Trenton Lewis sucked in a sharp breath as he gingerly removed the hot plate from the microwave.
One of the good things about making a pot roast on the weekends?
Leftovers for days.
One of the worst things about making a pot roast on the weekends?
Leftovers for days.
But pot roast was easy and filling, and… well, that was about it, really. It was efficient. It got the job done.
And it wasn’t like he had anyone else to cook for or to impress.
That was one of the perks of being a bachelor, right? Not needing to worry about what anyone else wanted to do?
Those were the things Trenton had always told himself, anyway. And for the most part, he was content with being single—or at least, that was also what he’d told himself.
Being content wasn’t the same as being happy, though.
He took his microwaved meal over to the dining room table and sat down, his mind wandering back to earlier in the day. It was hard to imagine finding the kind of happiness that Calvin Berry and Jack Roberts had. Even Scottie Chambers seemed happier than Trenton was, and he was single.
Then again, it was hard not to smile at that hyperactive puppy. In Trenton’s opinion, that dog was a perfect match for Scottie—high-strung, loud, and likely to get into trouble if left alone for too long.
Trenton poked at the roast on his plate with a fork and sighed. Maybe he should get a puppy, too. It might be nice to have a little noise, a little chaos in his too-big, too-empty, old Victorian house.
But no.
Puppies took time. And energy. And money.
Three things that Trenton seemed to be in short supply of these days.
If anyone had told him ten years ago that he’d be thirty-five and still single, still struggling to keep the doors open at Topped up, still hopelessly lost when it came to love and business, he would have never believed it. He would have probably even laughed at how ridiculous that sounded.
Here he was, though—a month past his thirty-fifth birthday, eating leftovers by himself on a Wednesday night.
He took a bite and chewed the meat that had gone a bit rubbery in the fridge over the past three days. It wasn’t that he had a bad life—not at all. Trenton knew he was fortunate to own a business and a home, even if both had been handed down to him by his parents. He might not have any real dating prospects, but he had some friends, and that was almost as good, right?
Sometimes it might even be better to have close friends rather than lovers. If he didn’t ever fall in love, he didn’t ever have to worry about falling out of love, either. He was his own man, with his own agenda, doing things his own way.
Nothing wrong with that.
Except, it didn’t feel like things were going very right for him, either.
As long as the city council got rid of that damned ordinance in three weeks’ time, Silver Lake could finally welcome some real businesses to town. And Trenton would be waiting with open arms, ready to sell his little coffee shop to the highest bidder.
It was in a great location, after all. He’d give someone a hell of a deal.
And maybe they’d have better luck with the place than he had. Maybe they would be able to take Scottie and his friends down a few notches.
Trenton could just cash a big, fat check and spend some time sipping margaritas on a beach somewhere.
Then, maybe he could find the time and the will to date, or to at least consider dating.
Right now, it felt like he was barely staying afloat. Sometimes it didn’t even feel like he was doing that.
He knew one thing for sure, though.
Something had to give. Something had to change.
Quickly.
“You see that dog that guy has across the street?” Clarence Finley called across the coffee shop to where Trenton was standing at the front window. “Over at that other place?”
Trenton grimaced. That other place. His regular customers knew not to even mention Steamin’ Beans by name. That guy and that other place were all Trenton needed to hear to know exactly who Clarence was talking about.
“I’ve seen it,” Trenton muttered, unsure whether Clarence had heard him. Not that it mattered. If Clarence had something more to say, he would say it regardless of whether anyone else was participating in the conversation. “What about it?”
“I just don’t see how it can be sanitary, that’s all.” Clarence paused a beat while Trenton turned and shot him a quizzical look. “You can’t have animals running around in there while you’re making food and drinks. It’s just not right.”
Trenton turned back to the window and squinted his eyes, trying to see inside Scottie’s shop from where he stood. If that dog really was running around loose in the coffee shop, that would be an issue.
An issue for the Health Department, most likely. While Trenton didn’t love the idea of getting the authorities involved, it could be a matter of public health.
Nobody was above the law, after all. Not even bright, cheerful Scottie with his cute little puppy.
The glare from the sun on the large windows was too bright, though. Trenton couldn’t see a damn thing. He’d have to rely on Clarence for the information he needed.
“You said the dog is running around where customers can see it?” Trenton asked, finally turning away from the window to fully face Clarence. “Just out in the open?”
“More than out in the open,” Clarence answered. “The dog came right up to me when I stopped in to get a scone—you know he really does have good scones over there—and damn near would have eaten out of my hand if I hadn’t stepped back.”
Trenton frowned. “And where was Scottie while all of this was going on? Was the dog completely unattended?”
“Oh, no,” Clarence shook his head. “He was there—had the dog on a leash, in fact. One of those long, stretchy leashes that is pretty much pointless—you know the kind I’m talking about?”
Trenton grunted something that would have to pass for an answer and waved a dismissive hand as he stalked back toward his office. He didn’t know or care about stretchy leashes. Clarence had given him all the information he needed to make a decision.
The dog wasn’t dangerous, of course. But it wasn’t appropriate to have a pet running around inside a coffee shop, either—no matter how cute and fluffy. Scottie should really know better, but it was just the sort of thing Trenton could see his rival dismissing as a silly, stuffy rule instead of the courteous, professional thing to do.
What if some of his patrons didn’t like dogs, and were too afraid to speak up? What if some of them were allergic?
Had Scottie even taken those people’s thoughts or medical conditions into consideration?
Trenton already knew the answers to those rhetorical questions. Still, was he really prepared to call the Health Department? Should he just call Scottie and raise his concerns that way, man to man?
Just the thought of trying to get Scottie to see reason made Trenton grimace.
If it was something else, some other concern, then maybe Trenton would be willing to discuss it with Scottie. But people were touchy about their pets, and Trenton couldn’t see how a conversation with Scottie about his new dog could possibly end well.
It would be better coming from someone with some actual authority, someone whose business it was to make those kinds of calls.
Someone at the Health Department.
His mind finally made up, Trenton reached for the phone on his desk and dialed the number.
It might not be the neighborly thing to do, but it was the right thing.
And at the end of the day, doing the right thing was what mattered most… right?