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He was good at both and chose to ignore her comment. “I didn’t realize that you had no idea I p
layed for the Chinooks until we were somewhere over Vancouver.” The dog stretched out on its belly with its furry paws in front. The thing had black beady eyes that stared at him through strands of white and black hair falling from the wild topknot on its head.
“That was the first hour.”
The little dog scooted toward him. “At the time, I thought it was probably best if your father never found out I’d ripped your wedding dress off of you. Even if it was at your request.” That was half the truth. He took a drink, then set the bottle on the coffee table.
“Believe me, that’s something I never want Dad to find out about, either. You still should have told me.”
He looked at the dog as it inched toward him. Its big furry ears and Flock of Seagulls hair, combined with wrinkly skin and a sharp pointed nose, made probably the ugliest dog he’d ever seen. Certainly the most bizarre.
“You could have mentioned it the next morning at the Waffle Hut or later at your mother’s when she was dying to call Wendy.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “Or when I brought you lunch in your weight room and stuck around to clear my head of the description of your mother’s bowels. Or when I told you that my dad thinks you’re a nancy-pants.”
“Which time?”
“Any of those times.” Another wrinkle creased her forehead as if she couldn’t recall talking about it more than once. “Or when you had your hand down my shirt.”
“I wasn’t thinking about it when I had my hand down your shirt.” He was focused on the soft weight of her breast in his palm.
“You could have mentioned it before you snuck out of the hotel room in the middle of the night.”
“I didn’t sneak. I thought I’d see you on the Sea Hopper, later that morning.” He glanced at her shifty-eyed dog, then back at her. “It shouldn’t have even gotten to that point, but the whole situation just kept snowballing until it got out of control. You have experience with something snowballing out of control.”
“You could have contacted me when you returned home.”
“I tried. Your voice mail box was full.” He pointed to the dog. “Does that thing bite?”
“She’s not a thing, and no. She doesn’t bite.” She paused. “At least not yet.”
He glanced at Lexie. “What is it?”
“Yum Yum isn’t an ‘it’ either. She’s a Chinese crested.” Lexie brushed her fingers through the long hair on her tail. “Please watch what you say in front of her. She’s very sensitive, and her feelings are easily crushed.”
“What the fuck?”
“And no cursing. She doesn’t like it.”
“Does she have a fucking swear jar?”
“No, but that’s a good idea. You and Dad can help contribute to her chew-toy fund.”
“Jes—sus.”
A big frown wrinkled her brow again. “Harsh voices upset her.”
“But that pink thing you make her wear isn’t upsetting?”
“It’s from my Woo-Hoo Tutu line of dog couture. Hot pink makes her feel better when she’s sad.”
He wasn’t about to ask how she knew her dog was sad. Mostly because he didn’t give a shit, and because he was already sorry he’d asked about the stupid tutu. “It’s getting late.” Was he really having a conversation about a dog’s sad feelings? “Let’s cut through the bullshit. Why did you stuff a note in my pocket?”
“We need to talk about the picture.”
There was only one picture she could be referencing. “What about it?”
“It’s ruined my life.”
“I doubt your life is ruined.” What a drama queen. “And if it is, you ruined it the day you ran from your wedding.”
