Page 13 of Hell Bent

“No,” he said. “Not exactly.”

“Huh,” I said, because there was a leash in the cart. Also a collar. A good-sized leather one, studded with metal hearts. I gave it a squint and said, “I do not want to know.”

He laughed out loud this time. “What are you imagining? No. I have a dog in the car. Notmydog.Adog.”

“All righty, then,” I said.

“What kind of dog food is good?” he asked. “I’ve never had a dog.”

“Sorry. You’ve just met the one other person in America who’s also never had a dog. Which means I have no idea.”

“I’ll just buy the most expensive one, then. Here’s one for senior dogs. Is the one in my car a senior? Not sure. Kinda stiff, but …” He crouched down to the bottom shelf to read the bag.Reallygood thighs. “Senior means lower calorie. The dog’s skinny, so I’m getting the regular kind. Chicken, salmon, high prairie. What’s high prairie?” He read some more. “Buffalo. OK, I’m getting this one. What dog doesn’t want to chew on a bison?” He stood and hoisted the forty-pound bag into the cart, showing off some more lean, hard body and some definite biceps. “That’s the end of my shopping.”

“Poop bags,” I said. “Unless you want to be a bad citizen. Dog bowls.”

“See?” he said. “I knew I needed to run into you. Help me choose.”

“You do not need my help to choose poop bags.”

“I probably just want it, then,” he said, and smiled at me so disarmingly, how could I refuse?

When his purchases were in the cart, he said, “They have a Starbucks here.”

“I noticed.”

“We could go have a coffee,” he said. “Or head next door and get In ’n’ Out Burger. Sit at a plastic table and eat off a paper wrapper with no refinement at all. I’m hungry, and I’ll bet you are, too.”

“A burger and fries sounds so good,” I admitted. “But I have a ways to go tonight.”

“That’s why they call it fast food. Let’s go do it.”

“I still need to buy underwear,” I said.

“Good. I’ll help.”

“You know,” I said, “you’re kind of take-charge.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He sounded pleased.

“It wasn’t necessarily a compliment,” I said.

“No?” he said. “Come have a burger with me, then, and we’ll work on my personality defects. I live to learn.”

6

SEBASTIAN HAS OPINIONS

Sebastian

I followed her to the lingerie section, which was called “Intimates.” Good name, but not as good as “lingerie.” I enjoyed following her, too. The dress was one-shouldered, silver, short, and spangly. Best of all, a good eight inches in the middle was transparent. No spangles there, and she was shaped fine. And, yes, her thighs were as good as I’d imagined, too, strong but rounded. She wasn’t skinny like the model-girlfriend of the asshole had been, and that was all good with me. “Juicy,” you’d call those thighs, and she had some muscle tone in her bare arms and calves, too. All of her was tall, toned, and walking like she had somewhere to go and she made no excuses, and you bet I was following her.

She stopped next to a rack of the worst underwear in the place, and I said, “Do I comment, or do I not?”

“Do what you like,” she said. “I don’t have to listen.”

I had to laugh. “True. I can only imagine what you’re wearing now, that these white cotton granny panties look good to you.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I want to be completely unglamorous,very fast. But I’m just going to buy my regular kind.” She headed off and stopped at another rack.