rarely crossed him for any reason. Had she subconsciously dimmed her own personality to accommodate his?
Could she move past his recent indiscretion and forget, as well as forgive?
Worry about that later, she scolded. Focus on today and the task at hand.
Tutu caught Gretchen’s attention when she trotted down the hall and whined at the front door. Nimrod trailed at a distance.
“Okay,” Gretchen said in a surly tone. “I’m coming. But be quick about it.”
She opened the door, and Tutu ran out. The dog didn’t stop in the yard to sniff around and find the perfect spot, and if Gretchen had been more awake, she would have remembered that Tutu preferred wee-wee pads and indoor plumbing over normal dog outhouses.
Tutu lowered her body close to the ground and ran full-out down the street without a single glance back, like an escaped convict with the irresistible taste of freedom in her mouth.
Gretchen stood in the doorway with her mouth open in shock. Recovering somewhat, she slammed the door before Nimrod had the chance to join in the escape. Running barefoot into the street, she shouted Tutu’s name. The spoiled schnoodle was nowhere in sight.
Gretchen had managed to lose Nina’s dog mere moments after beginning her dog-sitting assignment.
She had a decision to make. Follow the demented dog immediately in bare feet, wearing Nina’s pink and lime green robe, or quickly change into her own clothes and pull on her sandals. Tutu already had a wide lead, and Gretchen’s only hope of catching up with her would be if the roving rascal encountered a distraction. A cute boy dog would do the trick.
Gretchen gasped. What if Tutu was in heat?
An image of Nina’s reaction to the loss of her prized pet trotted through Gretchen’s head, replaced quickly by an image of Tutu giving birth to schnoodle mutts.
She took off running.
The desert morning heat was already oppressive. The pavement under her feet felt hot and sticky. A bird perching on an overhead electrical wire panted through its small, open beak, and the sound of sprinklers laboring to water the lush tropical yards filled the air.
And sun, sun, blazing sun everywhere.
“Wait up,” she heard someone call out behind her. She whirled to see Matt Albright loping toward her, wearing running shoes, cargo shorts, and a yellow T-shirt. He looked fresh and scrubbed, and he wore that dazzling yet deceptive smile.
Gretchen turned back to the task at hand and continued running, squinting against the sun’s intense rays and wishing for a good pair of sunglasses more than a pair of shoes.
“I heard you were an avid runner, but your commitment astounds me,” he said, catching up. “Me? I would have changed out of the robe and probably worn shoes.”
“There are vast differences between the two of us, Albright.” Gretchen ignored the pain in her tender soles. “For example, if it was my investigation, I’d be out questioning Martha’s acquaintances, and I’d be compiling a list of suspects.”
“My henchmen take care of that,” he said, jogging easily. “Can I get a picture of this?”
“Of what?” Gretchen peered between houses as they ran side by side. If she had shoes on, she could leave him in her desert dust.
“A picture of you jogging in your cute robe.”
“Go away,” Gretchen said, huffing slightly.
Matt stopped running and fell behind. “If you step on a scorpion, you’ll be back at the hospital,” he called after her. “I spent enough time waiting around there for you yesterday.”
Gretchen slowed and stopped, staring at the ground with growing panic. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Scorpion stings were excruciatingly painful, according to reports by several Arizonians who had been stung and lived to tell about it. Their venom wasn’t deadly, but death seemed preferable to the pain they inflicted.
“They have clear bodies and that makes them hard to see.” He stood with both hands on his hips. “Anyway, that isn’t what you’re looking for? What’s up?”
“Tutu escaped.”
“The yappy mutt?” he said. “I thought she seemed in a rush when she blasted out of the yard.” Matt looked down the block. “But are you sure you want to find her?”
“Tempting thought, but I have to. Nina would kill me.”
“I’ll help then. I wouldn’t want to be partially responsible for your demise.”
After a brief consultation on the best search tactics, they returned to the house, Gretchen walking gingerly, alert to the threat of stinging monsters. Matt walked another half block to get his car. He waited outside while Gretchen changed into the same clothes she had worn yesterday: