Feels like Trouble (Lake Fisher 4)

His wife bustles into the room behind him, wiping her hands on an apron as she comes around the corner. She brushes her hair back from her face and smiles. “Oh, we have company!” She looks so pleased that I smile too. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

I’ve never been inside Pete and Molly’s house before, but it’s neat and tidy and there’s a smell of fresh cut flowers in the air.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Molly asks.

Evie shakes her head as I say, “That’d be great.” Evie pinches my side and I grab her hand to keep her from abusing me, holding it tightly in mine.

“That would be wonderful,” Evie adds quietly.

Molly rushes into the kitchen and I hear the clink of ice hitting glasses.

“How’s that wood chipper working out for you, Pete?” I ask. I had an old one that I needed to get rid of since I upgraded to a newer unit, and Pete had responded to my advertisement in the local want ads. And he’d made me an offer for a trade that I couldn’t refuse.

“Mighty fine,” he says. “Worth the trade, so far.”

“Good. I’m glad you like it.” I rub my hands together. “Can I see them?” I look around, but I don’t see any evidence of what I traded for.

Pete chuckles, just as Molly comes back with a tray of drinks. I’d bet it’s sweet tea. “Sit, sit, sit,” she says as she sets the tray on the coffee table. She hands around the drinks. “Drink up.” She brushes her bangs back from her face again, clearly elated at having company. “We don’t get many visitors,” she says humbly.

“That’s probably because of all the warning signs,” Evie says, and then blushes.

Pete chuckles loudly. “Probably. We used to have a problem with kids vandalizing stuff. We don’t have that problem so much anymore.”

“I bet not,” Evie says, the color receding from her cheeks a bit as she realized she didn’t offend them after all. She takes a sip of her tea. “Oh, that’s good,” she says, staring into the glass.

“Mint and lemon,” Molly says with a smile, clearly happy that Evie is enjoying the tea. “Simple, really.”

Pete gets up and walks down the hallway. “Here they come,” he calls as he opens the door.

I hear the click of their tiny little nails before I see them, and then eight little fur balls come running around the corner. They crowd around our ankles, yipping at one another as they make high-pitched growling noises.

“Oh!” Evie cries, and she reaches down and scoops one up. “Can I hold it?” she finally remembers to ask. Another one paws at her legs, and she grins.

“I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice,” Molly says with a laugh. “They love to be held.”

Evie puts one in her lap as she holds another one in front of her face. “What are they?” she asks.

I bump her shoulder. “They’re puppies, dummy.”

She glares at me, but there’s no malice in her gaze. “I know that, you knucklehead. What kind of puppies?”

Pete puffs out his chest a little. “They’re standard poodles.”

Evie’s eyebrows shoot up. “The big poodles?”

“Mom and Dad are around about sixty and seventy pounds.” Pete looks proud as a peacock.

Evie looks at me. “You traded a wood chipper for a poodle?”

Another one is scratching at her leg, begging to be held too. She gives up and lowers herself to the floor, and I watch her laugh as puppies climb all over her. “I did.” Evie giggles as a poodle puppy climbs inside the hoodie with her and starts to wiggle around.

“And you wanted a poodle? Seriously? I would have thought you’d want a Labrador or something.”

I shake my head. “One of my hunting buddies has a standard poodle he uses when he’s deer hunting. It’s a good dog.” I shrug. “So I thought, why not.”

Evie giggles as she lies down on the floor and lets the puppies climb all over her. “How old are they?”

“Six weeks,” Molly says. “So they can’t go home with you just yet. About another three weeks and they’ll be ready. But you can pick the one you want, and we can put a little tag on him so we can save him.”