“Why am I not surprised?” I mutter.
“Dogs smell and shed and pee everywhere.” He shudders. “People treat them like babies and put them in strollers and dress them up in stupid little outfits. It’s disturbing.”
“Okay, I agree with the stroller thing. That’s weird. But Snowball’s very clean and definitely potty trained. I doubt you’ll even realize she’s here.”
Snowball sniffs his shoe before trotting back over to me, and Landon frowns. “Whose dog did you say this was again?”
“I didn’t. It’s Randall’s down the street.” I reach down and give Snowball some chin scratches, which she seems to like. “Have you met him? He’s the older man who lives on the corner of—”
“This is RandallBishop’sdog?” I glance up, confused by the shock in Landon’s voice. I don’t think I’ve ever surprised him with anything before. I don’t think he’s everbeensurprised before.
“Yes? He never told me his last name.”
Landon shakes his head in disbelief, his earlier anger forgotten. “How the fuck do you knowRandall Bishopwell enough to take care of his dog?”
I shrug. “I fix his iPhone sometimes.”
“You fix his iPhone,” he repeats flatly.
“Well, also his TV. And his iPad, on occasion. He’s not great with technology.”
“Violet,” Landon says, staring at me with a crazed sort of look in his eye that, frankly, scares me just a little. “You realize who that man is, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“He was the lead guitarist forFlynn Bishop.” When all I give him is a blank stare, his eyes widen in disbelief. “The rock band from the seventies?” I keep staring. “The guy is alegend.”
I shake my head. “No way, I’ve seen his house. A dude that famous would do a better job with the upkeep.”
“You’ve seen Randall Bishop’shouse?” he breathes, his mind clearly blown.
“I mean…yes?”
“How? He’s notorious for being a huge asshole.”
I can’t help but snort. “Ironic, coming from you.”
“I’m serious.”
“It’s calledcharm, Landon. Remember?” I smirk, unable to help myself. “Maybe you should try it sometime and get to know your neighbors.”
Landon rolls his eyes. “I doubt mycharmwould have nearly the same effect.” He shakes his head, muttering, “Randall Bishop’s dog. FuckingRandall Bishop’sdog. What in the fuck—”
“What are you muttering to yourself over there?” I ask sweetly.
He snaps his mouth shut and looks back down at Snowball. “Are you even sure this thingisa dog? It looks like an oversized cotton ball.”
“Landon,” I scold, covering the little fluffball’s ears. “Snowball is an award-winning Pomeranian. Don’t give her a complex.”
Landon blows out a short, irritated breath. “Whatever. I guess we can keep it here since it belongs to Randall Bishop and all. We can’t exactly give away his dog.” Snowball gives a little yap and he sighs. “Just make sure it doesn’t shit in the house.”
“Snowball has better manners than that. Don’t you, girl?”
“I mean it, Violet.”
“I know!” I assure. “She’ll be on her best behavior.” Landon shoots Snowball a dirty look like he doesn’t believe that in the slightest. “Animals are very intuitive, you know,” I tell him. “They can sense when you don’t like them.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “If only people were the same.”
