Page 7 of A Spot of Trouble
Across the street, one of her brothers’ fellow officers exited the police station and came to an abrupt halt when he caught sight of her. The donut in his hand fell to the ground.
Super. This was already turning into another embarrassing episode.
“We’re fine!” She waved at the policeman. “Just dropping off some cupcakes. No cause for concern.”
Translation:please don’t run and tell my dad and brothers.
The last thing she needed was for her family to come marching over here as if she were a hostage.
“Sprinkles, please. Just listen for once. There’s a vanilla bacon maple cupcake with your name on it if you’ll just follow me into the firehouse and stick by my side for moral support,” Violet whispered.
The promise/bribe worked, thank goodness. Sprinkles sprang forward and bobbed happily at the end of her leash as Violet pushed through the red door. She didn’t normally feed her dog cupcakes, for the record. Desperate times and all that.
“Violet.” Griff Martin blinked hard from his seat in the dispatch area when he caught sight of her. “Um…what are you doing here?”
He looked past her, no doubt expecting her to be accompanied by Joe, Josh, or other various members of the TBPD.
She raised her chin. She was a grown woman, and she could take care of herself and get her life back on track all on her own. “I’m here to see the new fireman. We had a little misunderstanding earlier this morning.”
“Look.” Griff held up his hands. “I told him to give the dog back and he insisted it wasn’t yours.”
“Oh, I know.” Violet tipped her head toward Sprinkles. “Sprinkles is fine, see?”
Griff’s gaze narrowed. “They really do look an awful lot alike, don’t they?”
Thank you!She shot him a victorious grin. “Yes, they do.”
Sprinkles was cuter, though. Obviously.
“Can you just tell him I’m here?” She glanced down at the pink bakery box in her hands and then back up at Griff’s bewildered face. “I have a little peace offering for him. It was the least I could do after his near-arrest. I’ll just give it to him, and then we’ll be on our way.”
“Hoo boy. Near-arrest?” Griff winced. “I’m not even going to ask. Sam’s getting set up in his new office. Follow me.”
He rose from his creaky office chair and led Violet toward the common area of the firehouse, where her appearance in enemy territory brought everything to an immediate standstill. No one moved. Or breathed. Or uttered a word. A firefighter who Violet recognized as the Hoses’ first baseman spilled coffee down the front of his shirt from a ceramic mug that readWTF Where’s the Fireas he gaped at her. A pair of firemen on opposite sides of a Ping-Pong table froze comically in place while their tiny white ball bounced across the room.
Sprinkles’s toenails click-clacked against the tile floor as she scrambled after it, nearly jerking Violet’s arm out of the socket in the process. The bakery box came perilously close to slipping from her grasp. She managed to keep hold of it long enough for Sprinkles to trot back to her side with the Ping-Pong ball in her doggy mouth.
“Here you go,” Griff said, stopping at a closed door situated behind two neat rows of leather recliners facing an enormous flat-screen television. “This is the new guy.”
“Thanks.” She pasted on a smile. “I’ll take it from here.”
“My pleasure.” Griff gave Sprinkles a scratch behind her ears and headed back toward the dispatch desk.
Violet pretended not to notice the warning glares he shot at the other firemen as he passed through the common area, but a ribbon of relief wound its way through her as they stopped openly staring at her.
Okay.She took a deep breath and knocked.Here goes nothing.
“Come in,” someone growled from the other side of the door. She would’ve recognized that cranky tone anywhere.
Violet wondered why he had an office. From what she knew about firemen—which was more than she cared to admit—they didn’t sit at desks all day. In fact, the last time she’d darkened the door of the firehouse, Chief Murray had been the only member of the department who’d had an actual office. His was located just off the galley-style kitchen, and a quick glance confirmed it was still there.
Whatever. She just needed to make nice and hand over the cupcakes so she could go back to the dog beach with her head held high.
She opened the door and stepped inside, where the aforementioned grumpy fireman sat bent over the most meticulously organized desk Violet had ever set eyes on. A desk plate with the wordsSam Nash, Fire Marshalon it was placed near the edge of the smooth wooden surface. Oh right, he was a fire marshal, not a regular fireman. That explained the office. Four fountain pens were lined up neatly beside his name plate, spaced apart at perfectly equal distances. The file in front of Sam contained a stack of paper so pristine that it looked like he’d just taken it off the printer. Not a crease in sight.
Sprinkles’s identical twin rested on a fire engine–red dog bed in the corner of the room, regarding Violet with soft brown eyes.
“Hi,” Violet said.
