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I smiled. “What can I ask?”

“Let’s see, you can ask what my background is.”

“Are you in HR? You seem awfully knowledgeable about properly conducted interviews.”

“See, that’s a question you could ask.”

Witty.

“And I thought I already had the job,” she pointed out.

“You do. What? I can’t know a little about who my best friend is sleeping with?”

I heard her snort and I grinned.

“Your best friend is sleeping with a young lady smart enough to know better than to tell a stranger where she lives and how old she is. Are you going to ask me if I’m home alone next?”

“Are you?”

“Wow. You’re definitely a creeper.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’ll bet,” she said. A pause. “I live alone.”

“Okay. Any other pets?”

“Nope. Such a thorough interview. I have a feeling these questions weren’t asked the last time you selected a dog-sitter,” she said wryly.

I grinned. “I’m trying to learn from my many mistakes.”

“I don’t have any other pets. But I grew up with German shepherds. You have to exercise working dogs. They become destructive if you don’t make them tired. Tucker’s a birding dog. He’s bred for high activity.”

I knew this, of course, but it impressed me that she did. “And so you’re keeping him busy?”

The sound of running water and the clink of dishes came through the phone. Then I heard her talking to Tucker quietly in the background and my smile broadened. She asked him if he was a good boy and if he wanted a puppy snack. He barked.

“Walking him five miles a day,” she said. “My tan looks great.”

“I’d love to see that. Send me a picture.”

It was a joke—kind of. I did want to see what she looked like. I was curious.

“And now you’ve got a lawsuit on your hands. Sexually harassing an employee.” She tsked. “You must be a nightmare for your human resources department.”

“Nah, I’m only a pain in my own ass.”

“Oh yeah? What do you do?”

So she didn’t recognize me. That wasn’t unusual—it was also something I was working very hard to change. My luggage came around the carousel. My guitar case sat a few bags behind it. “I’m a musician.”

“Oh, one of those Hollywood types. In the biz, on tour or away filming a soundtrack for an indie movie overseas.”

She wasn’t far off. Jesus, was I really that cliché?

“Something like that. I am touring with a group. And there is a movie involved. But it’s not an indie film.”

The movie was kind of a big one, actually, but I didn’t like to throw that around. Even though that seemed to be the LA thing to do, name-dropping made me feel like an asshole.