Page 31 of A Spot of Trouble
He frowned, as per usual. “I’m not sure, actually. I wanted you to know…”
A million unspoken words floated between them as he hesitated. Violet’s heart started beating very hard, very fast. Sprinkles hopped down from her perch and poked her nose through one of the tiny openings in the pet gate that kept her separated from the food preparation area of the truck. She let out a quiet whine.
Sam glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “I suppose I just want a cupcake.”
“You want a cupcake?” Violet crossed her arms over thethump-thump-thumpof her heart. If Sam had something he wanted to say to her, she wished he would go ahead and get it out regardless of the fact that they had an audience. “Now?”
“Right now. Yes.” He nodded.
Suit yourself, she thought as she tried to tamp down her irrational sense of disappointment that he hadn’t left the game to sweep her off her feet with some grand gesture.
Clearly she’d been watching too many rom-com movies. Sam had less emotional range than his dog. She doubted he was capable of a grand gesture.
Not that she seriously wanted one. Her feet were entirely unsweepable, thank you very much. “What kind?”
He glanced at the four sample cupcakes she’d drawn in swirls of colored chalk on the A-frame sidewalk chalkboard propped beside her truck.
He squinted at her rendering of the Sprinkles Special and the corner of his mouth hitched up in a half grin. Against his will, probably. “Does that one have Dalmatian spots?”
“Yes, it’s the Sprinkles Special,” Violet said.
Sprinkles woofed and nudged the pet gate with her nose.
“I’ll take one of those, please.” Sam shook his head. “Actually, I’ll take nine—one for each member of my team.”
“Your entire team has an urgent need for sugar?” She opened one of her pink bakery boxes and began lining up nine Dalmatian-spotted cupcakes with a tad too much force.
“Look.” Sam sighed again. “I think we should call a truce.”
Violet let out a laugh. “You’d better not let my dad or Chief Murray hear you say that. Never going to happen.”
“I’m not talking about the fire and police departments. I mean you and me,” he said quietly.
The cupcake in Violet’s hand fell to the floor with a splat. She blinked. “What?”
“I think you and I should be”—Sam’s lips twitched—“friends.”
Her tummy fluttered with butterflies and her heart did a funny little flip. Her stupid, stupid heart.
How many times would she fall for this?
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” she said primly.
Sam shrugged. “Why not?”
The list was too long to recite at the moment, especially considering the customers in line behind him had stopped paying attention to the game altogether, opting to follow the drama playing out at the cupcake truck instead.
Violet closed the lid on the bakery box. “We have nothing in common.”
Sam’s eyes flashed over to the dog sitting at his feet and the corner of his mouth curled again. “Not true.”
“Fine, we both have Dalmatians. That’s hardly a reason to be friends.”
His eyes flickered back to Violet, and her heart rose in her throat. In truth, she loved the fact that Sam had a Dalmatian. She loved the way that he and Cinder seemed to be best friends, just like Sprinkles and her. She even loved Cinder’s amazing fire safety demonstration. How could she not?
“I know how you feel about firemen, and yet when you rescued a dog, you chose the breed that’s been known as the firefighters’ best friend for more than a century.” His smile turned tender, and like the crowd standing behind him, Violet started to forget there was a game going on—a game that Sam himself was supposed to be playing. “Tell me why you have a Dalmatian. There must be a reason.”
Indeed there was, but that reason was none of Sam Nash’s business.
