Thompson raised his radio to his mouth the next time she spun into view. “Working on it, boss.”
“Tell him I’m glaring at him.”
The last thing she saw as she coasted to the back of the ride was the older men raising their hands in farewell. By the time she emerged, Thompson was walking Manny and two of the other midway regulars in the direction of the south gate.
“Cass, you read me?”
The sound of Jake’s new-but-all-too-familiar voice coming from her radio was disorienting. She dropped the packet of mustard she was squeezing into a pool at the corner of the container and scowled at the handset.
She narrowed her eyes, then took her time licking a smudge of mustard from her thumb before answering.
“Walker here.”
“Max and I are on our way back.”
She scowled and pressed the talk button hard. “Don’t mind me. You go do your thing.”
“This is my thing.”
“Don’t you have things to go sniff with your dog?”
Jake didn’t respond and Cassidy immediately regretted her flippancy. She wasn’t usually one to lose her cool in the midst of an emergency, but she couldn’t play it cool with Jake Donovan. Hadn’t been able to pull it off when she was seventeen, and apparently she hadn’t developed the skill at age thirty-two.
The thud of boots hitting the metal deck followed by the scratch of toenails alerted her to their arrival. “I’m fine, Jake,” she grumbled grouchily without turning around.
“I need to talk to you about the message,” he said, matching her stubborn tone.
“No, I need to talk to this Aronson guy about the message.”
“He sent me,” he insisted.
“You must be expendable.”
He appeared at the end of the bench, and she sighed heavily as she set the to-go box aside, holding a pretzel pinched between her fingers.
“I am, but Max isn’t,” he said in a surly tenor. “They’ve invested a good deal of time and money in training him.”
Cassidy lowered her head, figuring it was easier to look at the dog than the man. But Max’s amber gaze locked on the nugget and his jaw dropped, allowing his pink tongue to roll out like a cartoon carpet. She couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful gleam in those sober eyes.
She stretched her hand out to offer the dog the tidbit, but Jake’s clipped command stopped her.
“No.”
She and Max tipped their heads up at the same time. Cassidy honestly wasn’t sure if the word was meant for her or the dog or both. “No?”
He gave his head a quick shake. “Max doesn’t eat people food. Some boiled chicken once in a while, but mostly no. It’s not good for him.”
The pleading look in the German shepherd’s eyes said he was more than willing to experiment, but she quickly palmed the treat. “Sorry.”
In one swift but not too subtle move, she tossed the pretzel over her shoulder. But rather than sailing forth onto the asphalt, it landed with a soft plunk on the metal platform. Max’s yearning eyes followed the morsel’s trajectory, but he made no move to go after it.
“Sorry.” She spoke directly to the dog. “You are well trained.”
Jake stroked the fur between the dog’s enormous ears. “He’s a good trooper.” He dropped beside her on the bench and nodded to her phone. “What did the message say?”
“Your boss scared of merry-go-rounds or something?” she challenged.
“I think he has his hands full with the governor.”
