Page 13 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
“So you met the new guys?” Caleb asks me gruffly, a coffee machine behind him announcing a finished espresso.
“Damn.” I chuckle and walk right past him. “Word travels fast. Can’t a guy sit down for his after-work coffee first?” I ask over my shoulder as I slide into my usual booth, beckoning my dog along. “Come on, Jensen Ackles.”
“I still can’t believe your dog is named after an actor.”
“Look at him. The resemblance is uncanny.” Caleb rolls his eyes at me, but I shrug it off.
I first saw a video of him online a few months ago, so thin he could barely stand up and fur riddled with ticks. One whimper and I knew instantly that brown husky with the sad eyes was my soul dog. When I finally got to meet him, it was love at first sight. He already had this name then, thanks to his foster mom being a huge fan of the actor.
I tried to get him to respond to Loki, but he wouldn’t have it, and there were far more pressing matters, such as getting him to a proper weight. So, Jensen Ackles it is, and now he might be the most spoiled dog in the county.
I truly think adopting him was my destiny. From being raised by parents who were famous for taking in strays, saving even the most hopeless cases, to becoming a vet and carryingon their legacy by saving animals like Jensen. Those who have been discarded, left to die by the people who were supposed to love and care for them. Those who experience the kind of cruelty only humans can show.
They say dogs resemble their owners, and I can’t deny that with Jensen. But Caleb? If he were a dog, he’d be a German shepherd. He always sports a grim expression, and he is constantly alert and in tune with all his senses. If something is off, he’ll know it before anyone else and be ready to step in.
Yet, I’m sure that somewhere behind those sharp cheekbones and lady-killer scruff, there’s a giant golden retriever hidden in him.
“Better than naming him after me,” I retort, shooting him a pointed glare, considering I’m sitting in a café called Caleb’s. “Henry Mason the Second doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it?”
“Touché.” He sits down with a sigh, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and watches me with that unnerving, emotionless stare of his.
“So?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I can’t believe he’s nosy. Mr.I don’t give a fuck about gossipis curious about the town’s newbies.
“She’s pretty,” I mumble, averting my gaze as heat crawls into my cheeks.
“Pretty” is almost understated—she was fucking stunning. Even with mascara smudged on her cheeks, messy hair, and her nervous ranting. “I’m sure you’ll see her around soon.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” he asks, lifting his eyebrow slightly, and I shake my head.
“Really? You’re prying for information without even giving me coffee first? What lousy service in this establishment.”
“You know I’m closed already.” He shoots me a glare that comes from the depths of his soul.
“Don’t try to kill me with a look. Jensen Ackles will avenge me.”
“Nope, Jensen loves me.” Caleb leans down, adjusting his cap to keep it from falling off. And, of course, my dog immediately perks up when Caleb begins to pet him and licks his hand. “Who’s a good boy?”
“Traitor,” I whisper, making Caleb’s eyes soften. “Don’t get cocky. Jensen loves everyone. Now, get your hands off my dog and get me a coffee.” He shoots me another sharp glare until I add, “Please.”
Only minutes later, he’s back with my signature cappuccino decorated with a white middle finger on the foam and a biscuit on the side.
“Thank you,” I say pointedly, and pop the biscuit into my mouth.
“So?” He lifts his eyebrow expectantly, and I sigh, motioning for him to sit down again.
“Okay. But you need to keep this on the down low.” He lifts his eyebrow, unimpressed. Caleb is not one to gossip. He’s not even one to listen to gossip, even though he’s right at the center of it. Whatever happens in Wayward Hollow, itwillbe talked about right here, within these four exposed brick walls.
Like when the first person moved into the lakeside mansions. Kieran. All tattoos and the dark, brooding type, but only on the outside from what I’ve heard. I haven’t met him beyond a quick introduction a few weeks ago.
Nobody knows where he came from or what exactly he does, but, boy, there sure is a lot of speculation. I remember precisely how Courtney, the owner of the flower shop two houses down, sat right by the window and all but shouted her theory into her phone as she told her sister. She lives overseas and judging by how loudly Courtney likes to talk during their calls, I think she’s trying to eliminate her phone as the conversation-middleman.
She thinks Kieran is a mobster hiding from law enforcement. Since he is tall, muscular, has dark hair, tattoos, and is giving a bad boy vibe, that was her best guess.
God, I love this small town and its nosy people.
“She rushed into the clinic earlier,” I tell Caleb, after scanning the room to ensure we’re alone. I enjoy our town gossip as much as the next person, but losing a pet is not something that should make the rounds. “Had a cat with her, which, sadly, was a hopeless case. The poor thing got hit by a car—” I take a sharp breath and gulp, wrapping my tense fingers around my mug. It never gets easier to lose an animal. “There was nothing I could do but end the pain for her.”
