The owner puckered her lips, aiming for the dog’s snout as she cooed and scratched under its chin. “Poor Pumpkin. Sweet baby, Momma’s going to take care of you.”
I positioned myself between my target and the door. “Aren’t you the cutest? I love Pomeranians.” The dog licked my hand when I reached in for a pat. “He is so perfect,” I squealed.
Delayne beamed at my praise of her pampered pooch. “His sire was a Grand Champion,” she said with a proud smile. “Pumpkin would have been also, but I didn’t want to make his anxiety worse by forcing him to perform.” She smoothed her hand over the thick fur on his back. “He’s been unwell this morning. Poor darling gets so worked up at the groomers he makes himself sick. I couldn’t put him through it today.”
“Well, Pumpkin”—I smiled and tapped him lightly on the nose—“It’s your lucky day because I’m a vet.” I glanced at Delayne with my chin low. “There are some nasty canine viruses going around right now. It’s probably best if I take a quick look to be sure he hasn’t contracted something.” When I held my arms toward Pumpkin, Mrs. Brady handed him over without a second thought.
“Would you? Thank you.”
While clutching a wriggling Pumpkin, I did my best impersonation of a vet by checking his ears, eyes, and mouth.
Hurry up, Brandon.
Fresh out of stalling tactics, I smiled at Delayne. “The good news is, he seems completely healthy.”
Her hand flew to her chest. “Thank God!”
“The bad news is”—I took a retreating step—“he’s coming with me.”
I turned and bolted down the sidewalk. I could still hear Mrs. Brady screaming for help as I sprinted around the corner.
Brandon hopped into the driver’s side of his truck and laid his laptop satchel on the rear seat. Calmly, he started the car and took us into the midmorning city traffic.
“I got it,” he said without taking his eyes from the road.
I exhaled a relieved breath.
“Marcus Brady received a rather urgent-sounding call from his wife. He tore out of the apartment with a speed rarely seen from a portly fifty-eight-year-old. Lucky, because I had to venture into their bedroom to find the invitation in a coat pocket.” He eyed me sideways with one brow arched. “Were you by any chance involved in a dognapping a short while ago?”
I cleared my throat while plucking orange fur from my jeans. “It wasn’t my finest moment, but I have no regrets.”
Brandon’s lips twitched up. “You saved my ass.” His grin spread wide as he turned to face me. “Good work.”
Oh God. That smile hit me with the force of a supernova, as if not seeing it for half a day had amplified its power. That, and I’d started to wonder if I’d ever see it again since he probably hated me.
“What did you do with the dog?” Brandon asked.
“Took him for a fast walk around the block while frantically praying the police were too busy to respond to dog abductions. Then I tied him to the streetlamp out front of the Brady’s apartment, dialed the number on the dog’s tag and told the wailing woman that her precious baby was back home. I kept an eye on Pumpkin from the truck while the Bradys returned from their search, just in case anyone tried to steal him a second time today.” I winced. “Think I’m going to need you to do that security-camera-erasing thing. Sorry to add to your workload.”
Brandon rolled his window down, rested an elbow on the sill while his fingers tapped the top of the doorframe, and for the briefest of moments, I glimpsed the farm boy he’d once been. “I can manage that,” he said, and the small, amused smile he still wore caused my stomach to tumble off a cliff.
“So, what now?” I asked.
Brandon turned to me. “Now, we go shopping.”