Page 57 of A Spot of Trouble
Right. Everyone knew the key to training a dog was consistency. Sam had slipped up, and Cinder was taking advantage of his lack of focus. It was a classic rookie mistake.
Never mind the fact that Sam wasn’t a rookie.
He drew himself up to his full height and looked at Cinder.
“Yesterday was…”Kind of great, actually.“…a mistake. Everything is back to normal now, got it?”
Cinder cocked her head, which Sam took as a sign of agreement.
He nodded. “Good.”
It had been one day. A single call. Surely he hadn’t undone years of training in a matter of an hour. Everything was going to be fine.
But when Sam strode back to the kitchen for some much needed caffeine, the coffee maker was stone cold and the pot was empty. He glanced toward his bedroom and sure enough, the bed wasn’t made either. Cinder, meanwhile, had stretched out in a sunny spot near the sliding glass door. Her paws were already beginning to twitch as she fell back asleep.
Sam groaned.Of course. Cinder’s sudden rebellion was all his fault, and not just because he’d left his Dalmatian unattended for a short while yesterday afternoon. For over a week now, he’d been trying to get her to relax at home—no more making the bed, no more turning on the coffee maker. His message had finally sunk in, and now she was confused about Sam’s expectations. Now that he’d realized what was going on, it was ridiculously obvious.
Sam had let Violet and her bonkers attempt to start a #FreeCinder movement mess with his head. For the past week and a half, he’d been systematically untraining his Dalmatian.
No more. Sam could make his own coffee and straighten his own bed covers, but when Cinder was on the job, she needed to behave. He couldn’t break any more rules, period.
Fortunately, Sam and Cinder had another children’s fire safety demonstration scheduled later in the week for a local surf camp. Cinder loved kids, and since their presentation was the new hot ticket on the island, she’d had plenty of practice lately. It should be a piece of cake.
Once he got to the firehouse, Sam busied himself with paperwork for the first half of the day while Cinder snoozed on her dog bed in the corner…mostly. Griff popped in mid-morning to see what time Sam wanted to head out to the batting cages after their shift, and Cinder pawed at his leg until he stopped what he was doing to give her a prolonged head-to-toe scratch.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “She’s in a mood today.”
Cinder rolled onto her back, and Griff rubbed her spotted belly. “Don’t apologize. It’s good to see her act like an actual dog for a change.”
Sam didn’t ask Griff what he meant by that comment. He didn’t have to—he knew. Sam just hoped his friend didn’t have a secret #FreeCinder T-shirt hidden in his locker.
He nearly said so, but before he could get the words out, Violet appeared in the doorway to his office.
A pink bakery box rested in her hands and she wore one of her girly retro dresses that fell around her in a whirl of white cotton, printed all over with ripe red cherries. Sprinkles—dressed in her pink cupcake collar, as usual—stood beside her, wiggling with glee.
“Knock knock.” Violet’s gaze swiveled back and forth between Sam and Griff. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Griff waggled his eyebrows. “If you’ve got cupcakes in that box, you’re definitely not interrupting.”
“Violet, hi.” Sam stood as if he were a flustered teenager greeting his prom date. “Come on in.”
Cinder jolted awake and cocked her head.
Yes, I know. I’ve got no game.
Once upon a time, Sam could interact with women without a second thought. Of course, that had been before he’d become a self-imposed emotional recluse.
He hadn’t been closed off for so long that he’d forgotten how to talk to people, though. And he’d clearly had no trouble whatsoever establishing a rapport with Hazel at the library. No, Sam’s social awkwardness was exclusive to Violet-centric interactions. Probably because every time they were together something crazy ensued, and the situation seemed to be getting worse instead of better.
Sam dreaded it almost as much as he looked forward to it.
“We’re on our way to the senior center,” Violet said, tipping her head toward Sprinkles. The Dalmatian leapt at Sam as if it had been a hundred days since she’d seen Sam instead of a mere eighteen hours. “I made some cupcakes early this morning and thought I’d drop some by.”
She set the box down on Sam’s desk and tucked a wayward mermaid curl behind her ear. “Earl Grey–lavender.”
Was it Sam’s imagination, or did Violet seem uncharacteristically nervous too?
He inhaled a ragged breath. She did, and that meant he wasn’t the only one experiencing feelings that were strictly off-limits. Something was happening between them—something that went beyond their initial love-hate attraction to one another. Violet felt it too. Sam would have bet money on it.
