Page 157 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

Elena cut Max’s plain hot dog into neat pieces. “Besides, Uncle likes him. Says he has manners.”

“He has better manners than most partners at my firm.”

“Low bar?” Elena asked.

“Tragically.”

We ate standing near the cart. Avery held Socko’s leash while I fed Max one piece at a time, making him wait between bites because otherwise he would inhale the whole thing. Elena asked about the dogs, and Avery launched into a surprisingly coherent explanation of rehab work, failed service placement, and why “failed” was a terrible word for a dog who simply needed a different job.

Elena listened without interrupting.

When Socko finally squatted near the curb, Avery sighed and pulled a bag from her pocket. “And here we have the glamorous part of my career.”

“Heroic,” I said.

“Shut up and hold my food.”

I took her hot dog tray while she dealt with Socko. Elena leaned closer, lowering her voice.

“So,” she said. “Your friend.”

“Avery?”

“She single?”

I glanced over. Avery was tying off the bag, flatly annoyed at the universe, while Socko wagged, delighted with herself.

I smiled. “Yes.”

Elena slipped a napkin toward me. I glanced down, spotting the phone number scrawled over it. “Give her that?”

I beamed. “Absolutely.”

“And don’t tell her I got nervous.”

“Never. Women’s code.”

“She looks intimidating.”

“She is. But mostly to men who deserve it and dogs who ignore recall.”

Elena’s smile widened. “Perfect.”

Avery came back and narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That was a nothing face?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re paranoid.”

“I train Malinois. Paranoia is part of the job.”

Elena handed her a soda. “On the house.”

Avery stared at it, then at her.

Oh.