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“Just a cut of beef. My mother was, is Jewish, so we had it most holidays.”
“Oh.” Dean waited for her to ask him something else about his family, but instead, she changed the subject entirely. “So, do you live alone or with Tyler?”
Dean should have been relieved that she didn’t ask him more about his family, but instead, he found it odd. Most women asked a million questions, even personal ones, to pass the time until they hooked up.
Guess she really doesn’t want to get involved.
“I live alone, and I’ll apologize now for my furniture. I picked most of it up at thrift stores because I wasn’t planning on staying this long.”
“Where did you expect to be?”
Ah, there was a bit of curiosity in her. “Wherever they needed me. Most likely overseas.”
“So, what is the holdup?”
Dean wasn’t about to tell her he was waiting on his psychiatrist to clear him; she might start thinking he really was dangerous. “Just a lot of factors and red tape. It will happen, though.”
“Huh.” She didn’t press him for more details, just sat quietly as he turned right on El Camino, and then left a few minutes later into his garage. He’d been lucky enough to rent the townhouse for a decent price, and the landlord hadn’t even had a problem when he’d brought his dog, Dilbert, home. Some places had a thing against pit bull mixes, but Kenneth had been cool.
Dean parked and unbuckled his seat belt. “I just need to let my dog out back. He’s super mellow, so you don’t have to be afraid, he’s just big.”
“What kind of dog?”
“Pit bull mix.” Best had guessed Dilbert was a pit because it was such a concentrated breed in the Sacramento area, but Dilbert could have been boxer and bulldog for all they knew. Whatever he was, he was a sweet, lazy-as-hell dork that Dean loved.
They walked inside, and Dilbert’s heavy breathing deepened the closer Dean got to his kennel. “Hey, buddy, you need to pee?”
Dilbert kept looking beyond Dean to Violet, his tail wagging low and fast. Dean glanced back at Violet, his smile fading as he took in her wary expression.
“You got something against bully breeds?” he asked.
“You could say that.”
He waited for her to say something else, but she just stood back behind his kitchen table. “Why?”
“I almost had my calf taken off by one before, so yeah, I’m a little nervous around them.”
It was a tale Dean had heard often, but since working with Best and the other trainers at Alpha Dog, he had learned a lot about dogs. The biggest thing was that you couldn’t judge an entire breed on a few bad examples.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but Dilbert”—Dean paused to grab his dog’s leash before opening the cage and clicking it on his collar—“is just a big doofus. He’s pretty low energy and might sniff you to death, but other than that, he’s a pussycat.”
“He’s a little big to be a cat, don’t you think?” She eyed Dilbert, holding their food against her chest like a shield.
“I’m going to put him outside for a bit, anyway, but he’ll win you over. Just wait.” He walked past her with Dilbert, who tried to pull toward her for a split second before Dean corrected him. He opened the back door, and Dilbert lumbered outside before sitting patiently while Dean unclipped his leash. “Okay.”
At the release command, Dilbert started sniffing across the lawn until he reached his favorite tree and lifted his leg. Dean snuck back inside to find Violet opening up his cupboards.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to snoop?”
“I was looking for plates, not snooping,” she said.
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, you’re right. I was checking for body parts and pints of blood,” she said dryly.
Geez, the girl had an obsession with morbidity. “Holy shit, what kind of movies do you watch?”
“I love true crime. For some reason, serial killers fascinate me.”
