Roane pushed his way inside as he brushed off the hood of his raincoat. Shadow followed, and as I closed the door and locked it, the dog shook his body and sprayed everything in his vicinity with rainwater.

Me included.

He was forgiven when he trotted over to me and jumped up to say hello. Despite my light-headedness, which was seriously worsened by a huge dog putting his wet paws on my shoulders, I stumbled, laughing and jerking my chin away to avoid his kisses.

“Shadow, down,” Roane said, not sounding amused.

“It’s fine,” I promised, petting the Dane just before he heeded Roane’s orders. I had two muddy marks on my shoulders from his paws, and Roane’s expression clearly said that it wasn’t fine.

“It’ll come out,” I said, waving off his concern. “What brings you back so soon?”

He held up two paper bags that had rain splatter on them. “Lunch from the bakery. I wanted to make sure you were eating.”

“I was actually just about to sit down to a sandwich I’d made,” I told him as I took one of the bags from him and peered inside. The smell of chicken hit me hard, and my belly rumbled. “But screw my crappy ham and cheese sandwich, this will do much better.”

Roane chuckled and made to move past the counter, but my laptop caught his attention. Shooting me a curious look, he dipped his head toward the screen. “What’s this? Do you write?”

I made a face. “No, Nosey. I’m a freelance editor.”

He frowned at me. “You never mentioned that last night.”

“It’s about the only thing I didn’t mention.” I made a face, remembering all the personal stuff I’d blurted at The Anchor.

With a commiserating smile, Roane led me into the back hallway. Shadow trotted at our heels. “So,” Roane said as he kicked off his muddy Wellington boots at the bottom of the stairs. “Do you edit fiction books for a publisher?”

“No, I edit books for indie authors. People who self-publish.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a thing now, isn’t it.”

I grinned as I followed him up to the apartment. “It’s been a thing for a while now, Farmer Robson.”

“And you make money from this?” He glanced over his shoulder at me as he walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah. I did it to supplement my income. Chicago is an expensive place to live.”

“What made you decide to be an editor then?”