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“She’s a beautiful girl,” he remarked, his focus on the dog’s ecstatic behavior. “Your grandmother said she rescued her.”
“Some boys threw her in Cedar Creek,” Mila answered, her gaze focused on his behavior. She’d never known she was a dog person until the day she got Poppy. Obviously the chief was, too. “Gramma pulled her out. The boys ran off, no one claimed her and she became mine.”
A scowl lined his forehead. “I wish she’d called me.”
“What would you have done?”
He looked up and grinned. “I may not know every single resident in town, but I know all the troublemakers.” Disappointing Poppy to no end, he finally stood. The dog pressed herself to his side so he could continue scratching with one hand. “One lesson everyone needs to learn—misbehavior has consequences.”
Chills skipped down Mila’s bare arms. She’d learned consequences long before she could pronounce the word. In her family, breathing too loudly had had consequences. So had getting hungry between meals or having to go to the bathroom when they were traveling.
Still rubbing Poppy’s ears, the chief—Sam—glanced around the tiny room. Books filled the shelves, the newspaper sat on the coffee table with a few magazines and pictures hung on the walls. She thought most people would just see the love seat, comfy chair and television and never notice that there was nothing truly personal in the room. They wouldn’t think that Mila could live here or anyone else…or no one, for that matter. It could be staged to suit anyone.
She gathered from the intent look in the chief’s eyes that he did notice.
“I like your grandmother’s apartment,” he said when his gaze came back to her.
She grabbed the lifeline he’d unwittingly thrown. “Then you’ve seen why I choose to make my space a little more bland.”
He chuckled. “It’s kind of like walking into an explosion in a paint store, isn’t it? It’s, um…”
“Eye-searingly bright?” she supplied drily, and he nodded. “Gramma’s not a subdued person.” She lived in a top-floor apartment of a downtown office building, and every inch of space was filled with stuff. New, old, in prime condition or about to fall apart, cheap, pricey, someone else’s antique, someone else’s trash…if it spoke to her, it went home to live with her.
“If it makes her happy, that’s what matters. It does make this—” he gestured around the room “—more soothing to the spirit.”
Mila liked the idea of her space soothing the spirit. It made her smile even as a beep sounded outside. “That’s Gramma’s signal that she wants help carrying something. I’ll be right back—”
She’d taken only a few steps when he moved. “Keep the dog from making a break for it. I’ll do the lifting.”
Poppy whimpered a time or two when he stepped out the door, then nuzzled against Mila. “Ah, you ignore me from the moment he knocks, but now that he’s gone for a minute, you want my attention again, huh? You’re easy, Poppy.”
And a good thing she was, because the last word anyone would ever use describe Mila was easy.
* * *
Jessica Ramirez drove a bright orange vintage convertible Bug. Of course. What other car could possibly suit her as well? She was standing in the street, bent over the back seat when Sam reached the sidewalk. Looking up, she grinned. “You don’t look any the worse for wear after meeting Poppy.”
“I grew up on a farm with a lot of big animals.” He pulled a laundry basket from the front seat with various dishes tucked inside between thick towels, then picked up an insulated tote bag that clinked when he shifted it.
“Siblings?”
“Cousins. There are more Douglases around here than you can…”
“Shake a stick at?” Carefully Jessica balanced her own laundry basket. “I never understood that saying, but it’s older than I am, and that’s says a lot. Have you lived here all your life?”
“Since I was a twinkle in my daddy’s eyes.”
Stepping onto the sidewalk, she bumped her shoulder against his. “Now that one I understand. Let’s avoid the sweet beast and go straight around to the back porch. I’m sure that’s where Mila plans to put us.”
