Page 222 of Daddy's Naughty List

“I don’t recommend that choice,” Melissa said meaningfully.

“Oh, yeah. I can just keep putting the reminder in my phone,” Tim agreed.

“Probably smarter,” Tami said with a laugh. “Back to poo business. Is there anyone else you’d like to ask to apply?”

“I apologize for interrupting,” a woman said from the table next to them. “I see your shirts. You have a business that cleans dog waste from yards?”

“I do. Here’s my card.” Tami handed her a shiny business card. “Do you need some help?”

“I actually need a job. I used to work at a dog rescue in town, but the owner passed away and his children don’t share his passion. I’d love to have a chance to work with animals again,” she said.

“It’s not a glamorous job,” Tami warned.

“That’s okay. Neither is cleaning out kennels or picking off ticks.”

Melissa watched Tami nod. The woman had her there. She looked nice. “Do you have any references?”

“Would my supervisor at the rescue be okay for a reference for how I handle dogs? There is also a vet I worked closely with on a few sad cases. I know he would vouch for me,” the woman said enthusiastically.

“I think you need to fill this out,” Tami suggested, drawing an application form from the file folder in front of her.

The woman took it from her with a smile and set it on the table before rummaging through her bag for a pen. “Could I ask how much you pay? I’m not looking for a lot. I just need to pay my rent.”

“Good question. Let me come talk to you and we’ll discuss all the details.” Tami stood up and moved over to the woman’s table.

“It sounds like she would be a good fit,” Tim suggested quietly.

“We’ll have to be careful about saying anything about being Little,” Melissa whispered.

“I don’t know. Did you notice her bag when she rummaged in there for something to write with?”

“No. Why? What did you see?”

“She has a stuffie. I think it was a raccoon, but it was pretty faded. I couldn’t see the colors well,” Tim shared.

“Like she’d had it for a while?” Melissa suggested, and Tim nodded.

The two looked at each other.

“That would be too much of a coincidence,” Melissa said.

“Maybe? But maybe not. I brought this pamphlet on PLAYTIME to show you. I got it from Sofia and Isabella. Their Daddy is the one who designed PLAYTIME. I thought it was neat because it has all sorts of statistics about the number of matches that have been made. I was silly and added one to each column since you and your Daddy are such a good combination.”

“Oh, that’s neat. Thank you, Tim.”

“We could drop it in her bag, so she finds it later. She wouldn’t know it was us. There’s so much stuff in that big purse. It might take her weeks to uncover it,” Tim suggested.

“She’ll just toss it if she’s not interested. If she is…” Melissa’s voice trailed off.

“If she is, another Little might find her match.”

“How do we do it?” Melissa asked. “You’re on the outside edge of the seat. Can you drop it in there?”

“I’m too far away,” Tim said, eyeing the distance.

“Stand up and let me out. I’ll go use the bathroom and, on the way, I’ll go behind her and drop the paper in her bag,” Melissa told him.

“Good idea!” Tim immediately slid out of the booth to let Melissa out. In seconds, it was done.

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