A Spot of Trouble

by Teri Wilson

  Baseball, or in this case softball, had a lot in common with firefighting, as it turned out. There was the same spirit of camaraderie and friendship on a sports team that came with working alongside a firefighting crew—living, eating, and sleeping under the same roof each and every shift. Playing ball had almost made Sam miss his days fighting fires instead of working a desk job, doing inspections, and issuing fire code violations.

  He couldn’t go there again, though. Sam had already violated almost every rule he’d made for himself before his move to Turtle Beach. He’d formed friendships when he’d intended to stick to himself, he’d become deeply involved in a community that was only supposed to be a quiet place to lay his head at night, and he’d let his emotions get in the way of his job by issuing citation after citation to Violet.

  She’d deserved them, to be sure, and Sam had only been doing his duty as fire marshal. But he’d enjoyed scribbling those tickets out to her time and time again. He couldn’t help it. He’d loved every minute of it, just as she’d seemed to enjoy doing everything within her power to get under his skin.

  Now she seemed to live there—under his skin. And in the most flagrant of all the violations of his self-imposed rules, Sam had gone and developed feelings for her.

  His footsteps slowed to a stop as he and Cinder arrived at the dog beach. He bent to unclip his Dalmatian’s leash, and then he pulled a tennis ball from his pocket and threw it into the surf. Cinder leapt over shallow waves and dog-paddled into the whitecaps to clamp the ball in her jaws. Sam shaded the sun from his eyes as she galloped back toward him and dropped the ball at his feet. He picked it up and tossed it again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

  “Cinder sure seems to be enjoying herself,” someone behind Sam said.

  He turned to find Mavis Hubbard, Violet’s friend from the senior center, watching his dog with a sparkle in her eyes. Her little Chihuahua pranced in dainty circles around her feet, darting away from the water anytime a wave rushed close.

  “Good morning, Mavis.” Sam grinned at the tiny animal. “You too, Nibbles.”

  Nibbles batted at his shins with her impossibly small paws, and he bent to run a hand over her narrow back.

  Mavis gave him a curious glance. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be busy getting ready for the big game today.”

  “We’re about to head down to the softball field. I just wanted to give Cinder a chance to run off some steam first.”

  Cinder returned with the tennis ball, dropped it onto the sand, and nudged it toward Nibbles with her nose.

  “Ah, yes. I heard that Cinder has been rather excitable lately. Something about a dip in the bay last night?” Mavis’s right eyebrow shot up.

  Of course she’d heard. The whole island was probably talking about it.

  “Cinder is fine,” Sam said. “It was nothing.”

  “Was it, now?” Mavis studied him.

  Sam looked away. This conversation was getting a little unnerving. “It was sort of fun, actually. But I’m sure you heard all about that too.”

  A smile tugged at Mavis’s lips. “There’s more than a little truth to the old notion about opposites attracting, isn’t there? Sometimes the last thing we expected turns out to be the very thing we needed all along.”

  Sam wasn’t dense. There was no way they were still talking about dogs and Cinder’s recent Dalmatian insubordination.

  “Mavis,” Sam warned. “You’re not supposed to be playing matchmaker anymore, remember?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. I wouldn’t dream of interfering in your personal life.”

  A fib if Sam had ever heard one. Oh, if sprinkler heads could talk…

  “For your information, I was referring to my new boyfriend.” A smile danced on Mavis’s lips.

  Well. This was news.

  Sam grinned and tried not to think about the fact that the seventy-plus crowd apparently had a far more active social life than he did. “New boyfriend? Go Mavis.”

  “Violet introduced us.”

  Why wasn’t Sam the least bit surprised by this detail?

  “Don’t tell anyone, but he’s a—” Mavis glanced around, as if eavesdroppers might be lurking behind a nearby sand dune. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “—cat person.”

  Sam’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Say it isn’t so.”

  “I know, right?” Mavis scooped her Chihuahua into her arms and kissed the top of her tiny, round head. “But Skippy and Nibbles get along just fine. Like peanut butter and jelly.”

  “I’m glad you’ve found someone who makes you happy, Mavis,” Sam said, and an unexpected wave of emotion hit him square in his chest. Maybe he wasn’t as content to spend the rest of his life alone as he’d thought he would be.

  He and Violet weren’t meant for each other, though—no matter how tempting the idea. Deep down, Sam knew this. Even if he wasn’t a firefighter, and even if the softball feud ceased to exist—which seemed about as impossible as Cinder’s spots falling off—he and Violet had nothing whatsoever in common. They were about as opposite as two people could be. Sam sometimes wondered if that was one of the reasons he’d been so attracted to her in the first place. Caring for Violet was safe…because nothing real would ever come of it.

  Mavis’s eyes narrowed, as if she could read his mind. Or maybe Sam’s current state of denial was written all over his face. Probably the latter.

  “Just remember, Sam. Love is a rare and precious thing.” Mavis winked at Cinder before she deposited Nibbles into her walker basket and prepared to walk away. “And when it’s real, it’s more than just black-and-white.”

  Sam attached Cinder’s leash to her collar and jogged back to his cottage with Mavis’s parting words ringing in his head.

  She clearly hadn’t given up on her matchmaking, no matter what sort of promises she’d made to Violet. And she wasn’t half bad at it, he’d give her that.

  But now wasn’t the time to let a meddling grandmother figure convince him he was in love. He had to get his head in the game or else. Today could mean the difference between spending his Saturday afternoons dressed as a cupcake or having the satisfaction of watching Violet’s dog learn some basic manners. It was no contest, really. By winning the bet, he’d be doing a service for the community at large.

  Sam got Cinder cleaned up and dressed in her TBFD working dog vest, pulled on his softball uniform and cleats, and wasted no time getting to the ball field. The stands were packed when he arrived, without an empty seat in sight, but people were still approaching the softball diamond with lawn chairs tucked under their arms.

  “What’s going on?” he asked Griff. “This is twice as many spectators as we usually have.”

  Griff paused from the series of walking lunges he’d been doing—a warmup technique that Sam had taught him. “It’s the championship game, man. Guns and Hoses has never been won in a sweep. We’ve got the chance to make history today.”

  Sam nodded, but when he took another look at the ever-growing collection of lawn chairs, picnic blankets, and foam fingers, his attention snagged on the pink spinning cupcake that rose above the crowd.

  “No pressure, though, right?” Griff laughed.

  “Right. No pressure,” Sam said absently, craning his neck for a glimpse of Violet.

  Griff followed Sam’s gaze and shook his head. “Nope. No way, man. Now is not the time to be distracted by your alleged enemy. Just look away. Let’s toss the ball back and forth or something. You need to focus.”

  “What do you mean by ‘alleged’? We’re actual adversaries,” Sam said. Good grief, could he sound any more ridiculous?

  “Sure you are.” Griff tossed a mitt at Sam, but Cinder jumped up and caught it in her jaws before Sam could grab it. “Look, I know all about your little dip in the bay last night. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but it can’t hap
pen—not until this tournament is over.”

  “Griff.” Sam’s jaw clenched. He was growing weary of denying that he and Violet were romantically involved. Perhaps to himself most of all.

  “I mean it. This tournament is a big deal. Have you considered that perhaps Violet has orchestrated this entire love–hate flirtation the two of you have going on purely for distraction purposes?” Griff jerked his head toward the cupcake truck.

  Sam stared at him, aghast. “Not possible. Violet’s not like that.”

  Of course, if she were looking for payback after Emmett’s betrayal last season, messing with the fire department’s star player would certainly do the trick.

  Griff shrugged. “Whatever you say. No one cares what you and Violet get up to after softball season is over. Heck, you can even ask her to the Fireman’s Ball if you want. Just put a pin in things until after the last game. I’m begging you.”

  “Fireman’s Ball?” Sam said. Cinder cocked her head. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “It’s a big formal thing we do every Fourth of July. A tradition.” Griff’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. You’re going to ask her right now, aren’t you?”

  Griff covered his face with his mitt and groaned.

  “No.” Sam’s gaze darted to the cupcake truck and then back at Griff’s beleaguered expression. “Of course not, but I am going to have a little chat with her.”

  He didn’t want to believe she’d been toying with him, especially knowing he’d opened himself up to her in a way that he hadn’t with anyone else. He didn’t believe it…except it sounded just crazy enough to be possible, given the hype surrounding Guns and Hoses.

  Sam needed to talk to her—now—just to be sure. If he didn’t, he’d be thinking about it for the entire game. All seven torturous innings.

  “Please don’t,” Griff said.

  But it was too late. Sam had already begun stomping toward the spinning pink cupcake with his Dalmatian hot on his heels.

  ***

  Violet’s loyalties were clear—she was rooting for the police department to pull through and prevent the fire department from winning in a sweep. Naturally. She and Sam had a wager, and she fully intended to collect on her bet.

  But she was also a businesswoman, so while her heart had most definitely chosen sides, her cupcake offerings on this most important of days catered to both teams. The Sprinkles Special spotty Dalmatian cupcakes had still been her best sellers so far, with the Guns and Hoses team cupcakes she’d created coming in a close second in precisely even quantities. With a quarter of an hour left before the opening pitch, Violet held a Guns cupcake in her left hand and a Hoses cupcake in her right when the line at the window of her food truck parted to make way for Sam, once again marching toward her at a most inopportune moment. Cinder galloped behind him with her cute black-and-white ears flapping in the wind.

  Again? What was this—some sort of Dalmatian déjà vu?

  Anxiety swirled around Violet, even as her heart did a delighted little flip-flop. The entire town was watching, including her dad and Coach Murray, who were both planted on opposite sides of the softball diamond with their hands on their hips.

  “Sam.” She wanted to reach through the window and squish both cupcakes into his swoonworthy face. “What are you doing?”

  “I need to talk to you. Right now.” His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “And preferably alone.”

  “I have customers,” she said.

  “And I have a game to play.” He gestured at the chaos surrounding them as—much to Violet’s amusement—Cinder collapsed at his feet and began gnawing on his shoelaces. “But this is important.”

  Violet plunked the cupcakes down on the counter and dusted off her hands. “Fine. Meet me at the side door.”

  She slammed the order window closed and hustled toward the trailer door, but Sam started pounding on it like a Neanderthal before she got there.

  “What on earth”—she swung the door open, grabbed the front of his softball jersey and hauled him inside—“could possibly be so urgent?”

  Sam practically crashed into her in the tiny space. Before the door closed behind him, Cinder wormed her way inside too. The interior of Sweetness on Wheels felt like it was shrinking by the second.

  Violet lifted her chin to meet Sam’s gaze and prayed that he couldn’t somehow tell that she’d slept in his contraband T-shirt the night before. When their eyes met, his expression slowly changed. Violet watched it morph from irritation to something else—something that made her breath hitch.

  “What’s the matter?” she managed to say. “Dalmatian got your tongue?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped into a reluctant grin. “Still not a thing.”

  Cinder shimmied on her belly toward Sprinkles’s pink crate. Their tails both beat against the floor in perfect unison. Violet almost envied them. No one expected an innocent Dalmatian to choose sides in a softball feud, after all.

  As much as she loved Dalmatians, though, Violet didn’t want to be one. If she were a dog, she probably wouldn’t have felt such a lovely warmth flowing through her while Sam gazed down at her, trying to form words for whatever it was that he wanted to say.

  “Seriously, Sam. What’s this all about?” She tried her best to keep both her head and heart right there in the cupcake truck and not back on the sofa in Sam’s cozy beach cottage. She wasn’t altogether successful.

  “I need to ask you an important question. Are you…could you…” Sam paused, swallowing before he continued. “Would you go to the Fireman’s Ball with me on the Fourth of July?”

  Violet felt her eyes go wide.

  Sam frowned, and his eyebrows drew together as if he were confused…as if he’d meant to ask her something else altogether.

  Was he insane? She couldn’t go to the Fireman’s Ball with him. The ball was a fancy, elaborate affair. It took place on an enormous yacht floating in the bay and strung with twinkle lights. The firefighters wore dress uniforms with white gloves, and their dates either wore floor-length evening gowns or tuxes. At midnight, glittering fireworks went off over the water.

  Violet had never been, obviously. Not even when she’d been dating Emmett, since everything had so spectacularly fallen apart well before the Fourth of July.

  “What about Guns and Hoses?” she said. “The tournament could go on for another two weeks. If it does, the championship game would take place…”

  “On the Fourth.” Sam nodded. “I know.”

  Violet shook her head. “I don’t know what to say, Sam.”

  “Say yes. Forget about Guns and Hoses. Let’s agree to do this—you and me, no matter what happens on the softball diamond.” Intensity rolled off him. It was almost enough to make Violet believe that was he was saying was possible.

  She took a shaky inhale. “No matter what?”

  “No matter what.” He reached for her hands and squeezed them tight.

  This was madness. A million things could happen between now and the Fourth of July, and not one possible scenario ended with both of them winning. The only possible answer to his question was a resounding no.

  She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the word that slipped out was quite the opposite.

  “Yes,” she heard herself say.

  Wait, that wasn’t right. That’s not what she‘d meant to tell him at all.

  Sam grinned and Violet’s knees turned to water. “Yes?”

  “Yes,” she said again, and this time there was an imaginary exclamation point after her answer. Yes! Yes, yes, yes. “No matter what happens.”

  “No matter what,” he murmured, and then he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

  And the moment his lips came down on hers, Violet knew this kiss was different from the others. There was an urgency in the way he held her, and a desperation in her grip as she balled
his jersey into her fists. She and Sam were no longer playing games. This was happening…and it was real. No matter what.

  “I’ve got to go win a bet now,” he whispered into her hair as he held her tight.

  “I’d wish you good luck, but you know it would be a lie,” she said.

  Would it, though? Did she even care how this tournament turned out anymore? Violet wasn’t altogether sure. Somewhere along the way, things had changed between her and Sam. Whatever they were, she liked it a lot more than simply being softball adversaries.

  Violet didn’t even like softball. How had she let herself get so caught up in all of this feud craziness in the first place?

  “See you later.” Sam gave her another quick kiss—tender and sweet this time—and then he called Cinder to follow him.

  He flashed her a wink as the door to the cupcake truck swung shut behind him.

  Violet sighed dreamily and sagged against the counter. “Did that really just happen, Sprinkles?”

  The Dalmatian yipped and did a little tap dance inside her pink crate.

  “Don’t you worry. Your days of being imprisoned are numbered.” Violet grinned as she slid the order window back open.

  The first six innings of the game passed in a blur. Violet did her best to keep up with the action on the softball diamond, but she had a constant stream of customers throughout the morning. She’d never sold so many cupcakes in her life. It was a good thing she’d made extra.

  As the game wore on, she noticed that people seemed to be ordering the Dalmatian cupcakes almost exclusively. During a quiet moment in the top of the seventh inning, she planted her elbows on the counter and peered toward the field.

  The police department was up by just one hit. The Hoses were up to bat, and Sam waited on the bench, next in line. As usual, Cinder was situated right beside him. But her behavior was strikingly different than it had been during the other games she’d attended. Come to think of it, Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Sam’s dog so excited.