Page 64 of Worst in Show

Thanks for the pumpkins, he says. It looks great. Can’t believe you did that.

I look up, and there he is inside his store, smiling at me. He has his phone in one hand and a round broom in the other, bristles up as if he’s channeling his inner witch.

Me: Thanks for the hay.

Leo: I’ll have no choice but to dress up now, won’t I?

Me: Aren’t you already?

He sends me a question mark.

Your current witch cosplay, I clarify. Or what’s with the broom?

His response takes a few seconds. In case something needs sweeping obviously.

The bristles need to face down for that to work.

The three dots appear then stop.

I knew it. You’re worried Cinderella’s little helper will decide to return to the scene of the crime, aren’t you?

No, he texts right away. Then, A little. How far away did you set the mouse loose?

Far enough, I reassure him. And I’m only a stone’s throw away should you need my bravery once more.

Okay fine. I’m putting it down. He looks at me across the street, places the broom on the floor right inside the doors of his store, and backs away as if I’ve disarmed him. Then he’s back to typing. How’s Boris doing?

“Changing topics, are we?” I say out loud. Tired, but moving around again. No great harm done.

That’s a relief. I might stop by with a treat for him later if that’s okay.

My stomach does a weird loop the loop, but before I can respond, Customer—gotta go pops up on my screen, and sure enough, I look up to catch a party of four entering Canine King. I don’t have time to mope about it though because, a moment later, I’m busy with customers of my own.

After closing, I finish putting in orders while eating instant ramen at the table upstairs. All my seasonal pumpkin-flavored foods and treats have flown off the shelves as if the obsession with pumpkin spice lattes extends to include the family pooch, and there’s still another week to go before October 31. I’ve just closed my laptop when there’s knocking on the front door of the shop. For once I remembered to close and lock up on time, and I get stragglers?

I move gingerly down the stairs in my sasquatch fuzzy socks, speeding up when I see Leo outside.

He must see my quizzical look because he holds up a small bag. “Treats for Boris.”

I unlock and open the door. “I didn’t think you were actually going to come.”

“Why not?”

“Come in.” I head upstairs, and he follows. Cholula is perched, teeth bared, at the landing, so I scoop her up and place her on a cushioned chair by the table. “Be quiet. We don’t growl at our friends.” I turn to Leo. “I guess I figured you’re busy. People say things.”

“If I say I’ll bring treats, I’ll bring treats.” He hands me the bag and moves out of the way as I clear a pile of dog capes off a chair. After he sits down, he does a not-so-stealthy inspection of the space I currently call home.

“What do you think?” I ask, observing him carefully. His place is a luxury penthouse compared to this. I’ve strung up fairy lights behind the curtains to add ambiance, but that only goes so far.

He does a floor-to-ceiling sweep again. “It’s nice.”

I purse my lips. “You don’t have to lie. It’s a tiny hole of a place. A supply closet basically.”

“Yeah, okay, it’s a little cramped. I think Diane’s truck could fit everything in here.”

“It’s like an airplane bathroom and a storage bin had a love child together.”

“But the bed alcove is cute.” His eyes glitter. “If you’re a hobbit.”

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