Page 28 of Love in Mission City
I grinned. I didn’t mind being scanned. Because he clearly liked what he saw. If he’d been judging me for the color of my skin—as happened sometimes—I wouldn’t have smiled.
He grinned back. “Your dogs are adorable.”
“Oh.” The words were on the tip of my tongue to deny ownership, but I figured I’d likely never see the guy again. And as cute as he was, all windswept hair and stunning blue eyes, he wasn’t my type. I was all about dark-brown eyes and shaggy black hair.
“I’m here to get food for my dad’s Pomeranian.” He grinned. “Maybe we can have a dog party sometime.”
“Uh…maybe?”
“My dad just lives a couple of blocks from here. Okay, like a mile or so. But we could walk and meet in the middle…”
“Uh…maybe?”
“Let me give you my business card. It’s got my cell. Text me anytime. I’m Jackson, but the way.”
“Carter. I’d shake your hand—”
Sheffield yipped. Then pulled. Finally, he barked.
“Guess he’s fed up with us talking.” After tucking his business card into my pocket, Jackson winked. “Text me, okay?”
“Sure…” No sense trying to explain these weren’tmydogs.
“Oh, Sheffie and Rosie, how lovely to see you.”
A curvy woman with the widest grin I’d ever seen approached the dogs. She wore an apron with the store’s logo, so it made sense she knew them. I was glad their owner brought them here.
She finally glanced up at me—after having lavished Sheffield with great affection and even managing to scritch Rosebud behind the ears. “And you are?”
“A friend?”
She cocked her head. “Of Byron or his dogs?”
“Both?”
A laugh burst from her. “I’m Gallia.” She moved a little closer. “You met Jackson, eh? Quite a catch. And so sweet to his dad.” She straightened and met my gaze.
Did she assume I was gay? Or bi? Or interested?
Two out of three wasn’t bad. Not really interested. Still, I thought of the guy’s business card in my jacket pocket. “I’m here for Sheffield and Rosebud.” Rosie might be okay, but Sheffie was a hardnofor me. The little guy was just too dignified. Even as I had the thought, though, he leapt as high as Gallia’s waist.
“Oh dear.” Gallia stepped toward the counter.
A foul stench reached my nose. I glanced down.Oh dearindeed. I tried to get out a baggie. No way Gallia had missed Rosebud taking an inelegant—and large—dump right in the aisle of the store.
Jackson, carrying a massive bag of dog food, stopped short. “Oh crap.”
“You can say that again.”
I was still struggling with the baggie when Gallia reappeared. She had the poop in a baggie within moments. She tied it off, sprayed the floor, and used a paper towel to wipe everything up. Then she dumped everything into a garbage container with a lid. She squirted on some hand sanitizer and rubbed it in. “All taken care of.” She glanced at me and probably read my embarrassed expression. “Happensallthe time. Rosie hasn’t before, but now she’s christened the floor. Do you mind if I help Jackson first and then we can chat?”
“Uh, no.”
“Great.” She pivoted, picked up a handheld scanner, and had the barcode Jackson angled toward her scanned in a second. Shescanned the phone he held out, and moments later she had a receipt for him.
He snagged it, offered her a smile, sent me a bit of a lascivious grin, and headed out.
“Do you need me to hold…?” I was trying to figure out how to wrangle two dogs and hold the door.
