Senior citizens fled as quickly as they could in all directions while dogs barked at the ensuing panic.
“Oh my God.” Officer Joe covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his elbow.
Officer Josh choked out a gagging sound.
Violet’s cheeks went as red as a fire hydrant. She shot a sheepish glance at Sam and then quickly looked away.
“Sprinkles, I presume?” Sam arched a brow while the newest Dalmatian on the scene writhed around on its back in the sand, pleased as punch to be the center of attention.
“Yep.” Officer Josh nodded and stepped out of range of the flying sand. “That’s definitely her.”
The dog was an even bigger mess than her owner. Why was Sam not surprised?
“Sprinkles, stop. Stop it right now,” Violet said.
Sam had zero faith that the dog would obey, but miraculously, he was wrong. At the sound of Violet’s voice, Sprinkles hopped into a sit position and stared up at her, wild-eyed, pink tongue lolling out of the side of her doggy mouth.
It might have been cute if the animal hadn’t smelled like she’d just crawled out of a whale carcass.
The stench was beyond horrendous. Sam’s eyes watered. “I take it I’m free to go now?”
The officers nodded, again in unison. “Yes.”
Now that Sam was no longer bracing himself for life in prison, he took a closer look at the silver bars pinned to their uniforms. The same last name—March—was engraved on both of them.
Interesting.
He wondered if Violet’s last name was March as well. That would explain the bear hugs. But Sam didn’t have time to stick around and ask questions. Besides, he wanted to get as far away from Sprinkles as he possibly could.
Violet too, for that matter. She wasn’t as stinky as her dog—far from it, actually. At some point during their confrontation, he’d caught a hint of sugared vanilla from her wind-tossed hair. The woman was trouble, though. And she seemed to have no intention of apologizing for making a spectacle out of him. Or for calling the police. Or for her dog’s vile smell.
“Cinder,” he said, and his dog hopped to her feet, the perfect picture of canine obedience.
Sprinkles’s head swiveled in their direction. She wagged her tail and came closer as Cinder’s nose twitched. Sam remembered reading an article in National Geographic a while back that said a dog’s sense of smell was approximately one hundred thousand times stronger than a human’s. Poor Cinder.
“They really do look a lot alike.” Violet’s bow-shaped lips curved into a contrite smile.
She was right. Nose-to-nose, the two dogs looked like mirror images of one another. With their glossy black-and-white coats, they matched each other spot for spot, from the tips of their tails to their identical black heart-shaped noses.
But it still wasn’t an apology, and Sam was in no mood for niceties.
He gave Cinder’s leash a gentle tug and brushed past Violet without a word. She huffed out a breath, and just before Sam got out of earshot, he heard one of the elderly bystanders mutter an undeniable truth.
“This town might not be big enough for two Dalmatians.”
Chapter 2
What have I done?
Sam stood on the sidewalk at the intersection of Seashell Drive and Pelican Street, studying the modest downtown area of Turtle Beach. For starters, “sidewalk” was a bit of a stretch. It was more of a gravelly path, surrounded by overgrown seagrass on either side. Downtown itself appeared to take up no more than six square blocks of the narrow barrier island, stretching from the Salty Dog Pier at one end to the Turtle Beach Senior Living Center at the other. From where his feet were planted, Sam could see the foamy ocean waves of the town’s beachfront in one direction and just a glimpse of the smooth glassy surface of the intracoastal waterway in the other. The island, his new home, was that narrow.
“Maybe this town isn’t big enough for two Dalmatians,” he muttered.
Cinder’s ears swiveled to and fro.
“Just kidding,” Sam said, resting a reassuring hand on the spotted dog’s smooth head.
Still, picturing an idyllic beach town in your head and seeing it in person were two entirely different things. Sam had never been much of a beach person. Or a small-town person. He was very much a Dalmatian person, though. That point was non-negotiable.
As for the rest, he’d adapt. Turtle Beach was clearly the complete and total opposite of Chicago, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Sam had upended his entire life, based on nothing but a fifteen-minute Zoom interview and a perfunctory Google search of the North Carolina coastline. Now here he was, living the dream.
Thus far, though, his new life hadn’t been nearly as serene and peaceful as the Turtle Beach brochure promised. He wondered when the idyllic part was supposed to kick in. With any luck, soon.
As in immediately.
“Let’s do this,” he said to Cinder, more out of habit than anything else, as he headed toward the firehouse.
As usual, Cinder walked alongside him in perfect heel position. Sam didn’t need to prompt her to stick by his side. Unlike her carbon copy disaster of a Dalmatian—the memorable Sprinkles—Cinder knew how to behave. In fact, before they’d left Illinois, Cinder had been awarded the Chicago Fire Department’s esteemed Medal of Honor in recognition of her long and faithful service.
Emphasis on faithful. Every black spot on Cinder’s body would fall off before she’d embarrass him the way Sprinkles had just humiliated Violet. It just wouldn’t happen. Then again, Sam had invested countless hours into training his dog and bonding with her because he was a responsible pet owner. Somehow he doubted Violet fit that particular bill.
But that wasn’t Sam’s problem—not unless her disorderly Dalmatian had a habit of violating the fire code. From what he’d witnessed thus far, he wouldn’t put it past her.
Sam frowned as the firehouse came into view, not because of the matchbox size of it, but because sand had somehow made its way into his shoes already. He was going to have to learn to deal with that oddly specific problem, just as he was going to have to remember to slather sunscreen onto his face every morning and to avoid even the remote possibility of another Dalmatian confrontation at dog beach.
Weirdly, he was also going to have to grow accustomed to the town’s apparent animosity toward firefighters. Two police officers caught sight of him as he approached the firehouse, and they openly scowled at him from the paved driveway of the police station, situated directly across the street. Even Cinder noticed. She let out a low rumbling noise and moved closer to Sam until he could feel the growl vibrating through her black-and-white body.