Khloe knocked on the open door with a small pie tin that held a cut-up strawberry. She set it in front of Sammy. “Lunchtime.”

Sammy opened his eyes and dug in, looking ecstatic.

Alison sighed and shut and locked the door. “I know I wasn’t a good friend, Ryan. And I know how important that is to you. I’m hoping for a second chance there.”

Sammy began to bang on his empty tin. They looked down to find it already empty and his entire wrinkly face covered in strawberries.

“I think he wants more,” Ryan said.

Dammit. “Hold, please.” She rushed from the room, hit up the staff room fridge, grabbed another strawberry and a knife, and made her way back to the office. She crouched next to Sammy, cut up the strawberry in the tin, and met Ryan’s amused eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s cute, you taking care of Sammy. And Killer. And your employees. And your business partner.” He smiled. “It’s a new look, watching you care. I like it.”

Alison was speechless, a rare condition for her. “You like seeing me as a total mess, slimed by Hog slobber and covered in fur, running around like a chicken without a head?”

“I like seeing you invested. Unguarded.”

All those dates they’d gone on, she’d spent so much time making sure her clothes and makeup and hair looked perfect. She’d been so careful to put forward her best-looking self. And yet Ryan liked how she looked right now, harried and swamped. “You’re a strange man.”

“True story.” He studied her for a long beat. “I’ve got a couple of people coming over tomorrow night for a barbecue. Interested?”

She opened her mouth to ask which people, but managed to stop herself. “What can I bring?”

Before he could answer, someone banged on the door. “Hey, hate to interrupt,” Emma said through the wood, “but we’ve got two new clients and I need help.”

Oh my God. Alison whipped open the door to kill someone, but Emma was holding a black-and-white fuzzy dog in her arms.

“This is Bandit,” Emma said. “I’m going to check her in. Can you handle the other one?”

“Yeah.” Alison gave Ryan an apologetic smile. “I’ll be quick!” She ran out front. There were two women at the front counter, one in her fifties, the other in her eighties. “Hi,” she said breathlessly. “My partner said you wanted to check in a pet. Dog or cat?”

The woman in her fifties jerked a thumb at the older woman. “Human. This is my mom, Phyllis.”

Phyllis crossed her bony arms. She was maybe five feet tall with gray corkscrew curls tight to her head, skin wrinkled and slack, and an unlit cigarette dangling out of her mouth that looked like it’d been there since 1960.

And that’s when Alison recognized her. Phyllis had been the supervisor at the women’s center where Alison had volunteered in high school for a scholarship she’d never received. Great. This was going to be just great.

“I should be back by five,” Phyllis’s daughter said, “but just in case, what’s your late policy?”

Alison held up a finger. “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back.” She went through the door to the back again and found Emma in the “sweet” yard with the dogs. “What the actual fuck?”

Emma, on her knees next to Bandit, introducing him to Hog, choked out a laugh and covered Bandit’s ears. “Watch the language in front of the impressionable ears.”

“Oh, well, excuse me,” Alison said. “What the actual hell?”

“Still a bad word. You owe the jar. Twice.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Since when do we take on geriatrics? Especially the mean-ass woman who was the supervisor at the women’s center?”

“Oh, we’re not charging for Phyllis. I don’t think that would be cool, not to mention possibly illegal. She’s just hanging out here today because her daughter, Cathy, has to work. She’s a librarian, and apparently she tried bringing her mom to the library, but she yelled at everyone and Cathy was asked to not bring her anymore.”

“And you thought Phyllis would be fine here?” Alison asked in disbelief. “You remember her, right? Mean as a snake? Evil?”

“Actually, she was always very kind to me,” Emma said.

Of course. Because everyone loved Emma. Whatever.

“And anyway, we already have Miss Kitty, and I think she’s making us all scarves. And there’s Dale too. He loves hanging out with the animals, and the animals love him. I guess Cathy heard about it and—”

“Oh my God. Wildstone is worse than Mayberry when it comes to gossip.”

“What’s Mayberry?” Emma asked.

Alison shook her head. “Never mind. Please go on.”

“Okay, so Cathy heard about Dale and thought it’d be great for her mom too. She asked us if we minded.”

“Half of us mind. A lot.”

“Look, I’ll handle Phyllis,” Emma said. “All you’ve got to worry about is the business side of things. Oh and hey, how did it go with Ryan—who, by the way, looks at you like you’re lunch.”

Shit. She’d left him in the office. She pointed at Emma. “This isn’t over.”

“Never is.”

Shaking her head, Alison started to go back to Ryan, but stopped and turned back. “He looks at me like I’m lunch?”

“Yep. And dinner. And a midnight snack . . .”

Alison felt pleasure fill her, which she had to shake off because the office was empty. Ryan had left. Disappointment making her chest heavy, she walked to the front room and . . . found him talking with Cathy. It’d been like that when they’d dated too. Everywhere they went, he knew someone, and if he didn’t, he’d make a friend in two seconds. The man could chitchat with the devil himself. It’d driven her crazy, but watching him handle her “client” with an effortless ease did something deep inside her.

It warmed her. “Thanks,” she said to him meaningfully, putting her hand on his arm. His definitely solid arm. She ignored the inner quiver and smiled at Phyllis’s daughter. “We’ll see you after work.”

Cathy nearly sagged in relief. “Thank you.” She turned to Phyllis. “Mom? You behave, you hear me?”