Page 1 of In for a Treat

Chapter One

Olive

“Heel, Butterscotch.”

I pulled on the Border terrier’s leash, and the dog joined me at my side again. She looked longingly at the squirrel darting away toward one of the trees on Main Street, then gazed up at me with pleading eyes.

“Fine,” I said with a laugh. “Here’s your reward for not going after that squirrel.”

I got a fish treat out of the ziplock bag in my pocket and fed it to her. Butterscotch wagged her tail in gratitude while we continued our stroll. She was Mrs. Hudson’s dog and cute as a button, but she loved to chase everything from squirrels to rabbits. I often let her do exactly that when we were at the dog park. Unfortunately for Butterscotch, chasing things wasn’t on the itinerary today as I had to be at work in half an hour and still had to drop her off with her owner.

Not everyone in my hometown of Old Pine Cove had time to walk their own dog every day, so they hired me to help with that. In fact, Mrs. Hudson’s Butterscotch had been one of my first furry clients. The older lady couldn’t walk far anymore due to a bad hip. Two years later, her dog was still a regular, and the Border terrier and I went out together at least four days a week.

Yeah, I was catching tail all right, but unfortunately not in the way I wanted to. My obsession with dogs scared most guys off, although I wouldn’t call it an obsession per se, but rather a fierce passion. That, combined with fact that I lived at home up until last week, even though I was already twenty-five, seemed to repel all the cute guys.

To be honest, I didn’t see a problem with living at home until my mid-twenties, but my mom did. She claimed it would be unhealthy for me if I kept living there. She wouldn’t stop sending me listings of rentals in the neighborhood, no matter how nice or crappy they were. If the space was for rent – even if said space was nothing more than a creepy attic or a dusty garage box – Mom would state it was the best housing opportunity ever. Every time I told her I didn’t feel like living in a garage, she waved my remark away, mumbling something about “kids these days.”

The night I announced I had found an apartment to rent, my dad cracked open a bottle of wine and shoved a tray of appetizers in the oven while Mom called all her friends to share the news. I hadn’t seen my parents that cheerful in a long time. Were they bursting with excitement about me starting a new phase in my life, or was it more a case of “thank goodness we finally have the house to ourselves again”? I didn’t know and honestly, didn’t even want to know.

Butterscotch barked, and I turned to see who or what had caught her attention. Across the street, a slate-gray car with tinted windows rolled into the parking lot of Pine Paw Prints, the animal clinic.

I lowered my sunglasses. Huh. That must be the new vet. Everyone in town had been dying to meet this mystery guy. All we knew was Mr. Kline had sold the clinic to someone who didn’t live in Old Pine Cove. No matter how many times I had tempted him with free coffee, Mr. Kline wouldn’t budge. He said we’d have to find out for ourselves.

I hoped to catch a glimpse of the newcomer, but the barking next to me made it clear I had to get a move on. The last thing I wanted was the new vet thinking I was a dog-walker who couldn’t handle a barking dog. I had a reputation to uphold, and if things turned out well, I might ask him to drum up some business for my dog walking services. Before retiring, Mr. Kline used to recommend me to all of his patients’ owners, and I hoped the new vet would do the same.

I resumed walking in the direction of Mrs. Hudson’s house and gently tugged at Butterscotch’s leash. She couldn’t stop staring at the vet’s practice.

“Come on, girl, we need to get you home,” I said. “I’ve got lattes with whipped cream and espresso shots to serve.”

The dog’s ears perked up at the mention of whipped cream, and I laughed. When she realized I wasn’t going to offer her a plate of whipped cream right then and there, she barked in protest.

“I know,” I said with a sigh. “It’s hard wanting something you can’t have. Or, in my case, can’t afford.”

Living on my own had certainly changed things for me. Where before I bought the newest dog tarot card decks on release day, top-notch salmon dog treats and canine toys without even blinking, I now had to settle for off-brand candy and DIY toys made from old rags. My rent wasn’t outrageously high, but neither was my part-time wage at the local coffee shop, Sip’nBean.

“Olive,” someone with a syrupy voice called out to me as Butterscotch and I crossed the street.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Melissa making her way over to me. My shoulders tensed. Why, dear mother of salmon dog treats, why?

“Oh, hey, Melissa,” I said. The smile that spread across my face was as fake as her eyelashes.

She motioned her head in the direction of Pine Paw Prints. “Did you see the new vet arriving? I tried to catch him to introduce myself, but I was too late. The doors were closed already. I wonder what he looks like. Do you think he’ll be one of those doctors who wears glasses? Because I don’t like that.”

Talking fast without waiting for a reply was Melissa’s usual way of communication, so I waited a beat before answering.

“What’s wrong with wearing glasses?” I asked, pushing mine higher up my nose. “People who wear them only want to be able to see, you know.”

She circled her hand in front of my face. “Oh, I’m not talking about you specifically. Besides, I know you can’t help it, but it’s a well-known fact that glasses make most people unattractive.”

One of my eyebrows shot up in irritation. “I’ve seen you wear glasses. What does that make you?”

Melissa smiled and nodded at me, pointing a finger at her temple. “Smart, that’s what it makes me. Mine are not ordinary glasses, they’re blue-light blocking glasses.”

“Blue light?”

“That’s right, the kind a computer screen emits,” she said with a tone as if talking to a toddler. “I don’t expect you to know this since all you do all day long is pour coffee, but they’re an amazing asset for people like me.”

Arrogant snobs?I wanted to ask but knew better.

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