Opal frowned. “Actually, he is. Technically speaking.”
Okay, fine. Maybe he was, but only insomuch as she was a tax-paying resident of Turtle Beach and she lived in his jurisdiction. He didn’t belong to her, like Sprinkles did. Although the thought of keeping him on a leash wasn’t without merit.
“We couldn’t help noticing the sparks between you two yesterday,” Ethel said. “Everyone did.”
“Well, everyone’s wrong.” Violet straightened, and her head hit the top of her cupcake truck’s window with a bang.
Ouch. She blamed Sam for the goose egg she’d probably have tomorrow. Everything had started going horribly wrong the moment he’d strolled into town with Cinder in tow. He’d disrupted the town’s delicate Dalmatian equilibrium, and now things were going haywire. It was the only logical explanation. Even Mavis, Ethel, and Opal had been affected. Clearly.
“Too bad, because your dogs looked absolutely precious together,” Mavis said.
Violet thought about the way Sprinkles and Cinder liked to greet each other by touching the tips of their heart-shaped noses together. Mavis was right. They were sweet together—far sweeter than Violet felt comfortable admitting.
“Perhaps we were mistaken.” Opal bit into her cupcake.
Ethel regarded Violet over the top of her purple glasses. “He’s awfully handsome, though.”
Sam’s chiseled face flashed in Violet’s consciousness, and warmth filled her chest—obviously a reaction to the head injury she’d just suffered.
“Is he? I hadn’t noticed.” She untied the bow on the sash of her polka dot apron and re-tied it so she wouldn’t have to look at her friends’ skeptical expressions.
“Maybe you can notice now.” Ethel cleared her throat. “Because he’s here.”
“What?” Violet’s head jerked up. “He’s here at the senior center? Now?”
She glanced out the cupcake truck’s order window, past her three friends and their walkers decorated with quilted hanging pouches to hold their bingo daubers, and sure enough—there was Sam Nash and his trusty spotted sidekick, walking right toward them.
Violet’s heart beat hard in her chest at the sight of him. Ethel wasn’t wrong. Sam was awfully handsome.
Emphasis on awful.
Ugh. What was he doing here?
“You said it yourself, dear.” Ethel shrugged. “Everyone on the island loves bingo.”
***
Sam’s footsteps slowed as he caught sight of the shiny Airstream trailer topped with its pink rotating cupcake parked in front of the senior center.
He very nearly turned around to reverse course. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for another uncomfortable encounter with the island’s beloved Dalmatian enthusiast. Perhaps his evening would be better spent unpacking a few of the moving boxes that were stacked around his rented beach house like a cardboard maze.
No, he thought. This is your job…the whole reason you’re here.
Right. He couldn’t avoid Violet forever. Turtle Beach was a small island. He was just going to have to power through and act like a trained professional, even though the island seemed to be getting smaller by the minute.
Cinder fell in step beside him as he hastened his pace. Already, the enticing aromas of sweet cream and warm vanilla were wrapping themselves around him, heady and lush.
Enough already. Stop thinking about cake, you idiot.
He stepped off the gravel sidewalk to make way for a pair of barefoot teenagers headed toward him with comically huge surfboards tucked under their skinny arms, but they shifted to block his path.
“Bro,” one of them said, frowning at Cinder. “Isn’t that—”
Annoyance spiraled through Sam. This again.
“No…bro,” he said sharply. “This Dalmatian is named Cinder, not Sprinkles. And she belongs to me, not to Violet March. What’s more, she’s a highly trained animal!”
Super, he was screaming at minors now. Cinder looked up at him, utterly disgusted.
Sam knew he was just projecting. If anyone was disgusted by his behavior, it was Sam himself. But if one more person in this wackadoodle beach town accused him of dognapping, he was going to lose it.
The surfers exchanged dubious glances.
“Bro,” they said in unison.
“I’m sorry.” Sam forced a smile. “This is my dog. Just trust me, okay?”
The teens both glanced at Cinder again.
“Bro,” Sam said again. A plea.
“Whatever, bro,” one of the teens said, clearly unconvinced.
Fortunately for Sam, the lure of the waves proved more enticing to the surfers than a dognapped Dalmatian. They shrugged and resumed their trek to the nearby beach access with their boards pointed toward the sea.
Sam heaved a sigh of exhausted relief. He could take a hint—it was time to pack it in for the day and retreat back to his quiet beach house where no one else could mistake him for a gender-flipped Cruella de Vil. He’d simply have to check out bingo night at the senior center on the following Tuesday evening.
But then Sam looked up and spied Violet exiting her cupcake-mobile carrying an enormous tray of decorated baked goods. Sprinkles pranced behind her, leaping in the air every now and then to nip at Violet’s polka dot apron strings. It was all so thoroughly charming and eccentric, save one thing—the overtly amused expression on Violet’s heart-shaped face.
She’d just witnessed the entire exchange between Sam and the surfers, because of course she had. The woman was everywhere.
“Cinder, I hope you’re in the mood for bingo,” he muttered.
Now he couldn’t leave. Doing so would be tantamount to admitting defeat. Sam had yet to fully identify the nature of their battle, but he wasn’t about to back down.
He plodded on, reaching the doors to the senior center just a few steps behind his beautiful adversary. Her huge tray of cupcakes tipped at a precarious angle as she attempted to hold onto it with one hand and push the handicapped-accessible automatic door button with the other.
“Here. Let me get that for you,” Sam said, pressing his palm against the big blue button in an effort to avoid a cupcake avalanche.
“Thank you very much, but I can do it myself.” Violet banged the button seconds after Sam did.
The double doors slid halfway open before they stuttered to a halt and then closed again.
Violet shot Sam a frosty look, and they both pressed the button again at the exact same time.
The cupcakes wobbled, Cinder and Sprinkles trotted inside, and then the doors slid shut again, trapping the dogs on one side of the glass and their human counterparts on the other. A Dalmatian separation.