walk inside the house. “Drew said that Hooker is an asshole. He sent your pets with me, because they don’t listen for shit. Please get that fucking cat out of my truck.”

Hooker is my dog’s name. Why? Well, I once had a friend whose roommate had a dog named Hooker, and I thought it was wonderfully inappropriate. It was a natural choice when I picked out the most handsome and flirty stud in the litter.

“You didn’t put him in a carrier?” I ask, grinning at the surly man as I pet Hooker.

My cat is… a shit-starting menace. And even that is a vast understatement.

“I didn’t know there was a cat carrier big enough for him. Drew threw him in the cab and cackled like a lunatic.” Ali leans his head back to glare at my ceiling. “He’s a fucking dick, and that giant ass cat has somehow squished himself halfway under the passenger seat. How? No clue.”

I nod my head in agreement. Drew is a dick for that.

“Where is Carol?”

“Why Carol? That’s such an unassuming name,” Ali fusses for the fourth time this week. “It’s weird, Kody. Weirder than the other names.”

He drops his arm from my shoulder and disappears into the garage. I set out the food and water bowls, but Hooker is too busy sniffing around to care about a meal. A truck door shuts, and quiet footsteps stop behind me as a blue plastic, zip tied tub slides onto my kitchen counter.

It’s like they think the snake inside is as venomous as I am.

“Do you have her tank set up?”

“He doesn’t live in a tank, Ali,” I gripe. “He isn’t a goldfish. You know this. We’ve had—”

“Whatever the fuck it is…” He trails off, grimacing. “It stinks.”

“He musked.”

Ali begins to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. “Don’t care. Between the three assholes you surround yourself with, my truck reeks of dirty animals.”

“Well…” I shrug. “They weren’t dirty when I left them with you and Drew last week. And I’m trading you three dicks for two. These rats need to go back to where they came from.”

“Where would that be?” he muses.

I tilt my chin down, giving him a pissy expression.

He nods to himself as if he already knows. “You finally snapped on the babysitters?”

“I didn’t snap so much as I drugged them,” I admit.

He snorts. “You bite them?”

“No,” I flippantly state, adjusting my ponytail. “I fed them cookies.”