Page 54 of A Spot of Trouble
“Never mind,” Violet said, teeth chattering. The combination of the senior center’s frigid air conditioning and being doused with what had to have been gallons of water wasn’t pleasant. “Just write the citations out to me.”
What was one more ticket when she had zero intention of taking any of them seriously?
Sam gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher, but it made her go a little weak in the knees all the same.
Violet wrapped her arms tightly around herself and looked away. “First things first, though. Can anyone get us a blanket? Or at least a towel?”
“Come with me, dears. I’ve got everything you need in my room.” Mavis beckoned them to follow and began guiding her walker toward the hallway just off the lobby.
Sam hesitated.
Violet swished past him and called over her shoulder. “Come on, you know you can’t go slogging back to the firehouse like that.”
He fell in line behind her with a slosh.Squish, squish, squishwent his footsteps as they made their way down the hall.
Violet felt her mouth twitch. She pressed her lips together in an effort not to laugh, but she just couldn’t help it. She’d seen Sam annoyed on plenty of occasions, but annoyed and wet was a combination she’d yet to witness. It was far more entertaining than she would have imagined.
“Come on in.” Mavis pushed the door to her room open and waved them inside. “There are afghans piled on the sofa. I’ll get some towels from the bathroom and put on a kettle of tea.”
“I’ll put the kettle on. I know where it is,” Violet said.
There was zero chance that Mavis was innocent in whatever matchmaking scheme the Charlie’s Angels had cooked up, but she was pushing ninety. Violet wasn’t about to sit back and let Mavis wait on her and Sam hand and foot.
“I’ll get the towels.” Sam glanced at Mavis. “If you don’t mind showing me where they are?”
Violet smiled to herself as she filled the electric kettle with water. Maybe Sam wasn’t entirely terrible, after all. Softball and his over-the-top stance on fire prevention aside, he seemed kind. Chivalrous, even. And yowza, the man could kiss.
But Violet wasn’t allowed to think about that. And she certainly wasn’t. Not one bit. The riot of goosebumps spreading across her flesh was strictly sprinkler-related.
“Oh, my goodness.” Mavis pressed a hand to her chest. Nibbles shivered in her walker basket, eyes going wide. “I forgot something in the lobby.”
Sure she did.
Violet and Sam exchanged a glance as he handed her an enormous fluffy towel.
God bless Mavis and her penchant for fine Turkish cotton. Violet burrowed into the plush terry cloth and felt better at once.
“You two stay here and get warm and dry. I’ll be back in a flash.” Mavis winked and beat a hasty trail out of the room before either Violet or Sam could object.
Violet took a deep breath. The minute the door closed behind Mavis, the space seemed far too small. Too intimate, which was crazy, considering it was an apartment in a senior living center, filled with hand-knitted granny-square blankets, framed photos of Nibbles the Chihuahua, and a comically large bowl of Werther’s Original caramel hard candies. There was nothing whatsoever romantic about the environment…
Save for the butterflies that took flight in Violet’s abdomen when Sam smiled at her.
“What do you think the odds are that she actually needed to fetch something from the lobby?” he asked.
“Zero.” Violet’s hand shook a bit as she poured steaming liquid from the kettle into two ceramic mugs from Mavis’s cabinet. She added a dash of cream and handed one of the mugs to Sam. “Sorry. I didn’t even ask how you take your tea. I’m a little controlling about anything sweet. Just trust me. I defy you to dislike it.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” His mouth hitched into a half grin.
No kissing, remember? Don’t even think about it.
Who was she kidding? Her lips went tingly every time she looked at the man. Damn the Charlie’s Angels. This was all their fault.
Violet sat down beside Sam on Mavis’s small sofa, which she absolutely refused to think of as a love seat. (It was definitely a love seat.) He spread one of the granny square blankets over their laps like they were a pair of octogenarians, and she all but melted. This couldn’t be a normal response. Maybe she needed some sort of therapy. Or, good grief, maybe Joe was right. Maybe she really did need to find some friends her own age.
She stared into her cup of tea. “I’m sorry.”
Sam’s mug paused en route to his mouth. His brow furrowed. “Sorry for what? Nothing about this disaster was your fault.”
