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I grin. “What I meant to ask is, ‘Why have cows at all?’”
“Oh.” Evan shrugs. “I imagine Calvin got them for the same reason people get cats or dogs from a shelter.”
Ah. Right. But still. Cows. Plural. Calvin is either angling for sainthood or is planning to have lots of barbeques when a zombie apocalypse arrives.
On the beach, Harry notices the cow and prances over, tail wagging.
The cow doesn’t look happy about this, though it’s possible she’s just on her period, like me, or is just a grump in general.
“Harry, no!” Evan shouts.
At Evan’s voice, Harry’s ears perk up, and he sprints over, tail wagging much more excitedly than it did for the cow.
“Ready to head home?” Evan asks me.
I nod, which stretches the skin on my neck and makes it hurt.
Evan frowns. He must’ve noticed my small wince.
“How about I give you a ride?” he says.
I shake my head. “I have a car here.” I wave toward the parking lot.
“Give me your keys,” he says. “I’ll have Boone bring it to the rental.”
I hand over the keys and stay with Harry as Evan makes the arrangements.
“Your human is a lot nicer than I thought,” I tell Harry.
Harry wags his tail, which I take for agreement.
“Let’s go,” Evan says when he returns. He leads me to his ride—a rugged-looking pickup that brings to mind camping and monster-truck fights.
Harry points his nose at the bed of the pickup and whines.
“No, bud.” Evan tosses his surfboard where the dog is asking to be. “That’s not a safe place to ride.”
Turning to me, he explains, “The people who gave him up to the shelter must’ve let him ride back there, and now he prefers it.” He turns to Harry. “I keep telling you: you could fall out, jump out, and let’s not even think about what would happen if there was a rear collision.”
Huffing stoically, Harry walks over to the door and leaps in when Evan opens it for him.
“One of these days, he’ll stop asking,” Evan says to me with a grin. “This and beer are his worst vices.”
At the mention of beer, Harry’s ears perk up.
“No. Beer isn’t good for dogs.” Evan looks at me. “I had to switch to wine because he’d sometimes steal my beers.”
Harry blinks innocently from inside the car.
Smiling, I get in and find the truck cab much roomier than it seemed from the outside. Neither the dog nor his owner is in my way, and I don’t have to sit on Evan’s lap.
Sigh.
We drive away from the beach and soon stop next to a store with a giant fish statue in the front.
“How do you feel about sashimi?” Evan asks me.
I shrug. “It’s tasty, but it’s not like I want to eat it every day.” Nor could I afford to eat it every day. “Why?” Without answering, he runs into the store and comes back out with a bag.
