“Are you pretending to heat up his food?” Zoey asks, and when I look over, she’s got that big smile stretching her lips again.

“Yeah, he’s picky.” I don’t offer any more explanation because I know I already seem a bit crazy, and it’s saying something when a ‘crazy’ recognizes you as one of their own.

Not that Zoey’s crazy. Or that I am.

But . . . yeah, we might be. A little. Isn’t everyone?

I set Chunky’s bowl down, and he digs in, slurping and snorting every bit of it down in minutes. Honestly, he might actually inhale some of it. Hopefully, he’ll soon learn that no one’s going to take his food away and he can slow down and enjoy it. But today is not that day.

“Good job. Go clean your face.” This is the one trick I’m thrilled to have taught him, not because it’s all that showy and flashy but because it’s useful.

Chunky goes over to a hook on the cabinet, bites down on the towel hanging there, and then throws it to the floor. He then wipes his face, and any wayward dog food, picks up the towel, and carries it off to the laundry room to drop it by the washing machine. “Oh, yeah, who’s a pretty boy now, all fed and cleaned up?”

Chunky sits and pants again, almost smiling as if he knows I’m talking to him. Meanwhile, I wash my hands, avoiding Zoey’s eyes. She’s watching the whole scene unfold seemingly comfortably, which surprises me. I figured she’d be freaking out six ways to Sunday just being in my house. It’s a big step for her. One she sees as risky even if I have no intention of rushing her into something she’s not ready for.

Even if it kills me and my dick, which is damn near rock hard and standing at attention now that I see Zoey in my place.

“Beer?” I offer, opening the fridge and grabbing two.

“Sure,” she answers.

I can hear the tension in her voice. Oh, so maybe not as comfortable as she seems? She hides it well . . . too well, as though she’s had to hide herself for too long, too many times. She takes the beer and swallows a healthy mouthful, nearly guzzling it as though she needs some liquid courage.

“Zo, breathe. We’re just here to feed Chunky, look up more heavy metal stuff, and hopefully get to know each other a bit more. I already told you, no sex until we go on a date, so you’re totally safe here.”

I teasingly hold my hands out to her, beer and all, as though she’s the one about to attack me for a dick ride.

A laugh blurts out of her, along with her second sip of beer, spraying me. “Oh, God! Sorry!”