Page 2 of A Spot of Trouble
The dog let out a squeaky yawn and plopped into a down position at the fireman’s feet. Violet sighed as Sprinkles closed her eyes and rested her chin on the toe of his boot.
Seriously?
Sprinkles had developed Stockholm syndrome in a matter of minutes. Maybe it was a Dalmatian–fireman thing. Or maybe it had something to do with her kidnapper’s charmingly mussed dark hair and his startling green eyes. Bottle-green, like corked glass floating in the ocean with a secret love note hidden inside.
Not that Violet had noticed those things.
Much.
The dogs that had joined her on the chase down the shore definitely seemed to notice. They sniffed at the fireman’s feet, wagged their tails, and in general fawned all over him. When he crouched down to pet the corgi, the collective tail-wagging went into overdrive.
Honestly, the whole tableau was beginning to look like a page from one of those sexy firefighter calendars. Violet was aggressively annoyed.
“Just give me my dog, okay?” She sighed, hating the tiny hint of desperation in her voice. Clearly this man had no idea how much she loved her pup. “If you do the right thing now, maybe you won’t get arrested.”
“Arrested?” He stood, much to his canine fan club’s disappointment. Tails drooped. A poodle mix sporting pink bows on its ears let out a mournful whine. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”
Good grief, he was smug. She couldn’t wait for her dad or one of her brothers to show up and slap a pair of handcuffs on him. His perp walk was going to be a thing of beauty. Maybe she’d video it and put it on YouTube. Or TikTok, or Instagram stories, or whatever social media site the kids were using these days.
Violet herself wasn’t ancient. At twenty-eight, she was technically a millennial. But she taught gentle yoga at the senior center, which meant most of her closest friends used walkers. Naturally, she’d developed something of an old soul herself.
She glared at the firefighter, who looked light years from needing a walker. He could probably downward dog all day long without tipping over once. They held each other’s gazes for a beat or two—just long enough for Violet’s cheeks to go warm. Her insides were suddenly full of butterflies, which she attributed to the fact that she was currently the victim of a crime. Then the wail of a police siren pierced the loaded silence.
Violet shot the fireman a triumphant smile. “Not going to happen, huh? Keep telling yourself that, Cruella.”
***
Never in his life had Sam Nash been likened to a Disney villain.
On the contrary, people typically slotted him nicely into the Prince Charming camp. Sam wasn’t particularly fond of that label either, but he had to admit that it was preferable to being compared to a sinister diva with a fondness for Dalmatian fur and an unfortunate two-tone wig.
“Look,” he said to the obstinate woman who seemed intent on having him thrown in jail, “this is all nothing but a misunderstanding.”
But she didn’t appear to hear him because she was too busy waving wildly at the two uniformed police officers who’d just crested the dune and were headed in his direction.
Common sense told Sam he should be relieved at their presence. Maybe now he’d have an opportunity to explain himself. Between the three of them, maybe they could talk some sense into his accuser. But some strange instinct made him feel like his trouble was just getting started.
Sure enough, as the officers drew closer, Sam could see the scowls aimed squarely in his direction. The two cops had apparently already chosen a side in the Dalmatian war and it wasn’t his. His only supporters appeared to be the lingering dogs. A Lab mix nudged its head beneath his hand, angling for a scratch behind the ears.
With a sigh, Sam acquiesced.
He’d thought long and hard before picking up his life and moving to Turtle Beach. Everyone at his station back in Chicago thought he’d lost his mind.You’ll die of boredom,they had said. The only actual fires you’ll see are sparklers on the Fourth of July.
Sam hoped they were correct. He could use more boredom in his life. He craved it, actually. All he wanted was a quiet little existence in a quiet little seaside town. How had things managed to go so wrong so quickly?
He shifted his focus back to the flailing woman.Shewas the reason. No doubt about it.
His temples throbbed with irritation, and somehow the fact that he found the troublesome woman attractive irritated him even more. Not that he was remotely tempted to do anything about that attraction. Ever. It was just kind of hard not to notice the way the waves lapped at her feet as if she were some kind of furious moon goddess.
“Joe! Josh!” She let out a high-pitched squeal and threw her arms around the nearest cop. Sam had a sudden vision of himself behind bars. “Thank goodness you’re here.”
The officer who wasn’t currently being bear-hugged narrowed his gaze at Sam. “What seems to be the problem here?”
The retirees at the other end of the beach were now watching the scene with rapt interest.
“He’s got Sprinkles.” The woman pointed toward the spotted dog at the end of Sam’s leash. “He stole her when I wasn’t looking, and now he won’t give her back.”
“This isn’t your dog,” Sam said. It seemed important to get that little nugget of information out in the open before the discussion went any further, especially in light of all the police PDA.
