Angela Campbell - On the Scent - A laugh out loud pet detective rom com!

“Sure, but—” Beside him, E.J. tugged at the necktie Zach had insisted he wear and shuffled on his feet. “The lady specifically asked for you and said she’d take her business elsewhere if you weren’t available.”

Slamming the phone back in the cradle, Zach stepped into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face before hurrying to change into his respectable white button-down shirt and black slacks. “Did she say why she wanted to see me?”

The young man scrunched his face. “Nah, man. Just said it was important.”

I’m-here-to-serve-you-papers important? He hoped not.

“Is she alone?” He ran a hand through his thick hair. Not too damp.

“There ain’t nobody with her, but—”

“Send her in.”

Deodorant. Where the hell was his deodorant? He splashed on a dash of cologne instead and hurried to his desk.

Zach’s name might headline the private security agency—hell, his name was the agency—but he took a hands-off approach to handling cases these days. He liked the easy ones. Ones that could be done behind a computer or with a phone call here and there. He’d lost his desire for adrenaline rushes six months ago, right after—

No. Don’t even think about it.

He had no need for that shit anymore. He was strictly in business management now. Safe and easy. That was his new work mantra.

Unfortunately, this woman was not going to be safe and easy for him, and he didn’t have to be psychic to know that.

Reaching for the bottle of antacids in his drawer, he popped one in his mouth. He kept them there for when the bill collectors came snooping around. Or fans, who hadn’t forgotten him yet.

His door opened, and Zach blinked in surprise when a short, stubby-legged, long-snouted golden retriever with beady eyes came trotting into his office. Some kind of mixed breed, or maybe a genetic experiment.

A smile got the better of him. Now that was a cute mutt.

The dog slowly maneuvered its chunky body over to where Zach was standing, wrapped its front paws around Zach’s leg and started humping.

“Hey!” Zach tried to jostle him off, but the little guy was stronger than he looked.

“Oh, geez, I’m so sorry.” The woman appeared in the doorway, her green gaze wide. She clapped her hands and yelled, “Costello! Down, boy. Down!”

The dog immediately obeyed.

“I’m so sorry. He got away from me.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. She grabbed the leash the dog had been trailing behind him. When she straightened, she held out her other hand. “My name is Hannah Dawson. Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time, Mr. Collins.”

His vision blurred as his heart thumped a wild beat against his chest.

Just. Stay. Calm.

It took all of Zach’s training not to react as he accepted her handshake. His body jerked in surprise when a furry white and black head popped out of the bag beneath the woman’s arm. The cat let loose a loud yowling meow and took a swipe at his hand.

What the—?

Hannah wrenched back. “Oh, no I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s got into them.”

Uh…

“Abbott, behave.” She zipped the top of the pink mesh bag, leaving a pair of yellow eyes peering at him from behind a see-through front. A growling sound came from the carrier when the woman sat it on the ground.

This was weird, and for Zach, that was saying a lot. In his five years of running Collins Security Firm, he’d never felt so caught off-guard by a situation.

“Miss Dawson?”

She looked at him and nodded.

“Perhaps we could reschedule this for another time when you can leave your—” Zach squinted down at the dog, who was panting happily with its tongue hanging out of its mouth “—pets at home?”

And he could arrange for Brian to meet with her instead. Sweat gathered at the back of his neck. He didn’t need this. Not now. Not her .

“Oh, but I can’t. I can’t go anywhere without them. I can’t even go to the bathroom on my own anymore.” She threw up her hands and looked like she was near tears. “That’s why I need your help. That’s why I’m here.”

She had no idea who he was.

Every muscle in Zach’s body relaxed at that realization. Even so, he skimmed her profile to reassure himself she wasn’t playing him for a fool. Not much had changed. She was in her early thirties, but she looked younger. Long, straight black hair, average height but slim. Well-dressed.

Why the hell was she here if she didn’t know who he was?

She lifted her pretty face, and the vulnerability he saw in her glistening green eyes had him second-guessing his decision to send her away. This woman wasn’t vindictive or crazy. She was desperate.

He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Sinking into the chair across from his desk, Hannah buried her face in her hands and groaned. She spread her fingers and looked at him. “I seem like a freak, don’t I?” Glancing around his office, she lowered her hand and began petting the dog. “I’m not crazy. I’m just…stressed.”

Nodding, he sank into his cushy office chair. “Before you get too far, I should warn you that our prices aren’t cheap. I offer a free consultation on referral, but—”

“I can pay for the consultation,” she interjected. “And I can afford your services.” She glanced down at the dog. “Actually, they can afford your services. They’re the ones who will be hiring you.”

Another one he hadn’t heard before.

Before he could speak, she snatched the newspaper lying on his desk, turned to a page close to the front and pressed it down in front of him. She tapped the top headline.

Secret heiress leaves $10 million to her cat, dog.

“That’s Abbott, the cat, and Costello is the dog.” She gestured to each animal as she said their names. A picture of the dog and cat posing with an elderly woman accompanied the article. “And if you’d like to take a few minutes to read this, I don’t mind waiting.”

Zach picked up the newspaper and focused on the article, trying to keep his expression rigid, give nothing away. Not easy, since most of the information he read surprised the hell out of him. The elderly heiress had kept her fortune a secret, leaving a trust fund in her animals’ names. A nurse who’d cared for Ellie Parham in her final years had been tasked with minding the ridiculously rich cat and dog.

He guessed the reason Hannah Dawson was here was because she’d become a target for every wacko and get-rich schemer in the region. Her coming to their agency today seemed like an awfully big coincidence, though. How much did she know? What had the old woman told her?

“If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Dawson, why did you choose our firm?” He watched her expression for a nonverbal giveaway.

“I recognized your name. From your TV show,” she clarified, although it wasn’t necessary.

A surprising demographic of people watched reality television—especially the true crime channel that had aired The Psychic Detective until its cancellation six years ago. That this woman had seen his show both surprised and pissed him off. He didn’t like to be reminded of his past.

Shit.

Ten million dollars. Left to a cat and dog. How could he not want a slice of that? There was a past due notice for the office’s lease sitting on his desk right now that could be taken care of by the end of the week with profit from a client like Hannah. He could stop losing sleep for worry of not making payroll.

His mama’s voice whispered through his mind in a childhood memory from Sunday school. Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap, Zachary .

If Hannah Dawson figured out the connection between them, she might pull her business, maybe file a lawsuit against him, expose the psychic detective for the sham he’d been. That was a headache he didn’t need. The smart thing would be to refer her to another agency and cut ties now.