Page 18 of A Spot of Trouble
He pronounced the number four like the wordfoe, which for some reason seemed hilarious to Sam. He stifled a grin while Violet broke a small chunk off a cupcake decorated to look like a B4 bingo ball and bent down to offer it to his Dalmatian.
“Thanks again, but no,” he whispered. “Cinder is working.”
Violet straightened and narrowed her pretty mermaid eyes. “It’s not chocolate, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know better than to feed dogs chocolate cupcakes. This is just simple Bavarian cream.”
Sam’s stomach growled, and Cinder cocked her spotted head. Bavarian cream didn’t seem simple in any way, but damn if it didn’t sound delicious. “I believe you, but it doesn’t matter what flavor it is. Cinder can’t have treats of any kind while she’s working.”
“But she’s a dog,” Violet said, dropping the whisper altogether. “That’s just mean.”
A nearby bingo player shushed her, and her cheeks went as pink as the cupcake atop her silver Airstream.
“It’s not mean,” Sam whisper-screamed. “It’s professional. She’s a working dog.”
“It’ssupermean.” Violet popped the bite of cupcake meant for Cinder into her own mouth. Then she licked a dollop of frosting from one of her fingertips, and Sam was momentarily spellbound.
“You, Sam Nash, are a meanie,” she hissed.
“B eleven. That’s B. One. One,” the caller shouted.
Sam let out a laugh. “Did you just seriously call me a meanie?”
This wasn’t second grade. They were grown adults.
“Shhhh.” A nearby retiree—yet another member of #TeamViolet—glared at Sam.
“I did.” Sprinkles’s mischievous head popped up from the other side of the counter to snatch a treat from the tray and then disappeared. Violet’s cheeks went a shade or two brighter than cupcake pink. “See? Dogs like treats, especially Dalmatians. Even if they’re working dogs. I suppose you don’t let her have a paycheck either?”
“That’s not how it works,” Sam said flatly.
Violet looked down at Cinder and then back at him. “So she’s basically slave labor.”
How was he having this absurd conversation?
“I feel for her.” Violet shook her head. “She’s obviously deeply unhappy, having to stand beside you and act like a robot all day long.”
“A robot?” Sam heard his own voice rise above the tumble of bingo balls in their spinning wire cage. “She’s not a machine, she’strained. You might want to look into that yourself.”
“Ouch,” the bingo caller said into his microphone.
“You know what?” Violet’s eyes glittered. “Cinder is the perfect name for your Dalmatian.”
“Because I’m a fireman.” Sam sighed.Here we go again.He’d never met anyone who loathed firefighters at all, much less with this particular brand of intensity.
“No.” Violet shook her head and smiled sweetly at him.Toosweetly. “Because it’s short for Cinderella, and the poor little thing is always doing your bidding.”
“Bingo!” someone shouted, and Sam had no idea if it was a legitimate win or if he was being mocked.
Either way, he was finished here—one hundred percent done. And so was everybody else. They just didn’t realize it yet.
“The number of people in this lobby exceeds the amount permitted by the Turtle Beach fire code. I’m sorry,” Sam said, even though he was suddenly not sorry in the slightest. “I’m shutting you down.”
Chapter 5
Thenerve.
Violet trembled with rage as she sped home in her cupcake truck. She was shaking so hard she probably could have given Nibbles the Chihuahua a serious run for his money.
How could Sam have done such a thing? Granted, things had gotten a little heated between them. She’d probably crossed the line by calling Cinder slave labor. But come on, he wouldn’t let her have a teeny tiny bite of a cupcake? That seemed like cruel and unusual punishment for a perfectly lovely Dalmatian who never put a paw wrong. And as the police chief’s daughter, Violet knew a prisoner when she saw one.
