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“He’s a greyhound. He’s a male. He shouldn’t be named Muffy.”
“I’ll let you tell that to Benjamin.”
“Who’s Benjamin?”
“The six-year-old who was volunteering with his mother the day we rescued this dog.”
At least if I’d had this man in a calendar to ogle he couldn’t have talked back. Benjamin had been thrilled to name the dog, like it had been Christmas and his birthday at the same time. Who was I to tell him he couldn’t call him Muffy?
Mr. January held up both hands. “Look—”
“No, you look.” His lips parted and even Muffy blinked up at me in surprise. “It’s freezing, and I don’t like cold weather. I give him a treat when he comes outside and does his business fast. All he did was what I asked.”
“You told him to piss on my truck?” The tension ramped up another notch instead of diffusing.
“I told him to be quick. It’s not like he meant it as a personal insult. He just picked a spot and went.” I shrugged. Muffy wagged his tail even faster.
Mr. January scowled. “Don’t let it happen again.”
He shouldered past me and opened the driver’s side door.
“The chances of that happening are about zero, considering you’ll never get this parking spot again.”
It was right in front of the rescue. I’d worked there twelve years. Never seen the truck before today. Wouldn’t ever see it or Mr. January again.
He smirked and pointed at Muffy. “Find another spot to go.”
Muffy swiped his big tongue over his finger. Mr. January kept his hard gaze on the dog, but I swore one corner of his mouth lifted.
When those piercing eyes met mine, they were all fire. Nope. The man was a grouch.
“Want us to wash it?” I asked sweetly as he climbed in the cab.
“That would be a start.”
Seriously? That truck looked like he’d been driving in a muddy cotton field all day. And by the way, there were no cotton fields in this city last I checked.
“I’ll let you know when I want it done.”
“The tire. That’s—”Slam. Did he just shut the door while I was talking? “All I’m washing,” I yelled as he cranked up the diesel engine.
Muffy jumped at the noise, and I crouched to comfort him.
Mr. January gunned away from the curb. Just as he swerved into traffic, I caught a glimpse of his license plate.
I??Cher.
Chapter Two
Pepper
“What was that racket?”
Miss Adeline sat behind the reception desk, her weathered hands absently running over the heads of not one, but two dogs.
“Mr. January,” I muttered.
“Thought you got lost. Speedy Gonzales there usually is in and out.” The wrinkles around her eyes tightened. “And you said those calendars were degrading.”
