Coming Home for Christmas by Fern Michaels Read Free Book Online

Christmas lights on his house. That makes you some kind of ghoul in my opinion. I wonder what the cops will do if I call them. I want my damn dog, and I want him now.”
    â€œWhy don’t you try taking him and see how far you get.” The hammer swung again. The sound was so loud, Hank winced. “Go ahead, call the police. I’m just being a good neighbor. I know for a fact that Mr. Carpenter always had Christmas lights. In his later years he probably had someone do it for him. And just for the record, these are my lights. I didn’t steal them, nor did I break into Mr. Carpenter’s house in case that’s the next thing you’re going to say. Furthermore, you . . .you . . . buffoon, don’t you think it’s a little strange that a woman is doing this when someone of your . . . ilk should be doing it? Go bother somebody else. I’m busy.”
    Buffoon. Someone of my ilk. What the hell did that mean? His toe was throbbing so bad he wanted to bang it on the porch railing. Anger at his circumstances rippled through him. “Listen to me, you . . . you dog snatcher, I want my dog, and I want him now. He’s a boy dog. Why’d you put that stupid red ribbon with a bell on him?”
    The voice that retaliated was syrupy sweet. “It’s like this, you clown. The bell lets me know where he is. This is the Christmas season, and red goes with the silver bell. For the last time, I did not snatch your dog. He came to me. He doesn’t even like you. I can tell. Look at him, he’s petrified of you. That’s pretty bad when a dog doesn’t like his owner. Did you abuse this poor animal?”
    Outrage rivered through Hank at the accusation. Hank bent over to peer at the golden dog, who growled. “I would never harm an animal. I might have been a little sharp with him when he deliberately lifted his leg on a chair. He pees a flood. It took two towels to clean it up. He jumps the fence. I didn’t know he could do that until this morning.”
    The voice was still syrupy sweet. “And I suppose you think I’m going to believe that . . . that ridiculous story. Let’s get real here.”
    Hank was at his wit’s end. His toe was killing him. “Are you always this nasty so early in the morning, or were you born this way?”
    Four things happened at that precise moment before Amy could respond. Mason opened the front door to get the newspaper, Miss Sadie beelined out the door and ran at the speed of light to the Carpenter front porch, at which point Churchill leaped up to greet his new best friend and toppled the ladder. The know-it-all slipped and fell.
    â€œOh, shit!”
    â€œOh, shit, is right,” Nanook of the North said as she rolled over in her down coat to survey the damage. Somehow or other the two dogs were now tangled in the string of Christmas lights that were twinkling off and on.
    Churchill growled, his ears going flat against his head, a sure sign that he was perturbed at something.
    Hank took that moment to stare at the woman on the floor, who was laughing hysterically. So this is what she looks like. Something teased at his memory then, something he couldn’t put his finger on. She was so pretty it took his breath away. And she had the nicest laugh he’d ever heard in his life. He knew that laugh. Or he remembered it from somewhere. The question was where? “Do I know you?”
    Amy was on her feet when she looked up at her old childhood friend. “I don’t know, do you?” She bent down then to try to untangle the string of lights the dogs were bent on chewing.
    Hank wondered if a buffoon-slash-clown would do what he was doing, which was holding out his hand. “Hank Anders. I’m visiting next door for the holidays.”
    Amy stopped what she was doing, stood up straight, and looked him dead in the eye, hoping she wasn’t giving away the delicious feeling coursing through her. “Mandy