He whistled to call Pilot back, then strolled across the dry lot to meet her. “Same reason I had for poking around this morning. Looking for evidence to help us figure out what happened last night.” He cocked his head to one side as he studied her, trying not to notice how her sexy, slim, bare legs looked. Since this morning, she’d changed into shorts that hugged her bottom and left what seemed like a mile of long, tanned thighs and calves exposed. “What are you doing here still? With the shop closed, I’d have thought you’d be enjoying the day off.” He paused andnarrowed his eyes. “You haven’t disturbed the sales floor, have you? It’s off-limits until forensics is finished with it.”
She pulled her mouth into a slanted pout that matched the disdain in her eyes. “No. I know better than to mess with a crime scene. But the break room isn’t off-limits.”
He raised a hand in appeasement. “All right. Just wondering why you’re not catching a movie in town or getting a mani-pedi. At a minimum, you should be relaxing at home with a book or your favorite binge-worthy reality TV show.”
She gave a dismissive sniff. “A gift shop manager’s salary is not sufficient to blow money on movies or professionally applied nail polish. I can do that for myself for free.”
He fought the urge to check out the color of her toenails, although the effort to appear uninterested in her feet was a physical ache.
“As for reality TV,” she said, looking down her nose at him, “never watched it, never will. I have better things to do with my time and plenty of drama in my own life without wallowing in the manufactured drama of others.”
Her comment on drama reminded him that she’d been arrested for contempt of court. He was about to ask her about it when she said, “I’m perfectly capable of staying busy without frivolous expenses.”
His cheek twitched, and he couldn’t help grinning. “Like building cathouses for strays out of cardboard boxes?”
Color stained her cheeks, and she gave a quick telltale glance to the structure behind him. For the briefest moment, she appeared embarrassed, but then her shoulders squared and her mouth tightened. “Yeah? What of it? Joy needed a shady place to hang out, and I had time on my hands. What’s wrong with making a shelter for her?”
“Joy? You’ve named the cat?”
One dark brown eyebrow sketched up. “So? What of it?”
“Joy?” he repeated. “The wild, three-pound, hissing ball of razor claws?”
Jules rolled her eyes. “It’s called irony, Sheriff.”
“Cal.”
She shot him a now familiar scowl. “What?”
“When I’m here on unofficial business, I see no need for formality. Call me Callum. Or Cal for short, like my siblings and most of my friends do.”
“So this isn’t an official visit? You’re snooping around the field behind the gift shop for fun?”
“Sorta. It’s business-related but on my own time. Call it curiosity and a chance to keep my dog’s skills on point.”
Her gaze shifted to Pilot, and something warm lit her eyes. “That’s your dog?”
“Huh? Oh, no.Thatdog just followed me here. I have no idea who that dog is,” he said, keeping a confused look on his face. He glanced around as if looking for something. “You seen a miniature poodle around here? Pink bow, topknot and painted toenails? Foofoo, where are you?”
She sneered. “Very funny.”
He chuckled and turned to whistle for Pilot, who’d wandered toward the side parking lot, still sniffing the ground. On command, Pilot raised his head and loped over to sit at Cal’s feet. “Good boy, Pilot.”
Jules’s eyes widened. “Wow. Impressive. That’s an obedient dog.”
“He’s been trained to be obedient and has had years of practice.” Cal fished in his pocket for another dog treat and tossed it to his Labrador retriever.
Without asking, Jules crouched by Pilot and ruffled the fur along his neck and behind his ears. “Aren’t you a good puppy? Hey there, handsome. How are you?”
“Um…” Cal cleared his throat. “He’s a working dog, and it’s bad form for the general public to pat working dogs without permission. Especially when they are on the job.”
Jules shot a guilty look up at Cal. Her mouth opened and closed before she stood, her cheeks pinking again, and muttered, “I know that. But aren’t working dogs supposed to wear a vest identifying them as working dogs?”
Cal bobbed his head once in concession. “True. Usually. Pilot has a vest at home. But it’s hot, and I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here, so I left it at home.”
Pilot, tail wagging, walked over to Jules and nudged her hand with his nose.
She peered down at his Lab and crooned in a sweet voice, “I’m sorry. Your mean daddy says I can’t love on you.”
