Page 2 of Double Obsession

Was the kidnapped cat in question the Persian who liked to crawl onto her workspace and squawk? Because that particular brat was ungrateful and had an attitude.

Once she was in the kitchen, she rummaged in the cupboard for her new prescriptions from her newest doctor. The man had beady eyes and no matter what Jesus said, she was never going to his office again. She poured the bottles into the sink.

Grrrrrring! The garbage disposal ground the capsules into dust.

She retrieved her knife from the dish rack and dried it until it shined. Lifting it high, she smiled.

Swish!With her left foot forward, she sliced the air.Swish!The knife traced a large X.

Unfortunately, her swordplay felt off. Frowning, she sat at her work area. She puffed away, but her coffee was too cold to drink. Tepid coffee made her so angry she wanted to stab something; perhaps after she checked her DMs.

Her fingers clicked on the keys until she found her favorite author’s page. “Bitch!” she yelled.

Peering up at her grandmother’s plastic Jesus hanging beside the kitchen window, Arkansas made the sign of the cross. “Sorry, I said a bad word.” Although she had scratched out Jesus’ eyes to protect him from the filth on social media, she hadn’t destroyed his ears. He was such a good listener.

She tapped out a message before scribing the date and another note in her journal:Jenna Gibson: She still has not responded to my messages. I love her, and I will stand by her, but why isn't she writing about William Chester? He is by far the best Duke.

This time when fur brushed her arm, she’d had enough. She grabbed the knife andSwish!

The cat leaped from the table.Hiss!He stood in the doorway, his fangs extended as if he were a rabid racoon.

“Hiss,” Arkansas snarled back between clenched teeth. The unlovable feline would no longer outmaneuver her now that her pills were in the sewer.

Her shoulders popped and her knees creaked as she pushed herself to standing. Then she skulked toward her retreating enemy.

Chapter Two

Jenna wasn’t clueless. A divorcee frying eggs in a pit-stained t-shirt while also scrubbing eighteen-hour-old spaghetti sauce off a highchair learns to choose her battles. As usual, her eight-year-old son, Ethan, was waiting until her back was turned to lodge a Toasty-O in his baby sister’s nose. It wasn’t the first time—or even the fifth—that he’d pulled the nasty stunt.

Ethan’s index finger and thumb flew the food past his sister’s wide-open mouth. “Zoom, zoom. It’s a big airplane. Zoom!”

Jenna cringed. How could her son look so angelic when he did devilish things? Although she didn’t address his shenanigans, Jenna damn well knew Ethan’s intentions. However, she was preoccupied with the fifteen-year-old wearing a bra as a shirt while trying to sneak out the front door.

“Kylie, get back here,” Jenna called.

“Airplanes are very fast. Zoom,” Ethan told Lisa.

“Zzzz,”Lisa gurgled between giggles.

“Kylie? I’m talking to you. Get back here, now!” Jenna stood hands on hips, a dirty dishrag smearing gunk on her leggings, her gaze focused on her daughter in the hallway. Fantasies about tossing a thousand-dollar smartphone and a pair of earbuds into the toilet only slightly eased her temper.

Eyes rolling, shoulders pulled back in defiance, Kylie took her time walking into the kitchen. She leaned against the wall, pushing her hip out. Four feet of her five-foot, six-inch frame was exposed skin, and her stick-skinny body hovered on stiletto ankle-high boots.

Jenna’s jaw clenched as she tempered her anger. “Take out your earbuds!”

Kylie stuck her chin into the air and took her time removing the little white pods.

Don’t swear. Don’t swear, had become Jenna’s newest mantra. “And get back upstairs and find the rest of that outfit.”

Kylie’s chin lifted higher. “It’ll be your fault if I’m late for school and get detention.”

A volcanic heat rushed up Jenna’s spine.

“And why are you being such a bitch? Aunt Stacie told me I look cute in this outfit.”

Her younger sister may have had questionable taste in her own nightclubbing outfits, but she would never encourage her teenage niece to dress like a ho-bag—would she?

“I’m not falling for your bull. Your aunt wouldn’t approve of that outfit for school,” Jenna declared with about seventy percent certainty.