by Teri Wilson
How had he let that happen? Sam had been on duty, for crying out loud. Cinder was his partner, and he should never have let her out of his sight. Not for a second.
Cinder hadn’t gotten into any trouble, obviously. Sam and Violet had found the dogs back in the lobby, cuddled up together on the community sofa in front of the senior center’s big flat-screen television. It had been tuned to an old black-and-white movie about a dog of dubious heritage who seemed to be some sort of superhero. The Dalmatians had been enthralled, particularly Cinder. Sam still chuckled when he thought about it. Cinder had never taken much interest in television, especially since she’d once been afraid of it. Half an hour in Sprinkles’s company had apparently transformed his dog into a couch potato. For a second he’d thought maybe he’d gotten the two lookalike dogs confused, but nope. Sprinkles’s trademark cupcake collar was strapped around her spotted neck, as per usual. Even her identification tag was cupcake-shaped.
Sam had only himself to blame for Cinder’s newfound love of television. Again, he should never have let Cinder leave his side at the senior center—for the very same reason he hadn’t let Violet offer her a treat at bingo night. Cinder was a working dog, and they’d supposedly been working yesterday afternoon. Regardless of the veracity of Ethel’s call to the station about the fire sprinklers, his visit to the senior center had been official TBFD business. What had he been thinking? Sam may as well have stripped out of his uniform, pulled on a #FreeCinder T-shirt, and called it a day.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Sam said to his dog as he stumbled toward the coffee maker. Morning light streamed through the windows, bathing the interior of the beach cottage in soft watercolor hues, just like his painting of the dog beach.
Sam paused to take it all in. Beyond the sliding glass doors that led to his deck, the ocean lapped against the shore in gentle, foamy waves. The sea was calm today, and as Sam allowed himself to simply slow down and appreciate the beauty of his surroundings, he realized he felt calm too. There was a stillness in his soul he hadn’t felt in months.
Sam didn’t want to believe that whatever he might be feeling for Violet March had anything to do with this newfound peace. It just wasn’t possible. She was pandemonium personified.
“It’s the beach, right?” he said to Cinder. “Everyone feels more at peace at the beach.”
Sam glanced down in search of Dalmatian confirmation, but what he found instead was one of his regulation fire department socks dangling from Cinder’s mouth.
“What the…?” He blinked. Hard. “Cinder! Drop it.”
His Dalmatian spit the sock onto the floor, then let out a squeaky dog yawn.
Sam was stunned. Cinder knew better than to steal socks. She hadn’t done such a thing since she was a puppy.
This is your fault, not hers.
Right. Everyone knew the key to training a dog was consistency. Sam had slipped up, and Cinder was taking advantage of his lack of focus. It was a classic rookie mistake.
Never mind the fact that Sam wasn’t a rookie.
He drew himself up to his full height and looked at Cinder.
“Yesterday was…” Kind of great, actually. “…a mistake. Everything is back to normal now, got it?”
Cinder cocked her head, which Sam took as a sign of agreement.
He nodded. “Good.”
It had been one day. A single call. Surely he hadn’t undone years of training in a matter of an hour. Everything was going to be fine.
But when Sam strode back to the kitchen for some much needed caffeine, the coffee maker was stone cold and the pot was empty. He glanced toward his bedroom and sure enough, the bed wasn’t made either. Cinder, meanwhile, had stretched out in a sunny spot near the sliding glass door. Her paws were already beginning to twitch as she fell back asleep.
Sam groaned. Of course. Cinder’s sudden rebellion was all his fault, and not just because he’d left his Dalmatian unattended for a short while yesterday afternoon. For over a week now, he’d been trying to get her to relax at home—no more making the bed, no more turning on the coffee maker. His message had finally sunk in, and now she was confused about Sam’s expectations. Now that he’d realized what was going on, it was ridiculously obvious.
Sam had let Violet and her bonkers attempt to start a #FreeCinder movement mess with his head. For the past week and a half, he’d been systematically untraining his Dalmatian.
No more. Sam could make his own coffee and straighten his own bed covers, but when Cinder was on the job, she needed to behave. He couldn’t break any more rules, period.
Fortunately, Sam and Cinder had another children’s fire safety demonstration scheduled later in the week for a local surf camp. Cinder loved kids, and since their presentation was the new hot ticket on the island, she’d had plenty of practice lately. It should be a piece of cake.
Once he got to the firehouse, Sam busied himself with paperwork for the first half of the day while Cinder snoozed on her dog bed in the corner…mostly. Griff popped in mid-morning to see what time Sam wanted to head out to the batting cages after their shift, and Cinder pawed at his leg until he stopped what he was doing to give her a prolonged head-to-toe scratch.
“Sorry,” Sam said. “She’s in a mood today.”
Cinder rolled onto her back, and Griff rubbed her spotted belly. “Don’t apologize. It’s good to see her act like an actual dog for a change.”
Sam didn’t ask Griff what he meant by that comment. He didn’t have to—he knew. Sam just hoped his friend didn’t have a secret #FreeCinder T-shirt hidden in his locker.
He nearly said so, but before he could get the words out, Violet appeared in the doorway to his office.
A pink bakery box rested in her hands and she wore one of her girly retro dresses that fell around her in a whirl of white cotton, printed all over with ripe red cherries. Sprinkles—dressed in her pink cupcake collar, as usual—stood beside her, wiggling with glee.
“Knock knock.” Violet’s gaze swiveled back and forth between Sam and Griff. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
Griff waggled his eyebrows. “If you’ve got cupcakes in that box, you’re definitely not interrupting.”
“Violet, hi.” Sam stood as if he were a flustered teenager greeting his prom date. “Come on in.”
Cinder jolted awake and cocked her head.
Yes, I know. I’ve got no game.
Once upon a time, Sam could interact with women without a second thought. Of course, that had been before he’d become a self-imposed emotional recluse.
He hadn’t been closed off for so long that he’d forgotten how to talk to people, though. And he’d clearly had no trouble whatsoever establishing a rapport with Hazel at the library. No, Sam’s social awkwardness was exclusive to Violet-centric interactions. Probably because every time they were together something crazy ensued, and the situation seemed to be getting worse instead of better.
Sam dreaded it almost as much as he looked forward to it.
“We’re on our way to the senior center,” Violet said, tipping her head toward Sprinkles. The Dalmatian leapt at Sam as if it had been a hundred days since she’d seen Sam instead of a mere eighteen hours. “I made some cupcakes early this morning and thought I’d drop some by.”
She set the box down on Sam’s desk and tucked a wayward mermaid curl behind her ear. “Earl Grey–lavender.”
Was it Sam’s imagination, or did Violet seem uncharacteristically nervous too?
He inhaled a ragged breath. She did, and that meant he wasn’t the only one experiencing feelings that were strictly off-limits. Something was happening between them—something that went beyond their initial love-hate attraction to one another. Violet felt it too. Sam would have bet money on it.
“Thank you.” Sam grinned as he extricated himself from Sprinkles’s enthusiastic greeting to lift the lid of the bake
ry box.
A dozen cupcakes were nestled inside, richly scented with black tea, bergamot, and lavender and topped with a generous swirl of lilac-colored buttercream. A tiny string dangled from each small cake, affixed to a small paper label, giving the effect of teabag immersed in a china teacup. They looked too pretty to eat—painstakingly detailed, edible works of art.
Still, Sam’s stomach growled. He was only human. “These are incredible.”
Sprinkles dropped into a sit position, so nearby that her rump landed squarely on Sam’s left foot.
“I think someone is developing a little crush on you,” Griff said.
“Um…” Violet shook her head.
Sam nearly choked. “It’s not—”
“Relax, you two. I meant the dog.” Griff motioned toward Sprinkles. “That Dalmatian is looking at you like she’s the living embodiment of the heart eyes emoji, Sam.”
Violet shrugged. “Sprinkles loves everyone. That’s why she doesn’t need obedience lessons. She’s naturally sweet.”
Sam and Griff exchanged a glance.
“I’m serious. Sprinkles is a delight. Everyone in town thinks so,” Violet said.
Sam wasn’t about to disagree, lest she snatch the bakery box away like the last time she’d brought him cupcakes. Although he had to admit, while definitely overstimulated, at least Sprinkles hadn’t knocked anything off his desk or tried to ingest a Ping-Pong ball. Yet.
Griff cleared his throat. “Of course they do.”
Sam was grateful when his cell phone started to ring, vibrating across the surface of his desk, effectively putting an end to the awkward topic.
“Looks like someone from Chicago FD is trying to get ahold of you.” Griff frowned down at the display on Sam’s iPhone. “Hey, isn’t that your old department?”
Sam declined the call and shoved his phone in his desk drawer. Jameson Dodd had been texting him every other day about the fire marshal job back in Chicago, and Sam had yet to respond. Apparently, his old chief had now resorted to calling, which meant he was serious about luring Sam back to Illinois. Chief Dodd hated talking on the phone.
“I’m sure it’s nothing important.” Sam scrubbed at the back of his neck. He was beginning to sweat. His small office wasn’t meant for three people and two Dalmatians.
“I won’t keep you,” Violet said.
Stay. Please. Why couldn’t Griff take a hint and make himself scarce?
“Consider the cupcakes a thank you for not dragging Opal, Ethel, and Mavis off to fireman jail.”
Sam chuckled. “Fireman jail?”
“Yeah, that’s not a thing,” Griff said. “Violating the fire code is the same thing as breaking the law. Same fines, same penalties, same jail.”
“Oh, wow.” Violet’s forehead scrunched. “In that case, I should have made you two dozen cupcakes.”
“This is more than enough.” Sam smiled, and warmth filled him like a fiery beach sunrise. He’d have given anything to be back on Mavis’s loveseat with Violet’s head resting on his shoulder again. “Thank you.”
“Wait a minute.” Griff pointed to Violet, then to Sam and then back to Violet again. “Aren’t you two supposed to be enemies?”
Sam ventured a cautious glance at Violet, and she blinked, seemingly speechless. There was a first time for everything, apparently.
“I—” Sam started to say.
I don’t think so.
They’d moved past all that, hadn’t they?
Cinder rose from her dog bed and went to stand beside Violet as if to imply that if Sam and Violet were on opposing teams, she fully intended to defect. Great, a Dalmatian desertion.
“Yes.” Violet gave a firm nod. “Absolutely.”
“That’s what I thought.” Griff reached for a cupcake.
Sam had the almost irresistible urge to snatch it out of his hand. He crossed his arms instead and nodded.
“Still enemies,” he said flatly.
“Totally,” Violet said. “Arch-enemies, even.”
Okay, then. Maybe they weren’t past the asinine feud after all.
Sam’s body went leaden. The thought of eating an Earl Grey cupcake suddenly made him sick to his stomach.
“Right. It was nice to see you, nemesis.” Violet lifted her chin. “But I should really be going. I’ll see you two on Saturday at the softball diamond. Prepare to be crushed.”
She spun on her kitten heels and marched out of the office, but Sprinkles stubbornly stayed put, because of course she did. Cinder looked as if she might follow after Violet until Sam pointed at her.
Don’t you dare.
Griff smirked and motioned toward Sprinkles with his half-eaten cupcake. “I told you someone has a crush on you.”
Sam had no clue if he was still talking about the Dalmatian or Violet herself—not even when she returned and had to physically drag Sprinkles away.
As wrong as it might be, he wished it were the latter.
***
Violet would have sprinted out of the firehouse if she hadn’t been forced to haul Sprinkles away from Sam’s office in a heap of spots and indignation. Honestly, was just an ounce of devotion too much to ask?
“It’s okay, Sprinkles.” Violet forced a smile as she huffed to a stop on Seashell Drive. “Everyone loves you, so of course you love everyone back. I forgive you.”
Did her dog have to like Sam quite so much, though? Griff was right. It was a full-blown case of Dalmatian fascination.
Violet understood. She wasn’t exactly immune to Sam’s charms herself, and now, to her utter mortification, Griff had noticed. The last thing Violet needed was for the entire TBFD softball team to think she was swooning over Sam Nash every time he got up to bat…
Even though she sort of was.
“Vi?” a pair of familiar twin voices said in unison.
Oh, great. Just who I need to bump into on the sidewalk outside the firehouse. Violet closed her eyes and took a deep breath before turning around to face her brothers. “Hi, Joe. Josh. What are you two doing out here? Shouldn’t you be out protecting and serving and all that?”
Josh hitched a thumb in the direction of a police cruiser parked by the curb. “We’re about to go park by the bridge with the radar gun. The Fourth of July crowds are already descending, and you know how they get.”
Violet nodded. The Fourth was always the busiest time of year on the island. Beach house rentals filled up months in advance, the town put on a big fireworks show over the water near the boardwalk, and the Guns and Hoses championship game always took place earlier in the day—unless the tournament was a blowout and a championship game wasn’t necessary. But that hadn’t happened in years.
And it wouldn’t happen this summer, either. Not if Violet could help it.
“More important,” Joe said, casting a purposeful glare at the fire station, “what are you doing here, Vi?”
Violet shrugged, doing her best to feign nonchalance. “Sprinkles and I are on our way to the senior center to see the Charlie’s Angels.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “By way of Sam Nash’s place of employment?”
“We heard you carried cupcakes inside the firehouse a little bit ago,” Josh said. “Everyone did. This is a small island, remember?”
Too small, obviously.
“We also heard that you took a shower with Sam yesterday?” Joe jammed his hands on his hips.
Violet let out an incredulous laugh. “I’ll own up to the cupcakes but we absolutely did not take a shower together. Where on earth are you two getting your information?”
Josh shook his head. “Never mind that. You’ve got some explaining to do.”
“No, I don’t. I’m a grown-up, remember? I don’t need your permission to drop off a box of cupcakes, and it’s my business who I shower with.” Her ears felt impossibly hot all
of a sudden, even though a cool, salty breeze had rolled in with the morning tide. The seagrass lining the sidewalk danced and swayed. “Not that we did that. Again, just to be clear, we didn’t. Sam and I got doused in a fire sprinkler accident. It was completely innocent.”
“Still.” Josh frowned. “We don’t like it, Vi. Not at all.”
Joe heaved out a sigh. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him?”
Sprinkles—good girl that she was—snorted in apparent derision.
Violet rested her palm on the Dalmatian’s sweet head and squared her shoulders. “You’ve got to stop. I might have been a bit naive in the past, but that was my mistake. Mine. You can’t keep hovering like this.”
“Can’t I?” Josh said, casting another death-glare toward the fire station.
Things were getting out of hand. Violet wasn’t sure who was behaving more abominably—her brothers or her friends at the senior center. When had she lost complete and total control over her own love life?
The minute you trusted the wrong firefighter.
Joe regarded her until the backs of her knees went as hot as her ears. “Why are you bringing Sam cupcakes, anyway? You’re rivals. Or do I need to remind you that there’s a bet at stake?”
As if she could forget.
Violet couldn’t enroll Sprinkles in obedience school. After the police department’s recent loss, she’d done a cursory internet search for nearby dog training programs. Just in case. Every single one of them conducted class on the weekends. Who was supposed to man the cupcake truck while she cajoled Sprinkles into doing a series of senseless tricks?
The prospect of losing to Sam was more humiliating than Violet cared to think about. Embarrassment aside, she didn’t have time for formal obedience lessons. It simply couldn’t happen.
Joe sighed. “Look, we’re not trying to tell you what to do.”
Really? If Violet had been capable of snorting with her Dalmatian’s panache, she would have done so. She opted for a hearty eye roll instead.
“We’re just worried about you, that’s all,” Joe said quietly. “No one wants to see you get hurt.”
