Page 33 of The Cul-de-Sac War

“Wait. What?”

He turned around and whistled. “Russ! Who wants to go for a walk?”

Russell jumped up.

Bree’s eyes widened. “No, no. You don’t need to—”

Chip reached down for the dog’s collar. “Now let’s just get this nasty collar off you, buddy. Can’t be going on a walk when it’s trying to zap you.” He gave Russell’s side a hearty rub. “How about we try for some of that free-range walking we talked about, too, huh? You don’t need an old leash holding you back.”

“You keep the leash,” Bree said. “Leashes are good.”

Chip arched his head back to flash her a smile. “You know, Evie is the one who enlightened me about leashes being a form of animal cruelty. Limiting them in their natural habitat—”

“We live in a cul-de-sac, Chip. In a suburb—”

“Denying his primal right to yield to his desire to roam the land—”

“I am his desire. He desires nothing but me.”

Chip winked. “That must feel good. Doesn’t it?”

Bree stiffened.

He wouldn’t do it.

She was sitting on a plastic doughnut. Surely he wouldn’t do it.

Darn him, his hand actually started to slip the shock collar over Russell’s head.

Bree put up a finger. “Now hold on just a minute. Let’s not be so hasty,” she said, pushing herself up. She jutted her chin toward her front porch, then back to the impatient dog. She’d never make it in time. “I can think of loads more to say about Mr. Richardson while you work.”

Chip raised his brow, but the collar kept sliding across the dog’s fur. “I don’t know. It’s been a long day for both of us. You’re tired . . . I’m tired . . .”

“No, really! Loads of stuff.” Russell pawed the grass while Bree bent to snatch up her cushion. “Like . . .” She tried to think. “Like . . . like how he always wears a fedora.”

He lowered his brow. “C’mon, Bree. We both know that’s not news.”

“And he goes everywhere with his wife.”

Russell yelped, then turned his neck as though to yank off the collar himself.

“And . . .” She racked her brain. “And . . .”

And then something surprising happened. Mr. Richardson’s face came to mind along with the last words she heard him speak before she retreated from the gala weeks ago.

Huh.

Well. Well. Well.

A smile crept up her lips.

Bingo.

“Actually,” she said, her voice rising, “as it just so happens, I do know something about the bid. Something important.”

Suddenly Russell knocking her over and officially breaking her tailbone no longer mattered so much. Now, armed with truly valuable information, she felt confident enough to shift her weight to one hip as she crossed her arms without a care in the world.

Chip must’ve known it too, because he started tugging the collar back down, the wry grin on his face melting at her victorious smirk.