Page 22 of Bad Girls Don't Marry Marines (Rock Canyon, Idaho 3)

Justin waited, walking around the lobby as he listened to her leave a message, knowing his tickets were gone even as she tried to make things right. When she went to call again, he stopped her. “Don’t worry about it.”

She paused with the phone in her hand. “I’ll try their house number.”

“If they call back, just let me know.” He turned to leave, but she called out to him.

“Wait a second, okay? Here, take this.” She held out the packet, and he shook his head.

“I don’t need to be set up, thanks.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then take a vacation with the free hotel and relax. And then, as an apology”—she paused to walk into the back, coming out with two tickets in her hand—“here. I was hanging onto these, but I feel really bad about what happened.”

Justin looked at the tickets and grinned. “Craig Morgan, huh?”

“Please accept our humblest apologies.”

“Okay, but seriously, keep the singles thing,” Justin tried again, but she just shook her head.

“I’ve got to get back and relieve Mark, but you enjoy your vacation.”

As she disappeared, her dog lumbering after her, Justin stared down at the packet and tickets in his hand. Overall, it wasn’t such a bad deal. And he had been wanting to get the hell out of town for a while. Elko wasn’t far from True Love, Nevada. He could always find something to do there.

Maybe you can ask Valerie to go out of town with you.

A weekend trip wasn’t dating, right?

VALERIE WAS IN for the fight of her life.

She’d dressed quickly after her shower so she could open the Happy Pets Grooming Salon by ten, knowing one of her most difficult clients was coming in.

People raved about the sweet temperament of Ragdoll cats, but as she stared across the room at Mrs. Wilson’s cat, Sweet Pea, Valerie knew firsthand that rumors about breeds weren’t always true. Despite her chosen profession, she had a few ideas about designer breeds, the first being that a mutt was a mutt. And Ragdolls were nothing but Himalayan/Siamese crosses.

This one in particular had the personality of a rabid cougar.

Mrs. Wilson knew Val couldn’t groom him without a sedative, but when she’d opened his carrier, instead of being limp, he’d flown out like a hissing, spitting fuzzball of fury. She’d backed off, trying to give him time to calm down, and called Mrs. Wilson, who’d apologized about forgetting the sedative. But Val had a feeling she was lying. Especially when she asked Val if she could try it without. Mrs. Wilson hated drugging her cat and complained every time Valerie reminded her to do it. The only reason she took the cat at all was because Mrs. Wilson was an old friend of her mom’s; she felt bad, but this was it. No more psycho kitty.

Now that Val was back in the room after that frustrating phone call, Sweet Pea was perched on top of the wall of cages, his blue eyes evil slits of death and his fluffy tail swishing over the side.

“Sweet Pea,” she sang in a high, baby-talk voice, “come on down, honey, and I’ll have Mommy bring you back another day.”

He answered her with a low, winding growl that ended in a scream loud enough to burst her eardrums.

“Are you killing a cat in here?”

Val whirled around to find Justin standing in the open doorway. “Quick, close the door.”

Justin stepped inside and shut the door, his gaze shifting between her and the irate feline. “What did you do to it?” The gray beanie pulled over his ears and its little brim was cute resting just above those lovely amber eyes. It had been a little over twelve hours since she’d seen him, but with the kiss fresh in her mind, he was an unwelcome distraction in a dangerous situation.

“Nothing yet. His owner ‘forgot’ to give him his sedative, and when I opened his carrier, he escaped.”

“Huh. Pretty cat.” Justin walked around the grooming table, closer to the cages, and crooned, “Hey there.”

Val watched in amazement as the damn cat’s ears perked forward and he watched Justin with curiosity.

“Was this lady picking on you?”

“Excuse me?” Val cried. Sweet Pea’s ears flattened and he looked at her with a glare, as if to say, stop talking.

“It’s okay, buddy; you come down and I’ll make sure your mommy knows to give you some tuna.” Justin’s voice and focus remained on the cat as he lifted up his arms. The stupid creature relaxed and inched forward, hopping down into Justin’s arms with a small meow.

---