Chapter 17

“You won’t have to offer another. You better not,” he warned.

“It’s no big deal,” I said and added, “There are entrees and desserts,” once we’d both buckled ourselves in. Three of us, actually. Moose the mini pincher sat on my lap, and his harness had a clip for safety.

“He’s going to shed on your suit pants.”

“I don’t mind.” Fur did fly when I offered doggy tummy rubs.

“It’s unusual for him to take to strangers so quickly.”

“I’m honored.”

“You probably smell like food.”

“I’m not honored?” Z was easy to talk to and joke with.

“Only Moose knows his intent.”

All systems go, all blind spots checked, we pulled away from the curb.

“The food does smell delicious.”

“I had my hands in all of it.” A sideways glance brought a rewording. “A spoon…my hand on a spoon. I helped make some of it,” I said. “A lot of it.”

“Befuddled.”

“Huh?”

“Just keeping track of something. And, yes, I assumed that was what you meant.”