that need homes now that racing is being outlawed in most states.”
“Thank God,” she said. “It’s inhumane. We’ve had a few come through my uncle’s business, and they’ve all been sweet. Not quite this, uh, high-spirited, though.”
He smiled down at Tor, who was resting again. “He’s either on or off. There’s no in-between.”
“And when he’s on,” she joked. “Mall madness.”
He laughed. “Don’t even say that.” They held each other’s gazes for a second, then another, and suddenly…butterflies.
“So why do you have two last names, Pru?” he asked, the genuine interest in her making a few of those flying creatures dive-bomb. “’Cause your mom remarried?”
She sighed, looking down at the table and the twenty-dollar bill Yiayia had left, considering how easy it would be to simply offer to get food and not delve into her family history. Not that she was ashamed of her father, but it helped if a person had met him before they heard his background.
“It’s kind of a complicated situation.”
He gave a dry laugh. “These days? Whose isn’t? Tell you what.” He put his hand over hers, the touch light, but somehow still strong and reassuring. “You tell me your family mess, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“It’s not a mess,” she said quickly. “It’s just…oh well. You’ll hear it around school sooner or later.”
“I’m intrigued.” He scooted his chair a little closer, smiling. “And I promise I won’t judge.”
For a long moment, she looked at him, waiting for more butterfly shenanigans in her belly. But the feeling inside her wasn’t quite as nervous anymore, or even excited. Now she felt something completely different. More like friendship, but different. A connection, a budding trust, and oh yeah, all kinds of attraction.
Suddenly, she very much wanted to share her story, if only to see his reaction. Some people recoiled. Some people pitied. And yeah, plenty of people judged.
“My dad was in prison for fourteen years, and I didn’t meet him until he got out.”
His brows lifted. “Not what I would have guessed from the future valedictorian.”
Wow, he had been paying attention to her in school. “I was as surprised as anyone,” she said. “And he was in for…manslaughter.”
“You were surprised? You didn’t know where he was?”
For some reason, she liked that he didn’t react to manslaughter. “I didn’t know who he was,” she admitted. “I was raised by a single mom who was very discreet and quiet about my father.”
“Because he was in prison?” he guessed.
“She had no idea he was there,” she told him. “He stopped a man from attacking a woman in a parking lot when he was working as a bouncer at a bar. He accidentally pushed the guy, who hit his head and died. He didn’t, you know, set out to kill anyone. But my mom didn’t know any of this.”
“She didn’t wonder where he was?”
“They didn’t really know each other,” she admitted. “It was a one-night stand. In the back of a van designed for hauling around foster dogs.”
His eyes flashed, and that almost-smile threatened. “The dog thing runs deep, huh?”
She laughed with him, ridiculously pleased with the complete lack of judgment in his response. “But long story short? He showed up in Bitter Bark after he got out, needed a vet, hired my mom, and now…” She beamed at him. “They’re married, happy, and I have a baby brother named Danny.”
His jaw loosened. “Wow. That’s cool.”
She really loved that response. “Yeah, it is.” She glanced around, remembering that they were supposed to be RACKing up points and watching for FBI agents on a sting…not sitting here like they were on a date. “We forgot to watch for the guys coming out of the bathroom,” she reminded him.
“Totally distracted.” His look was a little smoky, but charming, too. Nothing like…well, like she expected. “But they haven’t come out.” He nodded toward the restroom entrance behind her. “I’m keeping an eye out for them. And what’s next on your RACKing list? Sing a few carols? Hand out free bottles of water?”
“I guess we could…” She reached for her bag, then stopped and looked at him. “Wait. You promised to tell me your family story if I told you mine.”
“Oh yeah.” He waved it off. “That’s not going to get us any points.”
“You’re not in this for points,” she said, studying him openly. “You need a community service hour or two to finish the semester.”
“Guilty, but now I’m all in. Let’s RACK, Kilcannon. Or, Bancroft.”
She smiled. “Okay…Darling.” As soon as she said it, she felt the