I leaned my back against Christian and gave Crush an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to break in.”
“You should have told me.” He opened the fridge and bent over. “You know I don’t care. I just don’t like people sneaking around behind my back.”
“So you decided to keep the dog?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you name him?”
“I was thinking about Pickles.”
Christian barked out a laugh. “Now that’s a grand name for a beast like that.”
I frowned. “Pickles?”
Crush finally stood, a giant dill pickle in his hand. The dog gobbled it up before he could offer it to him.
“Don’t feed him those. They’re probably loaded in sodium.”
Christian wrapped his arms around me. “Sounds like a match made in heaven.”
My father shut the fridge door and gave me a stern look—the same one I used to get when I came home late as a teen. “Where the hell’s my chicken?”
“Oh shit. Was that your lunch? Is that what you came home for?”
He sighed. “Never mind. I’ll grab something on the way back. Where’s my hug, baby girl? Or are you too good to hug your old man around the Vamp?”
I broke out of Christian’s arms and gave my father a hug. He wrapped me in his strong arms, water dripping off his head and the smell of oil and sweat filling my nose. The dog began growling again.
“Don’t let your dog eat my boyfriend,” I said quietly.
“I’ll have you know I can snap this animal’s neck in less than two seconds,” Christian remarked.
“Keep it up, peckerhead, and I’ll give him wooden teeth,” Crush snarled.
I backed away. “All right, break it up.”
He twisted his mouth and returned to the fridge. I gathered our papers from the table and tucked them in a single file folder.
Crush rattled plastic. When I looked, he was tossing cheese slices at the dog, who practically inhaled them.
Christian shook his head. “Jaysus wept.You’re going to back up that mutt’s colon until he shites all over the place.”
Crush tossed the dog another piece. “I ran out of fucks to give.”
The red bullmastiff gobbled up another slice of cheese and walked back to keep an eye on Christian. He had a dark face with droopy jowls, but he was solid muscle.
“Oh, for feck’s sake!” Christian suddenly covered his nose and flew out the front door.
Confused, I went to go after him when I caught a whiff of what had driven him out. “Jesus, Crush. You need to start feeding him dog food. Do you really want all that gas in your house?”
Crush straightened his back. “Iget gas. So what?”
“If you light up a cigar, you’re likely to blow this place up.”
He gave a rolling belly laugh, and it made me laugh right along with him.
“I’m serious. Stop giving him all that cheese.”
