Read Online Love Potion #9 by Claire Delacroix - Free Book Online
Authors: Claire Delacroix
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amidst the dew-encrusted sunflowers.
Having everything make sense was little consolation right now.
âCooley! Be quiet!â Mitch darted barefoot across the yard. He quickly discovered that the dandelions were mixed with a healthy crop of thistles. Mitch cursed and picked a thorn out of his toe, hopping closer to the barking dog.
Heâd certainly had better mornings.
The cat watched Mitch from its perch on the fence, its tail waving as though it taunted him to come and shoo it away. Something in its expression was eerily assessing. Then the cat looked down at Cooley and hissed in open antagonism.
The dog went wild.
Cooley barked and jumped on the fence, thoroughly ignoring Mitchâs commands for silence or sitting. The wolfhoundâs considerable weight made the fence wobble dangerously. Mitch realized with horror just how old that fence was and saw what was going to happen.
Right before it did.
âCooley! No! Get down!â he roared, forgetting his own demands for quiet in the heat of the moment. He sprinted across the remaining distance and got one hand on the dogâs collar.
But it was too late.
The rotten fence posts gave out with a moan and a creak. The fence went down with a bang - right into Lilithâs crop of sunflowers - the cat yowled in astonishment, then ran like hell.
Cooley shook off Mitchâs grip, bounded over the debris and gave chase, barking all the while. The pair cut a swath of destruction through Lilithâs yard, the dog clearly trying to gobble up the cat, the cat running for its life.
In a heartbeat, they had wrought havoc.
One glance was enough to tell Mitch that Lilith treasured this garden. It was all blooms, little pathways lined with nodding flowers Mitch couldnât name, a horticultural haven like the ones in glossy magazines.
And his dog was trashing it.
Mitch wasnât doing a very good job of stopping him. He bellowed, but to no avail. He darted after the pair but couldnât get a grip on Cooley.
Suddenly, the cat scrambled up a trellis. It perched on the roof, looking daggers at the dog, as its tail lashed angrily.
Cooley had his front paws up on the house, his back paws planted in flattened flowers, while he barked fit to beat the band.
âCooley!â Mitch shouted, certain every single one of his neighbors was all awake by now.
Maybe they were entertained.
Either way, it was a hell of an entry into the neighborhood.
The dog, his prey clearly out of range, stopped barking. He looked at Mitch and seemed to suddenly understand that he was in Deep Trouble. The wolfhound sat back on his haunches, right in the middle of something with a lot of crushed orange flowers, and looked as sheepish as a big hairy dog can look.
Mitch surveyed the damage and felt sick. Flowers were broken, tomatoes lay bleeding on the pathways, sunflower stalks were snapped. He didnât know a lot about gardens, but he guessed that this one wouldnât recover this summer.
Mitch met the dogâs gaze, snapped his fingers and pointed imperatively to his own yard. Cooley skulked across Lilithâs garden, steering a wide path from Mitch. The huge dog was trying so hard to make himself small that Mitch might have laughed under other circumstances.
But there was nothing funny about this. Mitch owed his neighbor, however nutty she might be, another apology. Another biggie.
âWell done,â he commented to Cooley, who lay down in the furthest corner of the yard to sulk. âWeâre making a great impression here. Thanks a lot for doing your part.â
The wolfhound dropped his nose to his paws - no doubt a bid to look pathetic - but Mitch wasnât interested in making up just yet.
He shook a warning finger at the dog. âCat or no cat, donât even think about crossing that fence line again.â
Cooley inched further back into the corner, as though acknowledging the command, his big brown eyes so sad that he looked like he might
Having everything make sense was little consolation right now.
âCooley! Be quiet!â Mitch darted barefoot across the yard. He quickly discovered that the dandelions were mixed with a healthy crop of thistles. Mitch cursed and picked a thorn out of his toe, hopping closer to the barking dog.
Heâd certainly had better mornings.
The cat watched Mitch from its perch on the fence, its tail waving as though it taunted him to come and shoo it away. Something in its expression was eerily assessing. Then the cat looked down at Cooley and hissed in open antagonism.
The dog went wild.
Cooley barked and jumped on the fence, thoroughly ignoring Mitchâs commands for silence or sitting. The wolfhoundâs considerable weight made the fence wobble dangerously. Mitch realized with horror just how old that fence was and saw what was going to happen.
Right before it did.
âCooley! No! Get down!â he roared, forgetting his own demands for quiet in the heat of the moment. He sprinted across the remaining distance and got one hand on the dogâs collar.
But it was too late.
The rotten fence posts gave out with a moan and a creak. The fence went down with a bang - right into Lilithâs crop of sunflowers - the cat yowled in astonishment, then ran like hell.
Cooley shook off Mitchâs grip, bounded over the debris and gave chase, barking all the while. The pair cut a swath of destruction through Lilithâs yard, the dog clearly trying to gobble up the cat, the cat running for its life.
In a heartbeat, they had wrought havoc.
One glance was enough to tell Mitch that Lilith treasured this garden. It was all blooms, little pathways lined with nodding flowers Mitch couldnât name, a horticultural haven like the ones in glossy magazines.
And his dog was trashing it.
Mitch wasnât doing a very good job of stopping him. He bellowed, but to no avail. He darted after the pair but couldnât get a grip on Cooley.
Suddenly, the cat scrambled up a trellis. It perched on the roof, looking daggers at the dog, as its tail lashed angrily.
Cooley had his front paws up on the house, his back paws planted in flattened flowers, while he barked fit to beat the band.
âCooley!â Mitch shouted, certain every single one of his neighbors was all awake by now.
Maybe they were entertained.
Either way, it was a hell of an entry into the neighborhood.
The dog, his prey clearly out of range, stopped barking. He looked at Mitch and seemed to suddenly understand that he was in Deep Trouble. The wolfhound sat back on his haunches, right in the middle of something with a lot of crushed orange flowers, and looked as sheepish as a big hairy dog can look.
Mitch surveyed the damage and felt sick. Flowers were broken, tomatoes lay bleeding on the pathways, sunflower stalks were snapped. He didnât know a lot about gardens, but he guessed that this one wouldnât recover this summer.
Mitch met the dogâs gaze, snapped his fingers and pointed imperatively to his own yard. Cooley skulked across Lilithâs garden, steering a wide path from Mitch. The huge dog was trying so hard to make himself small that Mitch might have laughed under other circumstances.
But there was nothing funny about this. Mitch owed his neighbor, however nutty she might be, another apology. Another biggie.
âWell done,â he commented to Cooley, who lay down in the furthest corner of the yard to sulk. âWeâre making a great impression here. Thanks a lot for doing your part.â
The wolfhound dropped his nose to his paws - no doubt a bid to look pathetic - but Mitch wasnât interested in making up just yet.
He shook a warning finger at the dog. âCat or no cat, donât even think about crossing that fence line again.â
Cooley inched further back into the corner, as though acknowledging the command, his big brown eyes so sad that he looked like he might
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