Page 7 of Playing Santa

“I think you’re right,” Chloe says. Tate and I turn to her and I have to reign in my eagerness to pump her for details about what she saw that makes her think so. She pauses and grins. Chloe has more devil in her than Tate. Fuck.

“What makes you say that?” I ask in the coolest possible voice. There’s a limit to how vulnerable I want to be, how much teasing I want to take.

She laughs, but relents. “The way she looked at you like you were a juicy steak and she was a starving woman.”

“Cliché, Chloe. You can do better than that,” Tate says. She elbows him and they get playful and I decide it’s time to leave.

“Time for me to go.” They ignore me and Tate has her in a hold while she struggles to escape, laughing. Their eyes are on each other and their faces lit with that tell-tale flush. I get in my car and lower the window. “Get a room you two.”

They finally look at me like caught teens. Chloe laughs and Tate flicks me the finger. I grin and take off, warmth suffusing me. But the edge of anticipation overrides the warmth by the time I get home as I contemplate seeing Ronnie again.

* * *

It’s a tough night until I let the puppy sleep in my bed. The call to my darling sister didn’t go well. She said she’s not about to drop everything and come up to frigid Boston from Texas to puppy sit for me. She was excited to inform me that she has a new job and a new boyfriend. Great. Fine time for my kid sister to get her act together.

But I’m happy for her. And I have another idea forming in my gut about how to take care of Dasher.

Practice is early and I barely get out the door on time after getting Dasher settled in her cage. She stares at me like I’m betraying her as I leave and I can’t get her sad puppy eyes out of my head. But even if her sad eyes and whimpering don’t get to me, it’s not a good idea to leave her locked up all day and realize I need help sooner than later. Time to execute my plan.

I want to call Ronnie, but not just for help with Dasher. I want to hear her voice, to talk to her, get to know her, but I don’t have her number. Fuck. On the way to the stadium in my SUV, I call the shelter.

“East Boston Animal Shelter, Annamarie Garino speaking.”

“You’re the manager, right? I think we met yesterday. This is Sean Patrick.”

“Oh yes—Santa Claus, right?”

“That’s me. Look, I bought a puppy, Dasher and she’s great, but I wonder if you know anyone in the area who can help me with puppy sitting or walking during the day.” I know I need to play it at least a little cool. Can’t come off as the stalker-dude Tate’s accusing me of being.

Calling my bluff, Annamarie suggests a couple of doggie day cares and I reject the idea, insisting I want one-on-one attention.

“What about Ronnie and Jimmy?” I try not to sound like I have an agenda. “They already like Dasher. Maybe they can help me out.”

“I don’t see how,” she says, “Ronnie works full time here and Jimmy’s only six years old.”

“Ronnie gets a lunch hour, right?”

An uncomfortable pause fills my ear, but she relents. “Yes.” I wait for more. She gives me nothing and I realize I’m dealing with a cagey lady here, not some do-gooder pushover. No matter, I need to plunge forward. I have pure generosity on my side to go with the not as pure motives.

“I bet Ronnie could use the extra money. I pay well.”

There’s another beat of silence where I grip the steering wheel tighter than I need to.

“You’re right, she could use the money. But she usually takes her lunch break later in the afternoon to spend time with Jimmy when he gets out of school. Do you live nearby?”

“Ten minutes. Tops,” I say. I can hear her mind working in the silence, up to no good.

“You’re interested in Ronnie for more than dog watching.” She’s not asking and her voice is not quite stern, but warning.

“I like her and Jimmy. I…” I need to be honest. “I’d like a chance to get to know them better.” I pause to allow a response and Annamarie Garino gives me her silence yet again, so I go for broke. “Jimmy has his heart set on seeing Dasher again. I might have promised him—”

Garino sighs into the phone. “You got me with that one. He’s very attached to that pup. She—Ronnie can’t have pets where she lives and can’t afford the kind of place… well, let’s just say that she struggles. But she accepts no help. Gets no help from Jimmy’s father wherever the hell he is.”

“So he’s out of the picture?”

“He was never in the picture far as I can tell. Look, I shouldn’t be telling you about other people’s business. I don’t know what I’m thinking.” She laughs. “You have me charmed and I bet you weren’t even trying.”

Hope flares and my automatic smile pops out.