Page 28 of A Spot of Trouble
Except it wasn’t just one trick. Sam and Cinder had clearly come prepared. Once he assured the assembled retirees that he and the TBFD had come up with a workable plan for the following bingo night, Sam launched into his fire safety spiel. Immediately, Violet realized she’d underestimated her nemesis. Big time.
“Cinder.” Sam looked down at his Dalmatian, who gazed up at him with adoration. “What phone number should people dial when they smell smoke?”
Cinder let out nine sharp barks in rapid succession, paused, barked once, paused again, and then woofed one last time.
“That’s right, girl. 911.” Sam gave the dog a tender scratch behind her ears.
Violet’s mouth fell open in astonishment. The seniors burst into applause, and the sudden commotion prompted Sprinkles to hop to her feet and howl like a coyote.
Not now, Sprinkles. Please.
“Cinder, what should people do if their clothing catches fire?” Sam crossed his arms and angled his head toward his dog.
The smarty pants Dalmatian dropped to her belly and rolled over—once, twice, three times.
“Good girl,” Sam gushed. “That’s exactly right. Stop, drop, and roll.”
Another chorus of cheers followed, and Sprinkles’s entire back end wagged. Even Violet gave a reluctant clap.
“Cinder, can you show the folks the best way to exit a burning building?” Sam tapped his pointer finger against his temple like he might be struggling to think of something.
Cinder immediately dropped to her belly again and did a commando crawl across the floor.
Sam nodded. “Good dog. Stay low and go. Smoke rises, so it’s best to stay as close to the ground as possible and make a quick exit.”
The seniors whooped and hollered. To Violet’s horror, she spotted Mavis banging the legs of her walker against the floor—the elderly version of a stomp cheer, apparently. Others followed along, and soon the entire senior center was practically quaking with love for Marshal Sam and his insanely talented canine sidekick.
In the midst of the commotion, Sam’s gaze fixed with Violet’s and his lips twisted into a cocky grin. A boyishly charming set of dimples flashed in his sculpted face, mocking her. Ugh, he was even more handsome without the scowl he wore all the time like it was part of his uniform.
Violet longed for the rumbling floor to split open and swallow her whole, much like Sprinkles had done to one or more cupcakes on bingo night. Now she knew what all the flirting and winking had been about, even after Sam had seen her #FreeCinder shirt. She’d been hoodwinked. The demise of bingo night was rapidly becoming a distant memory. He hadn’t just come here to apologize. He’d come with a well-formed agenda.
And part of that agenda had clearly been to give Violet a full-blown Dalmatian education.
Chapter 7
“You’ve gone from being the bingo villain of Turtle Beach to dethroning Violet March as the unofficial town sweetheart.” Griff shook his head as he sat on the bench beside Sam on the first official day of Guns and Hoses. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
Sam frowned into the emerald-green distance of the softball diamond. They were in the top of the third inning, and the TBFD was up to bat. Cinder sat right alongside the firefighters waiting for their turn on deck.
“Please don’t say that. I’m hardly a sweetheart,” Sam said.
He’d readily admit that he’d enjoyed the fire safety demo at the senior center a bit too much. When Cinder barked out 911, the look on Violet’s face had been priceless. The way her mouth dropped open had bordered on comical, although there’d been nothing funny about the exaggeratedthump-thumpof his heart as he’d delighted in the fact that he’d managed to surprise her.
Why had one-upping her felt so good? He was above the petty feud that they’d somehow created. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Violet was too. Anyone who volunteered five days a week at a retirement home couldn’t be a terrible person, no matter how much chaos her Dalmatian could cause. Before Sam left the senior center, he’d caught a glimpse of the activity calendar posted on the door to Barbara Nichols’s office. Violet’s gentle yoga class was adailyevent, Monday through Friday. And that didn’t even include her weekly support of bingo night. From what Sam heard around the firehouse, she’d been running the concessions stand for years. Now that her cupcake business had taken off, she donated half of all the proceeds on bingo night to whatever pet cause the seniors supported. This summer, they’d chosen improvements at the dog beach in honor of Violet’s happy-go-lucky Dalmatian.
“Sweetheart or not, you’re the new town favorite, especially after today.” Griff pulled his TBFD baseball cap down low over his face.
“We haven’t won yet,” Sam countered. “In fact, we’re down by a run.”
It had only taken half an inning for Sam to understand why Chief Murray had been so desperate to recruit Sam from Chicago and get him on the team. The TBFD wasterribleat softball. No wonder the police department had beaten them the previous year. The pitcher threw more homers than Sam could count. Granted, they were playing slow pitch and the pitching was all done underhand, but still. Had they ever heard of spin? Or a knuckleball?
The hits wouldn’t matter if the firefighters in the outfield could catch, but that wasn’t happening with any regularity either. A couple of times, Chief Murray and the TBFD driver engineer had smacked into each other going after the same fly ball. Sam himself had hit a homer every time he went up to bat, but he was only one person. He couldn’t single-handedly win the game.
“I have to ask.” Sam turned toward Griff and lowered his voice so the other firefighters waiting for their turn at bat wouldn’t overhear. “Have we always been this bad?”
Griff grimaced. “You noticed, huh?”
“Kind of hard not to,” Sam said as the latest firefighter up to bat swung and missed.
