Spirited Away

Chapter 2 (#ue380e320-7026-5e2d-8608-d23ccd8d299f)

Chapter 3 (#u3ad9e487-021f-59a2-9cc4-e7c318af31e7)

Chapter 4 (#u196137fd-346e-56f0-8561-eccf1e1f4d16)

Chapter 5 (#ub3c4fac2-06fb-51cf-a5fa-bfd9af845198)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by Angela Campbell … (#litres_trial_promo)

Angela Campbell (#litres_trial_promo)

About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 1 (#u86a3a1d8-1b86-549d-bd3e-80db5b2ceca2)

Oh yeah. She was gonna kill that mutt when she got her hands on him. And the cat too – just because.

Emma “Spider” Fisher rattled the locked doorknob one more time and glared at the animals watching her from the other side of the front window. Costello, the dog, panted happily and gave her a tongue-lolling, open-mouthed grin. Abbott, the cat, stood in the bay-window beside him, watching her with disinterested, narrowed eyes, as if she were the stupidest human he’d ever met – a distinct possibility.

“Ugh!” She rattled the front doorknob again and slapped the doorframe. Yeah, as if that would make it open.

It was the morning after her first night of house-sitting for Zach and Hannah, and she’d already locked herself out. Correction: one of the dogs had escaped the fence, she’d given chase in her jammies, and when she’d ran back to call for help after not being able to catch Charlie, Costello had bumped shut the door she’d left open. Locking her out. Without a key. Without a phone. Without a hope of not being killed by her boss when he returned from his honeymoon.

His beloved blind dog had disappeared after she’d chased him into some trees on the other side of the street. No telling where Charlie was now. God forbid, he could be lying dead on the highway. Might have fallen down a well somewhere. Joined a gang. Who knew?

In fact, who knew a blind dog could run so darn fast to begin with? She’d bet that dog had some cheetah in his genes.

Heaving a half-laugh, half-sob, she turned and slid down the door until her bottom met the cold concrete of the front doorstep. A quick scan of the other houses and manicured lawns lining the quiet subdivision was no comfort. Well, maybe it was. No one seemed to peek out of curtains to witness her humiliating predicament, although she’d have to start pounding on doors soon to see if someone would let her use their phone.

Who would she call? One of the so-hot-they-could-melt-her-panties-off guys she worked with? She groaned.

This could not be happening to her.

A flash of brown movement to her left caught Spider’s attention and sent her heart thumping wildly against her ribcage again.

Charlie was sniffing the grass and following an invisible trail beside the sidewalk in front of the house. Near the freaking road! Uttering a squeak, Spider sprang to her bare feet and hurried down the driveway, muttering “owww” and “ouch” every time she stepped on a rock or something sharp in the grass.

She had a hard-and-fast policy against swearing, but she was seriously reconsidering that rule this morning.

“Charlie!” Her voice carried down the street. She clicked her tongue. “Com’ere boy!”

The dog lifted his head but kept prancing forward as a car came around the curve toward him. Panic seized her chest, releasing its grip only when the vehicle slowed and turned down a side street. The too-smart-for-his-own-good canine perked his ears up and looked in that direction. Ohmygosh, he was blind and following sounds. She had to catch him. She had to. If he got out of the subdivision and found a main road—

She whistled and jumped up and down, hoping the noise would divert his attention. “Charlie!”

He turned and took three slow steps toward her.

“Good boy!” She whistled again and patted the front of her thighs.

The long-legged retriever mix lowered his head, wiggled his raised butt, barked, and darted in the opposite direction.

“No, no, no!” Spider gave chase. “Charlie!”

He thought they were playing a game. Oh, for the love of—!

At least he was running in circles, not straying outside the neighbourhood. She had no idea how long they ran up and down the suburban street lined with a mixture of classic Georgian, English cottages and modern houses. It was mid-morning, and no one had come outside to see what she was causing a ruckus about. Geez. She didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. What kind of neighbours were these?

“Char…Char…Charlie!” Winded, she had to slow down until she was barely moving at all. Hands on her thighs, leaning over, she watched, helpless, as Charlie plowed headfirst into a neighbour’s bushes. Startled, he hunched low and took slow, careful steps around the hedge. His tongue dangled out of his mouth, but otherwise he looked ready to resume his marathon sprint. What the heck did Hannah feed that dog? Crack-cocaine?

One step. Two steps. Spider inched closer. Charlie turned, and she used all of her reserves to leap toward him.

Yes! Their bodies collided, and she rolled with him onto the grass, the forty-pound dog using her as his personal cushion – not that she cared. Not as long as she had a tight grip on him.

She laughed in triumph and then groaned when a wet tongue found her mouth. Ewww! Disgusting. Doggy slobber. So gross.