Page 79 of A Spot of Trouble
“Well, this is awkward,” Violet said, cheeks blazing Sam’s new favorite color—cupcake pink. “You know, Sprinkles has been on her best behavior lately. This isyourdog’s bad influence.”
Thank you, Cinder.Sam arched a brow. “You think so?”
He could feel Violet’s heart crashing against his own, and he didn’t want to move. Not ever.
“Absolutely. Your Dalmatian is the one who tossed us into the bay and your Dalmatian went a little nuts today at the softball game, too.” Violet glanced at Sam’s mouth and then back toward his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that’s why you hit that bloop single.”
“How do you know I didn’t do that on purpose?” He dipped his head closer, close enough to brush his lips along the soft skin of her cheek. “Maybe I wanted softball season to go on forever.”
“You must really want to climb into that cupcake costume.” She took a deep breath, and her softness pressed more firmly against Sam’s chest. “Which is a good thing, because Sprinkles doesn’t need obedience lessons. She’s even started making my bed in the mornings. I didn’t have to teach her how. She just picked it up on her own. I told you she was naturally sweet.”
Violet tipped her face upward until her mouth was just a breath away from Sam’s. Every cell in his body was on fire, and there wasn’t a culinary torch in sight. He’d never longed for a kiss so badly in his life. But something she’d just said was fighting its way into his consciousness, wrestling for proper attention.
He pulled back a fraction of an inch. “Can you repeat that, please?”
“I said that Sprinkles is naturally sweet. I’ve been saying that all along.” Violet rose up onto her tiptoes, and her arms wound around Sam’s neck. “Now kiss me before I change my mind. I’m still quite furious with you.”
Just shut up and do as she says, idiot.But he couldn’t. A bad feeling had begun to crawl its way up his spine, and he needed to get to the bottom of things. “That’s not what I meant. I’m taking about the bed-making thing. When exactly did that start?”
“I tell you I want you to kiss me, and you want to talk about my dog?” Violet tried to take a backward step, but the dog leashes kept her tethered to Sam. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I don’t know…a week and half ago or so.”
“Right around the time we got drenched by the fire sprinkler at the senior center.” Sam shook his head. He couldn’t believe this, but it explained so much about Cinder’s bonkers behavior lately. “The day we lost sight of the dogs for a while, yes?”
“I guess so, why?” Violet glanced down at her Dalmatian.
“Because that’s not Sprinkles you’re looking at. That’s Cinder.” Sam shook his head. Those meddling retirees had gone too far. They’d crossed a line, big time. “Don’t you see? We’ve been tricked into falling for a Dalmatian impersonation. Mavis, Opal, and Ethel switched our dogs’ collars when we weren’t looking.”
Chapter 18
In retrospect, Violet really should have seen it. How had she not? Overnight, Sprinkles had gone from being her naughty, mischievous self to practically perfect in every way, à la Mary Poppins.
The bet was to blame, and Violet herself, obviously. She’d been so eager to believe that Sam was wrong about her Dalmatian—that Sprinkles was completely fine and lovable just the way she was and didn’t need any formal obedience training—that she’d somehow convinced herself that her sweet, spirited dog had transformed into a model Dalmatian on a dime.
It seemed so obvious, looking back. What she really didn’t understand was how Sam had failed to catch on to what was happening. In Cinder’s place, Sprinkles had wreaked havoc on his predictable, orderly life. Someone like Sam should have noticed right off the bat that something was wrong.
“I can’t believe I fell for this,” he said, as if echoing Violet’s sentiments. He scrubbed his hands over his face as he paced back and forth in front of Mavis’s little sofa.
The moment Sam shared his realization with Violet, they’d untangled themselves from the Dalmatians’ intertwined dog leashes and gone straight to the senior center. Something this dire couldn’t wait until morning. Now the Charlie’s Angels sat in a row on the loveseat in Mavis’s room, looking contrite and every bit their age in the fluffy terrycloth bathrobes and matching slippers that Violet had given them for Christmas the previous year.
“Please explain what you were thinking.” Violet threw her hands in the air, exhausted on every possible level. Would this awful night ever end? “How could you think that switching our dogs was a good idea?”
Mavis, Opal, and Ethel exchanged guilt-ridden glances.
“It was Mavis’s idea,” Ethel muttered.
“Oh, please.” Mavis rolled her eyes. “You act like I forced you and Opal into it.Youwere the one who called the firehouse and lured Sam here, or have you forgotten?”
Ethel cast a sheepish glance at Sam, who looked as tired as Violet felt. Cinder and Sprinkles, back in their proper collars, sat lumped together, yawning intermittently as if bored stiff by the entire episode.
Opal, sandwiched between Mavis and Ethel, held her hands out. “Stop bickering. All three of us are equally guilty. If one of us is going to get tossed into jail for luring Sam to the scene of the doggy crime, then all three of us are going.”
Mavis held out her wrists, ready to be strapped into invisible handcuffs. “Go ahead, Sam. Throw the book at us.”
“No one is going to jail, ladies,” Sam said.
Violet’s annoyance flared. “Excuse me?”
“Right.” Sam hung his head. “No oneelseis going to jail.”
