Who cared what the lease said? The moment Merry saw how Miguel bonded right away with the dog, she made her decision. She’d move if the landlord had a problem with it.

They went off to the far corner of the living room. Together. And dare she say Miguel looked a bit happier than before?

“The puppy has no official designation. It is up to the owners to decide, as names have power.”

“No name? We’ll have to think of something. Rufus? Clifford?” She tapped her lower lip. “Hmm. This will take some thought. But where are my manners? Come in.” She closed the door behind Marduke, all too aware of how much space he took. How manly he appeared.

Any nervousness at his sudden arrival disappeared at the sight of the puppy. Bad people didn’t go around with puppies, unless— She glanced at him and asked, “Do you own a white van?”

“No.”

“Excellent.” She bustled the two steps to her kitchen and made a platter of crackers and cheese. Both the processed kind. She poured grape juice into plastic tumblers. She carried out her charcuterie spread on a Paw Patrol platter found at the dollar store to the living room. He still stood, looking at the mess on the floor.

“What happened?” He waved a hand to encompass the destruction.

She set the tray down on her reclaimed crate table by the sofa she’d salvaged, the cushions stuffed with clothing that had outlived its purpose. “Having suffered emotional trauma, Miguel found himself needing to physically express his feelings.”

“The kid had a tantrum.” Marduke glanced from her to Miguel. “You. Kid. Clean up that mess.”

Miguel glanced at Marduke but continued to pet the dog.

She intervened. “Not needed.”

“He did it. He cleans it.”

“No, he doesn’t have to. He’s had a rough time.” She excused Miguel, but Marduke wouldn’t have it.

“Don’t make excuses for shit behavior. Time he learns how it works.” He focused on Miguel. “You wanna break stuff? You clean it up. That’s not up to your mother to do. So get a broom.”

Miguel paused.

Marduke kept staring and growled, “Now, boy.”

For a second, Miguel’s expression tightened, and he stood, bristling puppy by his side. He held Marduke’s gaze.

The man won the staring contest. Miguel relaxed before offering a short nod. He then proceeded to clean.

Gaping proved to be the only thing Merry was capable of. She’d never seen Miguel calm so quickly from a rage. And he was tidying. Not something he’d done in the last year. He usually preferred to make messes.

Once Miguel was done, he returned and stood a few paces from Marduke, who nodded. “Good job. Now for some lessons about your puppy. What you’ve got there is a hellhound.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that breed,” she mused aloud.

“Because they’re rare on Earth.”