Page 58 of A Spot of Trouble
“Thank you.” Sam grinned as he extricated himself from Sprinkles’s enthusiastic greeting to lift the lid of the bakery box.
A dozen cupcakes were nestled inside, richly scented with black tea, bergamot, and lavender and topped with a generous swirl of lilac-colored buttercream. A tiny string dangled from each small cake, affixed to a small paper label, giving the effect of teabag immersed in a china teacup. They looked too pretty to eat—painstakingly detailed, edible works of art.
Still, Sam’s stomach growled. He was only human. “These are incredible.”
Sprinkles dropped into a sit position, so nearby that her rump landed squarely on Sam’s left foot.
“I think someone is developing a little crush on you,” Griff said.
“Um…” Violet shook her head.
Sam nearly choked. “It’s not—”
“Relax, you two. I meant the dog.” Griff motioned toward Sprinkles. “That Dalmatian is looking at you like she’s the living embodiment of the heart eyes emoji, Sam.”
Violet shrugged. “Sprinkles loves everyone. That’s why she doesn’t need obedience lessons. She’s naturally sweet.”
Sam and Griff exchanged a glance.
“I’m serious. Sprinkles is a delight. Everyone in town thinks so,” Violet said.
Sam wasn’t about to disagree, lest she snatch the bakery box away like the last time she’d brought him cupcakes. Although he had to admit, while definitely overstimulated, at least Sprinkles hadn’t knocked anything off his desk or tried to ingest a Ping-Pong ball. Yet.
Griff cleared his throat. “Of course they do.”
Sam was grateful when his cell phone started to ring, vibrating across the surface of his desk, effectively putting an end to the awkward topic.
“Looks like someone from Chicago FD is trying to get ahold of you.” Griff frowned down at the display on Sam’s iPhone. “Hey, isn’t that your old department?”
Sam declined the call and shoved his phone in his desk drawer. Jameson Dodd had been texting him every other day about the fire marshal job back in Chicago, and Sam had yet to respond. Apparently, his old chief had now resorted to calling, which meant he was serious about luring Sam back to Illinois. Chief Dodd hated talking on the phone.
“I’m sure it’s nothing important.” Sam scrubbed at the back of his neck. He was beginning to sweat. His small office wasn’t meant for three people and two Dalmatians.
“I won’t keep you,” Violet said.
Stay. Please.Why couldn’t Griff take a hint and make himself scarce?
“Consider the cupcakes a thank you for not dragging Opal, Ethel, and Mavis off to fireman jail.”
Sam chuckled. “Fireman jail?”
“Yeah, that’s not a thing,” Griff said. “Violating the fire code is the same thing as breaking the law. Same fines, same penalties, same jail.”
“Oh, wow.” Violet’s forehead scrunched. “In that case, I should have made youtwodozen cupcakes.”
“This is more than enough.” Sam smiled, and warmth filled him like a fiery beach sunrise. He’d have given anything to be back on Mavis’s loveseat with Violet’s head resting on his shoulder again. “Thank you.”
“Wait a minute.” Griff pointed to Violet, then to Sam and then back to Violet again. “Aren’t you two supposed to be enemies?”
Sam ventured a cautious glance at Violet, and she blinked, seemingly speechless. There was a first time for everything, apparently.
“I—” Sam started to say.
I don’t think so.
They’d moved past all that, hadn’t they?
Cinder rose from her dog bed and went to stand beside Violet as if to imply that if Sam and Violet were on opposing teams, she fully intended to defect. Great, a Dalmatian desertion.
