Page 59 of The Huckleberry Bookshop

Her sister laughed. “It’s called flirting. You should try it sometime.” She elbowed Athena, then nodded meaningfully toward Chad.

He looked up and called, “How do you sign ‘giraffe’? I can’t remember.”

Athena shrugged and the child’s mom appeared around the corner of a bookcase with her twins, making a gesture.

“Thanks.” Chad resumed reading.

Meddy said under her breath, “I like him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“And you do, even with those blinders on?”

“What?” She turned in surprise.

“You assume he’s another Lonnie, and he’s totally not.”

Athena considered that.

Truth? Yes.

Did she want to accept it? No, not really. Because if she did, then she might lose her heart.

She turned back to the espresso machine, shaking her head. Who was she kidding? Her heart had already packed its bags and was following Chad down the lane.

Mullens caught Athena yawning, her eyes tearing up as she did so. Outside, Armadillo Day had wound down, most of the booths on Main Street already dismantled and the food trucks either already gone or in the final stages of packing up.

He headed outside to collect several dishes that had been left on the two tables set on the sidewalk, keeping one hand cupped under the bundle of fur inside his sweatshirt. Next, he folded the sidewalk sign that announced the store’s grand opening.

“Hey,” Dylan O’Neill said, giving him a nod as he passed. His large black dog pulled on its leash hauling his teammate toward Mullens. “What are you doing in town? Didn’t see you in the parade.”

“I could ask the same of you.”

Leo, the rookie, had walked in the parade alongside their team mascot, Dezzie. The big dragon costume was always worn by Leo’s girlfriend, who lived in town. Mullens supposed it made sense that Violet should take part, but Leo? Why him?

Mullens leaned down to pet the dog, which squirmed and threw herself against his leg, knocking him back. A line of slobber pirouetted from the canine’s mouth, streaking down his jeans.

“Fish, no!”

Mullens frowned. “Your dog’s name is Fish?”

“I didn’t name her. Brant Wylder did.”

Brant. He’d failed to come back for his puppy. The one Fish had just discovered with her nose and was nudging insistently through the fabric of Mullens’ sweatshirt. The small dog squirmed and Mullens turned away, trying to calm the pup. “You seen Brant?”

The puppy’s head popped out the collar of Mullens’ shirt, and Dylan laughed. “No, but if he gave you that dog, good luck in handing it back.”

“What? No. I’m just holding him.”

“You need to spend more time around here.”

“I’m trying. But the rental listings Landon gave me were all out of date.”

Dylan smirked and began tugging on his dog’s leash. He lifted his chin. “Later.”

“Yeah. Later.” Mullens let his gaze track across the street and down to where Jenny Oliver’s shop had closed up for the night, lights off. “Guess you’re heading back to the city?”

“We’ll see.”

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