Page 1 of Pugs & Kisses

D umbstruck and unable to speak, Evie Williams stared into the open doorway of her bedroom, her brain tripping and stumbling as it tried to process the sight before her.

Everything looked and sounded familiar—the sunlight gleaming off the polished footboard of her mahogany sleigh bed, the melodic tick of the ceiling fan as it spun on its highest setting.

Even the perfume she’d spritzed herself with before leaving this morning—Jo Malone Peony & Blush Suede—still lingered in the air.

And yet, everything was different. She knew with mind-numbing certainty that her world, as of this moment, would never be the same.

This could not be happening.

The words tumbled around in her head, over and over and over again. This could not be happening. There had to be an explanation.

Evie tilted her head to the side and continued to stare, trying to make sense of the senseless.

The dark green satin sheets she’d washed yesterday partially shielded a perfectly tanned ass that pumped up and down in rhythm to guttural grunts.

She knew that ass intimately. She’d seen it this morning, when her fiancé had walked from the shower to his closet while she stood at their bathroom mirror getting ready for work.

An impassioned cry rang out as a pair of shapely legs wrapped around Cameron’s waist. Manicured nails clutched his back. They were painted a bright pink that Evie would never have chosen to wear in a million years.

The sight of that garish nail polish gave rise to another bout of confusion.

The color was the antithesis of her own style.

The man she knew better than any other would never bring a woman who painted her nails such an obnoxious color into their bed, would he?

Cam had his faults, but he would never cheat on her, despite what she could clearly see happening with her own eyes.

This could not be happening !

She had to get out of here. Maybe if she left the house, then came back, this alternative universe she now found herself in will have righted itself.

Evie backed out of the doorway. Time slowed to the pace of a garden snail as she turned and made her way up the hallway, past the open-concept living room and kitchen, and out the front door.

It felt as if her body were moving through molasses, the movements seeming to belong to someone else.

Her hands fumbled with the house key as she locked the front door behind her and headed for her car.

She had experienced this particular sensation only a few times before, but it had been enough to recognize it as her body’s response to shock. She needed time to process what she had just witnessed before she could deal with it.

Evie opened her car door but then stopped with her fingers on the handle. Her head snapped up.

“What is there to process?” she asked the slanted reflection staring back at her in the driver’s side window.

She knew exactly what was happening. Cameron was in their bed, making love to another woman. The same bed where he’d made love to her last night.

The sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach morphed into a searing rage.

Evie slammed the car door shut and rushed back up the walkway leading to the house. This time her fingers were steady as she slipped the key in the lock and opened the front door. She marched through the foyer, her blood pounding to an angry beat in her veins.

She’d just entered the living room when a buck-naked Cameron sauntered out of the kitchen with a bottle of water, his toned six-pack abs gleaming and semi-flaccid penis bobbing as he walked. He ran a hand through his dark blond hair and brought the bottle to his mouth.

His steps faltered the moment he saw her.

“Ev… Evie!” he said, choking on the water. He glanced toward their bedroom. “Ev, what are… Why aren’t you at… ah… at Ashanti’s? Is everything okay?”

No! she wanted to shout at him. No, Cameron! Everything is not okay!

But the words would not come. Evie could only stand there. She stared in disbelief at the man she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with. Those plans were gone now, shattered by his callous disregard for their relationship.

“Evie,” Cameron demanded in an irritated voice. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my house,” Evie finally answered, both surprised and pleased at the calmness she managed to maintain.

“Am I not allowed to visit my own house in the middle of the day?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “A better question is, what are you doing in my house in the middle of the day, Cameron?”

Instead of answering, he said, “You’re supposed to be at work.”

“So are you,” she pointed out. “But you’re standing in the middle of my kitchen without any clothes on. Why is that?”

“Stop calling it yours,” Cameron snapped. “I pay half the bills here.”

For the briefest second, Evie’s eyes flashed to the knife block sitting on the kitchen counter next to the Keurig. But the satisfaction she would get from chopping Cameron’s dick off wasn’t worth the jail time.

He could keep his dick. She didn’t want it anymore.

“Are you going to answer my question?” Evie asked. “Why are you standing here naked in the middle of the day, Cameron?”

“I can already tell you’re jumping to conclusions,” he said.

He set the water bottle on the counter and held his hands up.

“I only came home to take a shower. The Rousseaus’ rott-weiler got caught up in some barbwire.

He was filthy when they brought him in and my scrubs were a mess by the time I finished examining him. ”

It was no easy feat to stop her jaw from falling to the floor. Was he attempting to lie his way out of this? Seriously? For some reason that made her more upset than when she first walked up to her bedroom and caught sight of his bare ass in her bed.

Evie didn’t say anything as she lifted her phone from her back pocket.

“Are you calling the practice to check up on my story?” Cameron asked. “You don’t trust me?”

She managed to hold in the hysterical laugh that nearly escaped. Evie swiped across the screen. Her fingers shook, a clear indication that the calm she’d managed to maintain so far was on the brink of dissolving.

She held up the phone. She was just far enough away that he wouldn’t be able to make out what was on the screen.

“Unless you want the video I recorded of you fucking your little side piece posted on every social media site I can think of, you will get out of my house right now.”

She was bluffing, of course. She had been too shocked to even think to record him, but she didn’t need video.

Just the threat would be enough to send Cameron scurrying.

If Charles Broussard II caught even a whiff of scandal, he would snatch his veterinary practice away, leaving his youngest son to fend for himself.

Cameron wouldn’t survive a month without the practice he’d inherited.

“Cam?” came a feminine voice from the direction of the bedroom.

Evie froze.

“Okay, Ev,” Cameron said, glancing toward the hallway. “Don’t blow this out of proportion.”

“You have five minutes to get out of my house,” Evie told her fiancé.

Ex -fiancé.

“Evie, be reasonable.”

“You can come back for the rest of your things later,” she said. She had to strain to get the words past the lump of emotion that had suddenly lodged in her throat. The weight of this moment, of what it meant for how her life would progress from this point forward, overwhelmed her.

Cameron took a step toward her. “Come on, Ev. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t you dare come near me!” Evie’s hand shot out in front of her, holding him back. “I told you to leave.”

“Ev—”

“Cameron, get the fuck out of my house!” Evie screamed.

He snapped back. The surprise on his face mirrored what she felt inside. She’d never shouted at him like that before.

“Cam?” the voice called again. A moment later, the blonde with the hot-pink nails walked into the kitchen wrapped up in Evie’s favorite sheets.

Great. Now she would have to burn them. That son of a bitch was buying her another set.

“Oh… no,” the woman said. “You’re the girlfriend, aren’t you?”

“Get out of my house,” Evie said again. If she had to say those words one more time, she would not be responsible for the actions that followed.

Cameron and his—what was she? His mistress? His girlfriend? An escort he’d hired?—hustled toward the hallway leading to the back bedrooms.

Evie folded her arms over her stomach and sucked in several deep breaths.

Every square inch of her skin hummed with an irritating, prickly tingle, as if someone were jabbing her with a thousand tiny pins.

She would have to google the stages of emotional shock to figure out exactly where this complex mash-up of tension, anger, and disbelief landed on the spectrum.

When would the numbness set in? That’s what she wanted right now. Give her the bliss that came with not feeling anything.

At least ten minutes passed before Cameron emerged from the hallway. He wore the blue Vineyard Vines sweater she’d bought him for his birthday last month, along with khakis. It was his typical attire on Wednesdays when he taught a class at Tulane University.

That’s where he should be right now. If she was in a steadier state of mind, she would have remembered that bit of information when he’d tried to feed her his bullshit story about the Rousseaus’ rottweiler.

He must have canceled his class today. Was this the first time he’d canceled so that he could engage in midday activities that didn’t require clothing? How long had this been going on?

His mistress, ironically, was the one wearing medical scrubs. The pants were pink and the top had little balloons on it.

For the second time, Cameron’s steps faltered when he saw Evie. “You’re still here?”

“This is my house!” Evie reminded him, her yell echoing off the pitched ceiling.

The blonde looked between Evie and Cameron. “My shift starts in a few hours,” she said before hurrying past Evie and out the side kitchen door.