Page 68 of Every Little Kiss
Several of the ladies voiced their agreement, and Ford felt himself start to smile.
Maybe he’d been looking at this all wrong. He didn’t need terrain-ready volunteers. What he needed was added presence for a family-friendly event. Crowd control sounded intense, but in reality it could be as simple as directing people to the medic booth or blocking off streets. Harris had deputies assigned to specific places on Lake Street to beef up their presence and help with traffic flow.
There wasn’t a person in town who would take on these biddies. In fact, doggy-toting grandmas in orange vests would be as approachable as the Easter Bunny, even for the most timid of lost kids. And they’d be as strict as prison wardens when needed, to keep any potential troublemakers in line. Ford looked at his team and did the math—between them there was at least two hundred years of town history. He’d bet there wasn’t a resident they didn’t know—or hadn’t pointed one of their bony fingers at.
“You came here to teach your dog tricks, up your scores for the Wagon Days Darling. I came here to train a volunteer team,” Ford said, gaining everyone’s attention. “So here’s my offer. I’ll teach you guys some tricks that will wow the panel, but that means I have to recuse myself from judging the talent portion.”
A roar of grumbles came from the crowd.
“Hold on, I’m not done. I will still do the final judging, just not the talent portion, but we can have our own helicopter-flying hero, Officer Donovan, step in.”
“He may not have this one’s backside, but those arms of his are nice to look at,” Mavis offered.
“It is two for the price of one,” Prudence added.
Not sure how to respond to that, Ford went on. “In return, you become my volunteer team, helping the department the day of the event. You won’t handle disputes—you’d just be there to keep things moving smoothly, assist people with questions. And every one of your dogs would be singled out for their service.”
It was like watching a time-out at a football game. Without warning, the ladies huddled in a circle, and an intense conversation comprised of tuts, bickering, and a few inappropriate hand gestures took place. After a few moments of deliberation, Mavis popped her head out. “Do we get to carry?”
“Your dogs?” he asked, hoping to God they weren’t talking about a weapon.
“No, a gun.”
Ford was shaking his head even before she finished asking. “No. Absolutely not.”
“You won’t have to provide it—we can bring our own,” Mavis said. “And Prudence here’s one of the best shots in the county.”
“In case you’re on the fence, I can take out a pea at a hundred yards, open scope,” Prudence added.
Ford was so far from the fence he couldn’t even see the posts. With a scope. But he needed to give them something. “No guns. But each dog will get an official-looking patch that you can sew on their vests.”
“An official patch would look great on Bubbles’s vest,” Dorothy said.
“Officiallooking,”he clarified, but no one was listening. They were already debating the color scheme of the patch and where it should be sewn for uniformity. “And it will count as community service toward the Wagon Days Darling.”
The ladies resumed their positions in two straight lines, and Mavis said, “Deal.”
Ford had to laugh. “Great. Next class we’ll cover leash control and how to work a crowd with your dog.”
Mavis’s hand went in the air. “Can I be the test subject when you go over leash techniques?”
He shot her a stern look—not that it helped. Patty was back to snickering. “See you Saturday.”
Someone mentioned that there was still time to catch a matinee at the theatre—which was a dollar cheaper than the senior price—and since Brad Pitt had a shower scene, the place cleared out pretty quick.
After giving Bullseye some water, Ford headed out to the side parking lot where his truck was parked.
In the end the class had turned out okay. Not that he’d admit that to Harris, but he couldn’t wait to see the look on his good friend’s face when he learned he was a new judge.
His smile was back. If he pulled this off, his debt to the department would be settled. So would his promise to Sam.
And Liv.
Ah, Liv. He hadn’t seen her since the bar. After his talk with Harris, then his run-in with Paxton, he wasn’t even sure what he’d say when he did. So he hadn’t said anything, and now another two days had passed and the window to call had slammed shut. And she probably thought he was a complete ass.
Not all that surprising. Nearly every serious relationship Ford had attempted ended in the same fiery death. The whole man-in-uniform thing only lasted so long, because Ford could only last in one place for so long.
“Too busy saving lives to commit to just one,” his last girlfriend had said, when in reality, commitment wasn’t the issue, it was findingthe one.
