“Oh dear, no,” Annie said. “Diesel didn't say anything. I just have a sense of these things. What are you doing on Valentine's Day?”
“No plans so far. I guess Diesel and I will be finishing things up for you.”
“My word, you're not going to spend Valentine's Day with Diesel, are you?”
“I hadn't actually thought about it.”
“Not a good idea,” Annie said. “He's a heartbreaker.”
“We don't have that sort of relationship,” I told her.
“If you spend enough time in his company, the pheromones will wear you down… and the dimples.”
“Diesel has dimples?”
“Just ignore them,” Annie said. “And don't worry about your issue with commitment. As soon as I get out of jail, we'll have a good sit-down, and I'll solve that problem for you. Goodness, the answer is obvious. Clearly you belong with—”
And Annie was gone.
“Did she just disappear?” I asked Diesel.
Diesel was sunk into the couch. “I don't know. I wasn't watching. I've got hockey on, and the Rangers scored a goal.”
“Jeez,” I said. “That was weird.”
“Yeah, welcome to my world,” Diesel said, returning to the bag of chips. “Would you get me another beer?”
I opened my eyes and looked up at Diesel. He was dressed but unshaven, holding a mug of coffee.
“What time is it?” I asked. “And why are you in my bedroom?”
“It's six o'clock. Rise and shine, cutie pie.”
“Go away. I'm not ready to rise and shine.” Diesel shoved me over a couple inches, sat on the edge of the bed, and sipped his coffee. “We need to wrap this up before Annie gets restless again.”
“What on earth are we going to do at six in the morning?”
“I have plans.”
I pushed myself up on my elbow. “You're a real pain in the behind.”
“Yeah, people tell me that a lot. You look sexy with your hair all messed, and your eyes kind of sleepy. Maybe I should get under the covers with you.”
“What about the early start?”
“This wouldn't take long.”
“Easy for you to say. Get out of my bedroom and put an English Muffin in the toaster for me. I'll be out in a minute. And it would help if you'd feed Bob and take him out for a walk.”
I took a fast shower, blasted my hair with the hair dryer and pulled it back into a ponytail. I got dressed in a T-shirt and jeans and topped it off with a fleece hoodie.
Diesel was going over Annie Hart's files when I got to the kitchen.
“I fed Bob, and I walked him,” Diesel said.
“Did you remember to take a plastic bag for his poop?”
“Sweetheart, I don't do the poop-in-a-bag thing. It's impossible to look like a tough guy when you're carrying a bag of poop. And you might want to think about feeding him less, because apparently whatever goes into a dog comes out of a dog, and it isn't good.”