don’t close until three.”
“Right…good to know.”
Kill. Me. Now.
Grabbing my Americano and cinnamon roll, I headed out the door before I made an even bigger fool of myself. I had no clue where the smooth, confident man I’d once been had disappeared to. Willa did that to me. I couldn’t leave the shop fast enough.
With my heart pounding like a locomotive struggling up a steep incline, I speed-walked across the street to a small park and slumped down on the bench. I felt like a loser. How was it that I could face a raging bull elephant in the Maasai Mara in Africa with no more protection than a camera lens without a qualm? Yet facing a pretty girl and asking her to dinner left me shaken to the core. How had that happened? I had to wonder if Nikki had played a role in that and decided she hadn’t. This was all me and my own insecurities.
The array of brightly colored flowers surrounding the base of a tree captured my attention, and, seeking a distraction, I took a shot with my phone. I took another picture of the front of Bean There, too. I was far more comfortable behind the lens of a camera than I ever was standing before a pitcher in a major league game.
I considered coming back later with something more professional than my phone and taking additional photos of Willa’s shop. I could enlarge one and frame it for her.
While I was staring at the shop, I noticed a stray dog. I’d caught sight of him several times over the last few weeks. He was excessively thin, to the point that his ribs were showing. He lingered near the entrance to Willa’s place of business. I imagined the mutt smelled the baked goods she used to lure in customers and suspected she might have fed him a time or two.
Sure enough, the minute the door opened the stray was ready. A middle-aged woman I didn’t recognize walked out with coffee in one hand and a white sack in the other. As if this was exactly what he’d been waiting for, the dog sprang forward. He grabbed hold of the sack and raced off.
The woman screeched, but it didn’t help. Her goodies had been ripped from her hand and the dog had made it look easy.
The stray was a blur as he raced toward the beach. Usually I saw him hanging around the local pizza parlor. How he’d managed to avoid getting taken to the Humane Society before now was proof of his craftiness. This dog was street-savvy. I had to admire his ingenuity.
Dogs were my weakness—well, other than baristas, and Willa Lakey in particular. If my career didn’t involve as much travel as it did, I would gladly have taken a dog as a pet. My life was solitary. If I wasn’t taking photos, I was spending time in front of my computer, editing my work. I would have enjoyed a canine companion.
After watching the dog’s quick moves, I felt the least I could do was see about making sure this fella found a good home. One thing was for sure, I’d need to be as cagey as he was, and that required a bit of help. Thankfully, I knew the best place to find it.
I dumped my nearly untouched Americano into the garbage and jogged over to the beach. I found evidence of what was left of the stolen breakfast. The white sack was tattered and torn, and there wasn’t a crumb left of its contents. I picked up the bag and tossed it. Glancing up and down the beach, I thought I caught a movement and saw him take off in the direction of the pizza parlor.
Getting back into my car, I drove past the back entrance of the pizza place and saw nothing. From there I went to the animal shelter. I knew Preston Young and his wife, Mellie, were big animal lovers. Mellie helped nurse sick and injured cats and dogs back to health, and Preston made sure they went to good homes.
I walked inside the shelter to a cacophony of barks and other noise. Preston was great about getting volunteers to come in and care for the animals. He had an entire crew that walked the dogs and saw that they all received an ample amount of tender loving care. He glanced up when I entered the building and greeted me with a mildly curious look. From the moment