my property.”
I didn’t know where this man was raised that he thought he could put his hands on me and get away with it, but Thor was raised by Cinnamon, who never let anyone get away with anything. Least of all, men who didn’t know better than to insult, assault or just plain piss off a woman.
The Great Dane lunged forward and clamped a jaw on the insurance agent’s ham hock of a wrist, forcing him to release me.
Fiona, normally a champ under pressure, froze in shock.
Not a drop of blood was spilled, but Smalls screamed like a girl in a schoolyard. I wanted to bite him myself.
Thor jumped up and planted his paws on either side of the wall, pinning the insurance agent there. The dog towered a good two feet over him and let out a warning that came close to the sound a black bear makes when it's territory is threatened.
Frankly, had we not been inside the walls of my family’s B&B, I might have let Thor enjoy this little moment. But responsibility took precedence and I said firmly, “Thor, release!”
He hesitated, so I tapped him by the collar, telling him I meant business. Thor jumped down, the force of which sent Smalls on a short tumble over the carpeted stairs. He stopped rolling when he met the first landing.
It all happened in slow motion, but the reality of it hit me like a tidal wave. My dog just wrapped his teeth around the insurance agent handling Cinnamon’s claim. That couldn’t be good.
“Fiona, take Thor down the back stairway,” I said.
I skidded down to Mr. Smalls who was curled up like a ball of yarn.
“Are you okay? Mr. Smalls, are you hurt?”
“Leave me alone,” he said and batted me away with his right arm. Unfortunately, I was crouched on my heels at the time, which is a very unbalanced position to put yourself in on a flight of stairs. I tumbled back, too, and smacked the railing.
Smalls stood up. He was a little wobbly and his suit coat was torn, but other than that he seemed fine.
“Mr. Smalls, I am so sorry,” I said. I got up and took a step.
He blocked me with his hand. “Stay away.”
“Please, let me help you. We’ll mend that suit coat.”
“Help me? Are you crazy?”
Why did people keep asking me that?
“Look, this is a huge misunderstanding. I did not take your bag.”
I didn’t. Really.
Smalls tried to get up. He winced. “I’m pressing charges. You and that dog assaulted me!”
“That’s absurd. It was an accident. Besides, you put your hands on me first.”
Geez, now I was the one who sounded like a little girl in a schoolyard. But he really shouldn’t have done that.
Smalls ignored me and pulled out a cell phone.
“Hello, police?”
Terrific.
CHAPTER 7
The last time I was in a holding cell I was visiting Birdie. She got arrested for doing a Lady Godiva impersonation down the middle of Main Street during the 4th of July parade.
Even that day was better than this one.
“Gus!” I called.
Gus moseyed around the corner, drinking a Yoo-hoo.
“Hey, Stacy, what did ya need?”
A clean record? A normal family? An ass doughnut?
“Where is Leo? You said he’d be here by now.”
“He was on his way but he got called out to the Shelby farm because someone smeared Nair on all their goats. Poor things are freezing their walnuts off.”
Geez, where did I live?
Thor trotted to Gus and accepted a pat on the head through the iron. I got up and stepped over to the gate.
“Gus, can you please let him out? I think he might have to go.”
“Sorry, no can do. He’s a prisoner for the time being.”
“That’s ridiculous. He did nothing wrong. He was looking out for me, that’s all.”
“Take it up with the judge.” Gus grinned and slurped his drink. My idiot limit had reached maximum capacity so I stuck an arm through the bars, grabbed him by the belt, found his tighty-whiteys and said, “Let. Him. Out.” Someone was getting a wedgie today, so help me.
Gus was taken off guard and spit his chocolate drink all over