Page 50 of Wag More Bark Less

“I’m hoping it’ll be the best one, so I’m saving it for last,” she said, looking both ways before crossing the middle of the street.

She glanced back at me, as though daring me to call her out for jaywalking. Instead, I followed her.

“Welcome in, Chief,” Sally McGraff greeted when I stepped through the door. The place smelled of warm waffle cones and cinnamon. “You want your usual?”

Maggie looked back at me, her eyes twinkling under raised eyebrows.

“What? Are you surprised I have a go-to ice cream flavor?”

“I’m surprised you have a sweet tooth hiding behind that sour exterior.”

“Oh, Chief loves his sweets,” Sally offered, as though telling a complete stranger about my personal dessert preferences was normal. Oh hell, who was I kidding? In this town, it was. “He comes in at least twice a week, even in winter.”

“And you were worried about me being cold?” Maggie said, shaking her head.

“Chocolate-dipped cone or regular tonight?” Sally held up my two options. “Cones were made fresh this morning,” she added to Maggie.

“Chocolate,” I said. To Maggie, I added, “I do remember to wear a coat.”

“I’m not going to get cold,” Maggie insisted. “It’s like ice cream law.”

“Ice cream law?”

“What’s your usual?” Maggie asked me, eyes directed at the colorful chalk menu on the wall behind Sally. I followed her gaze, noting two of the flavors were crossed out, but there were still a dozen to choose from.

“The Salty Caramel,” I said.

“Sweet and salty.” Maggie ran her eyes up and down my body, as though assessing me. “Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“Here you go, Chief.” Sally handed over a cone with a generous dollop of salted caramel ice cream on top.

“I’m going to try the Gimme S’more,” Maggie decided. “Seems like the perfect nod to fall.”

“Great choice,” Sally said.

“You have a firepit, right?” Maggie asked me, pulling her phone from her pocket.

“I do,” I confirmed.

“A shared firepit?” She swiped through several screens, and as much as I pretended not to pay attention, I stiffened when the video mode took over her phone. “I wouldn’t want to get evicted for breaking the rules.”

“You can use the firepit, Maggie.”

She smiled at me, and simply said, “Thanks.” It was the most normal moment we’d shared since she showed up at my rental with a pile of luggage and understandable disdain for the host.

“Are you going to livestream or something?”

Because I’d been so set on avoiding the woman, I never bothered to ask anything about her, including what she did for a living—or even for fun. If she was some kind of influencer, I didn’t want to be a part of her broadcast.

“It’s just a video message,” she said, holding up the phone until she was in the frame. She hit the red circle and waved at the camera. “Hey, Vi! Not to make you guys jealous, but I’m getting s’mores ice cream in the cutest ice cream shop ever. Look at this.” She spun to capture the glass case behind her filled with waffle cones. “Sally hand makes all these, and they smell so good.” Sally waved at the camera. “I ordered the Gimmie S’more, and I can’t wait to try it.” As if on cue, Sally handed Maggie her cone. “Look at this beauty!”

I grabbed a yogurt-dipped dog treat from the bucket beside the register and slipped Sally a twenty as Maggie wrapped up her message. Sally thanked me with a wink.

Two blocks later, our ice cream was gone, and Maggie was visibly shivering, despite her best efforts to hide it from me.

“Ice cream law my ass,” I mumbled as I once again slipped off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

“You don’t have to keep doing that,” Maggie said, slipping her arms through my jacket that once again swallowed her tiny frame.