She shrugged. It hadn’t. “I try to avoid running whenever I can.”
“What about common sense? Do you try to avoid that too?” he snapped.
Now he was just being mean.
Mr. Steele obviously thought so too because he turned to give Spike a quelling look. “Spike.”
She gave Mr. Steele a big smile.
He gave her a small one back. “Right, then what happened?”
Millie pulled out her stun gun. “I let him get close to me, then I zapped him. I thought about using the pepper spray but I didn’t want it getting in anyone else’s eyes.”
“You used a stun gun?” Mr. Steele said slowly. “And you also have pepper spray. On you?”
“In my handbag, see??
?? She walked over to where she’d put her handbag on one of the tables. She reached in and drew out a sleeping Mr. Fluffy. Maybe she should take him to the vet. He seemed to sleep a lot. Then again, he was a puppy.
“Is that . . . a dog?” Mr. Steele asked, sounding incredulous.
“Isn’t he so cute?” Chardonnay cooed as she reached for him, pulling him into her breasts.
Mr. Fluffy gave her a look that said, why did you wake me for this?
She had to bite her lip. “Ahh, yes, this is Mr. Fluffy. I’m not sure what sort of dog he is yet.”
“You brought a dog into my strip club?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?” She looked over at Mr. Steele. “Oh dear, I didn’t think about that. Are dogs allowed in here?”
He shook his head, appearing dumbfounded.
“I’m sorry. I won’t bring him next time.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Spike grumbled. She didn’t know why he was so grumpy. She figured it was just his personality as she was certain she hadn’t done anything to annoy him.
As Chardonnay cuddled a clearly disgruntled Mr. Fluffy, she drew out her pepper spray and her rape whistle and set them down by her stun gun.
“Anything else in your arsenal?” Mr. Steele asked.
“Well, there’s my gun but I forgot to put bullets in it again,” she explained.
“You have a gun?” Spike asked in a strange voice.
“Yes. Why? Did you want to see it?” She pulled out her Smith & Wesson.
“It’s pink.” There was something odd with his voice. Was he coming down with something? Maybe she should offer to make him some of her grandma’s honey and lemon drink. Guaranteed to cure all ills. Then again, maybe not considering he was so rude. She only made that for people who were nice.
Oh, who was she kidding. She’d make it for him if he wanted it.
“Isn’t it pretty? Mr. Spain had to special order it for me and we picked it up from the next town over since we don’t have a gun shop in Nowhere.”
“Nowhere?” Mr. Steele asked.
“It’s where I’m from. Nowhere, Nebraska.”
“Interesting name,” Mr. Steele commented.