Chapter Eleven
We headed up to the house after that, Dutchie dancing around Jason, tail wagging and tongue lolling as if her long-lost best friend had just come home.
“I hope you’re a dog person,” I told him as we went in the front door.
“I am, actually. There were always a lot of dogs on the pueblo. I didn’t have one of my own, since I was living in an apartment about half the time, but — ” He broke off, pausing a few paces inside the entryway. His expression was so awestruck that at first I thought he was impressed by the house, which didn’t surprise me too much. It was pretty impressive. But then he said, “Is that bread?”
“It is,” I said, adding, “and I hope I haven’t just burned it.”
I jogged into the kitchen, Dutchie tagging along at my heels, since of course the kitchen was her
