While Matt cooked dinner, Vic showered. The dog sat in the doorway near the stove, one eye on Matt in case he dropped anything to eat, one ear c****d toward the bathroom door. Vic finished before Matt began assembling the tacos, so Sadie rushed down the hall at full speed, buying Matt a few precious moments without her underfoot. He managed to transfer the ground beef into the taco shells before she came racing back, Vic trailing behind her wearing his worn flannel robe and smelling faintly of Irish Spring.
“Should have warned me we’d be having tacos,” Vic muttered, getting himself a glass of iced tea from the fridge. “I would’ve held off on the shower until after I’d eaten.”
“Second shower never hurt anyone.” Once Matt finished filling the tacos—three for him, the other nine in the pa
