Brittany did exactly that.
Ugh. How could one dog be so adorable?
A kind-looking fifty-something man, his face pink from exertion, was beaming at them. He looked like a milkman from a wholesome fifties sitcom who’d unironically say things like “shucks.”
“Dr. Cooper, I just saw you pull in and thought I’d say hello to your guest.” He waved at Felicity, an idiotic grin plastered to his face. “Come on upstairs and we’ll properly chat. I’m Harvey Clifford, director of Living Ruff New York.” He turned his attention back to Cooper. “And as for you”—he frowned—“I’ve seen your time sheet. Go home. Now.”
“I was going to have a nap and get back to it after that.”
“No. Absolutely not. You’re of no use to anyone if you keel over. What is this? Your seventeenth hour?” He shook his head. “Go home, Dr. Cooper. I’ve already called in Dr. Mendoza to replace you for the rest of today.”
“I—”
“No. No arguing. My concern is for the welfare of my team before anything else. Home.”
Cooper sighed. “Fine. Let me just get my things from upstairs and give Brittany back to Mrs. B.”
“Of course.” He smiled again, then his gaze took in Felicity. “All right, then. Ms. Simmons, wasn’t it? Mrs. Brooks says you’re very excited to go through our books. So let’s make that happen. Come on up.” He turned and headed toward the building.
Felicity eyed him in surprise. That was entirely too welcoming.
“Guess I’m off the clock,” Cooper said. “Hey, maybe you’ll get to ride with Dr. Mendoza later. That’ll be hell for you. The man has a chinchilla as a riding companion.”
Felicity swallowed. “I think not.” Her limit for cute animals had been exceeded for the day. She’d probably wind up snuggling the damned thing within two minutes. “Absolutely not,” she said more sharply.
“Well, suit yourself.” Cooper climbed out of the vehicle, and Brittany bounded out beside her. “Hey, Mitch?” she called to a man lurking in the shadows of the building.
He pulled his hoodie off his head, revealing dark brown skin, unwashed hair, and a full beard. His clothing was as filthy as his smile was wide.
“Watch the van for us for an hour? Gabe’ll be here soon to take over rounds.”
Mitch widened his lazy grin. “Sure, Coop.”
Cooper thanked him and headed toward the office, Felicity trailing behind as Brittany scooted up ahead of them.
“Mitch is great,” Cooper said conversationally. “He’s the reason we have a van still standing each morning, not a shell without tires on four stacks of bricks.”
“Oh.” Felicity hadn’t thought of that. “Well…good deal for you, I guess.”
“Good deal for him, too. He can sleep in it on the nights he’s watching it, if he wants, and we pay him security guard rates to boot.”
Well, didn’t that just explain the weird smell in the back. Felicity wrinkled her nose.
“You’re doing it again,” Cooper said. “Making a face. Which I assume is accompanied by that snooty brain of yours judging people.”
Snooty! “Excuse me, it’s a little hard not to judge. You let your expensive work vehicle be used as a flophouse for some random homeless man!”
“Who says he’s random? Mitch is one of Mrs. B’s boys. Hardly a stranger to us.”
“He’s Mrs. Brooks’s son?” Felicity asked in surprise.
“She fosters kids. Mitch was one of hers a few years back, and he aged out of the system. He got hooked on some stuff and wound up on the street. But he still loves his former foster mom, so he’s never too far away. Likes to keep an eye out for her, make sure she’s okay. He’s really loyal. And it’s mutual. Mrs. B loves knowing he’s around. She’s always trying to get him into jobs and re-engaged in life. It’s a sweet thing, actually.”
Oh. Well, whatever worked.
When she reached the top step, Cooper turned back.
“All right, I’ll leave you to my boss’s charms. He’s really enthusiastic about Living Ruff”—Cooper grinned—“so strap yourself in and prepare to have your ear talked off.”
“Good to know. Thanks, by the way. For taking me on your rounds.”
“I’d say any time, but I suspect you wouldn’t think that’s a good thing.”
“No.” Felicity shuddered. “I’d say better you than me.” She glanced down to find Brittany’s butt parked at her ankles. Her fingers twitched to just lean down and… “Perhaps you should call off your menacing dog, too.” She gave the faintest uptick of a smile.
Cooper chuckled. “You really are something else.”
And for once that didn’t sound exactly like a bad thing.
CHAPTER 4
A Prod and a Poke
Harvey Clifford’s office was a little chaotic with stacks of folders everywhere, including on top of a filing cabinet, proving he didn’t know or care about its function. Framed photos of him beaming next to a regal, beautiful woman and a child hung along the wall. Not just a couple of photos, either. Felicity stopped counting at ten. Proud family man, then?
On his desk sat a small, colorful crocheted dog with Living Ruff NY embroidered on its chest. It was the ugliest thing Felicity had seen in some time—and she’d seen all of Maddie Grey’s garage band T-shirts.
“That’s our mascot.” Harvey smiled at her from behind his desk as he caught her gaze. “You like him?”
