Free Dates And Other Nuts by Lori Copeland Page A

dogs, Temple,” he emphasized, more vehemently than before. “Big and amorously aggressive. That damn chow tried to mark me!”
    â€œDid what?” she said, laughing.
    â€œMarked me.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I had no idea. Gabby’s so relaxed—”
    â€œIf she were any more relaxed she’d be dead. The dogs would bury her! Nothing gets to her. Cats and dogs all over the place. They eat off her plate, Temple. Her apartment looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in a month. Every electrical outlet in the place is overloaded. Her curling iron was burning a hole in the bathroom counter—the woman doesn’t own a microwave. She put the ribs, box and all, into the oven to reheat, and set it on fire. This is a woman who’s in charge of getting passengers out of a burning plane...?”
    â€œGabrielle’s wonderful at her job,” she insisted. “She’s virtually unshakable.”
    He sneezed.
    â€œAre you catching a cold?”
    â€œNo, I’m not catching a cold!” He sat up to snag a tissue from a box on the desk. “I’m trying to hack up a fur ball.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said, laughing again. “Next time—”
    â€œSay good night, Temple.”
    â€œUh, good night.”
    Hanging up, he sneezed again. Next time?
    In her dreams.

6
    T WO FLIGHTS were running late Monday morning and the terminal was crowded with early-morning commuters and vacationers. The business travelers, still trying to wake up, buried their heads in newspapers. The vacationers, animated by the prospect of their trip, chattered among themselves excitedly.
    A sudden hush fell over the two groups and Temple turned to see what was the cause. A man in a pilot’s uniform, wearing sunglasses, strolled down the concourse holding onto the harness of a Seeing Eye dog.
    â€œComing through, coming through.”
    Temple froze, staring. “Scotty!”
    Pushing the sunglasses up on top of his head, Scotty grinned. “Just kidding, folks,” he said, sweeping Temple into an impromptu dance step as they continued down the concourse.
    â€œHe really is kidding,” Temple called back to the stunned crowd.
    â€œWhose dog?”
    â€œA passenger’s. Told him I’d take Wolf for a walk.”
    Craig approached, and the high jinks ceased. Handing the dog over to Pat at the gate, Scotty fell into step with Temple. The three walked toward the turboprop awaiting them.
    â€œAre you trying for the unemployment line?” Craig asked and Scotty chuckled.
    â€œAw, fliers need a good laugh now and then,” Scotty said.
    â€œA blind pilot? When passengers are boarding a plane?”
    â€œManagement says to keep ’em laughing.”
    Temple glanced over her shoulder. “I wonder how many cancellations Ali is fending off right now?” she said, looking in the direction of the ticket counter.
    Ascending the steps to the plane, Temple disappeared into the galley, Craig and Scotty into the cockpit. By the time she’d finished double-checking cups, sugar, creamers, and juice, the coffee was ready.
    Balancing a tray with two cups, Temple delivered the refreshments to Scotty and Craig who were in the middle of the usual preflight check.
    â€œCoffee?”
    â€œMmm,” Scotty said, a pencil in his mouth, taking his cup.
    â€œThanks.” Craig accepted the cup Temple handed him. “By the way,” he said, “here’s your checkbook. I finally found that $57.98. Dry cleaning, hair salon and Girl Scout cookies.”
    Temple winced. “I forgot the cookies!”
    â€œMath never was your strong suit.”
    He seemed to have gotten over the Gabrielle incident, or at least he wasn’t going to mention it.
    â€œThe usual payment?” she asked.
    â€œDouble chocolate chips this time.”
    â€œYou’ll have them tomorrow morning.”
    Craig stowed his clipboard, and sat back. “How’s