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“It’s Salvation.” Luciana shrugged. “My phone started ringing last night with the news. So how did Marna Simons’s granddaughter like the rescue dog?”
The image of the six-year-old frozen with fear as the dog snored as loud as a Ma Deuce .50 caliber machine gun flashed in his mind. He and Simons had stood in the middle of the police department’s front lobby for twenty minutes trying to get the little girl to approach the dog. All the while, the furry beast slept blissfully unaware that his fuzzy ass was still homeless and probably would be for some time.
“Not at all. The mutt is hanging out at the station until I figure out what we can do about it.”
Along with the stench of wet dog. The things he did for his sister and her pet projects. Of course, he’d learned as a child that while he may be the older sibling, it was no use arguing with his baby sister once she made up her mind.
“Maybe you can train him to be a service dog for the police department.”
Luciana’s voice didn’t carry a trace of cunning, but his big-brother FUBAR alert was already blasting an alarm. When he’d started picking up stray dogs from the kill shelter for her, he’d told her in no uncertain terms that he wasn’t about to keep one.
He sure as shitting wasn’t changing his mind. “The only thing that mutt is good for is chewing things he shouldn’t.”
“Your shoes?” Olivia asked, an amused smile curling her full lips.
His combat boots had made it through several tours but not one night with the mutt. “Yep.”
“You know, I bet he’d be a good mascot for the veterans’ center,” Luciana said. “Maybe you could raffle him off to raise money. With the caveat that he’d have to go to a good home, of course.”
“Obviously you haven’t set eyes on the dog.” Or fought for air because of the fart missiles it fired.
Ruby Sue returned with a waitress who carried three tall glasses of sweet tea on her tray. The waitress dropped off the tea before going to help another table, but Ruby Sue stuck around. He’d have to be a complete idiot not to realize she was looking for a little gossip.
Either oblivious or purposefully ignoring the situation, Olivia took a long drink of sweet tea. Her pink tongue snuck out to swipe away the droplets from her lips, an act that left his mouth dry.
She wiped the corner of her mouth with a paper napkin. “He’s a cute dog.”
He snorted. “In what universe?”
“If he’s as ugly as all that, he’d fit in perfectly at the veterans’ center, considering what a wreck it is,” Ruby Sue groused. “Just disgraceful what they’ve let happen.”
Olivia looked from Ruby Sue to him to Luciana. “What happened to the center?”
“Remember that big old oak tree at the corner of Main and Rogers?” Luciana asked while retrieving a crayon from under the table that Amalie had dropped.
Olivia nodded.
“Lightning strike hit it and sent it straight through the center’s roof.” She handed over the crayon and ruffled the girl’s long brown hair. “For the past two years, local veterans have been using the courthouse annex until they can raise enough money for repairs.”
Packed in like sardines, more like it. Guys came in for help filling out VA forms, navigating the system, connecting with old buddies and networking for post-military careers. The veterans’ center was more than just a bar and a hangout. It was HQ.
“But so many people use that facility. Almost everyone in town has two or three family members either going in, on active duty or retired from the military.” She turned her blue-eyed gaze on him. “Can’t the county help out? Or the federal government?”
Like he was in charge of the county’s money instead of police chief of Salvation’s six-person force that included two part-time officers. “You may not have realized it, being a rich supermodel and all, but money’s tight for most people around here, and tax revenue is down so the county’s out and, because it’s not an official VA center, the feds don’t care about it either.”
Luciana kicked him in the shin under the table. Her shoe connected with the bone right under his kneecap with enough force to snap his mouth shut before he could say anything else. The stop-being-an-asshole look on her face was just the exclamation point on her message.
Olivia ignored the scuffle and continued. “What about a fundraiser? The brewery could host one.” She unzipped her giant orange purse and started digging through it. “Maybe make it an in-house brew crawl with folks signing up to taste all of the different beers.” She pulled out a small notebook and pen before flipping open the cover and writing First Annual Veterans Brew Crawl across the top in big, loopy letters. “We could even call in some of the other craft breweries in the area and have a beer-off.”
“What’s a beer-off?” Luciana asked.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.” She grinned. “Want to help?”
“I’d love to, but I’m wall-to-wall already.” She turned to Mateo, an ornery grin on her face, and his gut tightened. “But you’d be happy to help, wouldn’t you?”
If by “happy” she meant dead set against it. The extra sparkle in her eyes said otherwise. “Forget it, sis.” He would have sprinted from the booth if Olivia wasn’t the one between him and freedom.
“No way.” Luciana shook her head and crossed her arms. “You’ve been holed up in your house by yourself for too long.”
