Dev smiled that she thought he was a doorman in his boots, jeans, and unzipped black fleece jacket over a black T-shirt. But he didn’t correct her—no sense alarming an old lady.
With no animal in sight, he asked, “Are you picking up?”
“My grandson is parking the car. He’ll bring Pixie in with him in just a moment.”
Dev glanced back in time to see a guy step back from a pearl white Cadillac SUV as a large black and tan Rottweiler jumped down from the bac
k seat.
Pixie?
“Mrs. Walters!” Shelby’s voice exclaimed. “What did you do? Are you okay?”
Dev turned back to see she’d come through the double doors from the back, her expression concerned as she greeted the older lady.
“Oh, I’m fine. Just twisted my ankle on a patch of ice.”
Shelby flicked her gaze to Dev, gave him a quick smile that put a warm glow in his chest, then looked past him as she asked, “Where’s Pixie?”
Dev caught the slight falter in her smile and turned to see what caused the reaction. His whole body stiffened at the sight of Chad Mayer on the other end of the Rottweiler’s leash.
“There she is now,” Mrs. Walters said. “My grandson insisted on chauffeuring me today.”
Mayer opened the door, his gaze bouncing between the three of them standing there. Shelby bent as the dog rushed forward, stub of a tail wiggling along with its big, solid butt.
“Hello there, Pixie. How you doing girl?” She gave the dog a rub by the jowls while tilting her head to glance up. “Hey, Chad.”
Dev heard the forced smile in her voice and instinctively eased closer. Mayer shot him one more glance before giving her a friendly grin.
“Shelby, hey. I forgot you worked here.”
Bullshit.
“You two know each other?” Mrs. Walters asked.
Oh, boy. There was definitely matchmaker’s hope in that question.
“We do,” Shelby answered, her voice bright and cheerful as she extended her hand for the dog’s leash without explaining how. “Let’s get Pixie in for her pedicure so I can stay on schedule.”
The moment Mayer reached toward her, Dev shot his hand out and took the leash. Giving the guy a stern glare, he passed the leather handle to Shelby.
Mrs. Walters laughed, oblivious to the tension. “Ginny from my bridge group has a huge Golden Doodle with bright pink toenails.”
“Oh, my.” Shelby straightened and started for the back, her step slow enough for the woman to keep up on her crutches. “Sorry, but we don’t do pink here.”
When Mayer started after them, Dev stopped him with a hand to his chest, and pointed toward the chairs in the waiting area. “You can wait right over there.”
The guy stepped back with a frown. “What is your problem?”
“No problem. We’re just going to let Bells do her job, and then you can take Grandma and Pixie back home.”
A tick flickered near Mayer’s eye with Dev’s purposeful use of Shelby’s nickname. That vibe he’d gotten the first time he saw him twinged harder than ever as Mayer stalked over to take a seat. Dev stood right where he was until Shelby walked Mrs. Walters and Pixie back out a half-hour later. Then he took the leash to pass back to Mayer. No way was he going to let the guy even get close enough to touch her.
After paying her bill, Mrs. Walters made her way toward the exit on her crutches. Shelby stayed behind the counter, and Dev moved ahead to get the door with a conscious effort to not reveal any evidence of his limp.
The woman smiled her appreciation, and then said over her shoulder to Shelby, “Thank you again so much, dear. We’ll see you in a couple of months.”
“Without the boot,” she replied. “Take care of yourself and watch out for ice patches.”