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His words made her smile. He remembered their conversation from last night and was concerned that his actions would be perceived the same as Aaron’s manipulative behavior. But this was nothing like Aaron. Putting tires on her car didn’t benefit Chet at all. Except he didn’t need to drive her around anymore.
“I was just trying to help,” he whispered.
“Thank you.” She lifted onto her toes and kissed his bearded cheek.
Tucker cleared his throat, drawing both of their attention.
She aimed her sweetest smile at him. “Okay. Now tell me about Wrigley.”
At the sound of his name, the medium-sized dog jumped to all fours and barked once.
“Wrigley’s new,” Tucker said, not bothering to hide his amused smirk and questioning eyes. “He was being fostered by a buddy of mine who made sure to get all of his certifications for being a therapy dog. I planned to use him at the retreat, but I thought you might like to have him.”
“Me?” She loved spending time with the dogs at the kennel, but she’d never owned an animal of her own. She didn’t even know if she was allowed to keep a pet in her apartment.
Tucker carried his steaming mug to the table and sat. “Otto made you feel safe, but I need him with me. The other dogs have strict schedules I like to keep as much as possible. But Wrigley here, he needs a home. Some special attention. And he’s trained. He can protect you.”
“I can protect her,” Chet growled.
She smoothed his chest with her palm then lowered to her haunches. “Come here, boy.”
Wrigley bounded to her. His butt wiggled, and he licked her face.
She giggled. “Sit.”
He obeyed.
She ran her hand over his head and down his side. “What kind of dog is he?”
“German Short-Haired Pointer. He’s a sweet boy. A little over a year. What do you think?”
Wrigley lurched forward, pushing her to the ground, then sat in her lap.
“Does Bobby allow pets?” She asked Chet.
He groaned. “Probably.”
She aimed narrowed eyes his way. “What’s with the groan?”
“Dogs shed and bark and shit in the yard.”
“You like Otto,” she countered. “And besides, I’m the one who’ll deal with the mess. He’d be my dog, at my place. Not yours.”
Something flashed on his face, as if her words somehow hurt him, then he scooped up the baking pan and shoved it in the oven.
Gravel crunched outside followed by the slamming of a car door.
“Sounds like Cruz is here to pick me up,” Tucker said. “Elizabeth is on her way to the police station. I told her I’d meet her.”
Chet tensed. “Want me there?”
“Nah, let’s give her some time to get settled. She’ll let you know when she wants to talk to you. To both of you.”
A knock rattled the door before Cruz let himself in. “Morning guys. How’s it going?”
Wrigley barked, but stayed seated by Mia.
Chet grunted.
