Perfect Pairing by Rachel Spangler Page A

me more time on the grill. He gets to meet girls and gets practice talking to them, we get to cook more, everyone’s happy.” Sully pled her case, then for emotional appeal added, “Plus he’s kind of cute and sweet, like a puppy. Please, can we keep him?”
    Sully had been begging her for a puppy for a long time, but dogs were a big time investment, and health inspectors rarely appreciated animals in confined spaces with food. Maybe if she let her take on Ian as some sort of protégé or summer project, she’d shut up about the dog. Besides, summer in Buffalo lasted only a few months, and they did need the help. “Call and tell him to meet us at Larkin Square on Tuesday.”
    â€œAwesome. I don’t think you’ll regret this. He’s a good kid. Just one other thing though.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œHe doesn’t drive,” Sully said. “I told him we could pick him up.”
    â€œSure, where does he live?”
    Sully grinned like she was nervous, or had gas.
    â€œWhere does he live?” she asked again. “It better not be like out by UB north campus or something.”
    â€œNope, he’s staying in Allentown for the summer . . . with his sister.”
    â€œOf course he is.”
    Why couldn’t anything ever be easy?

Chapter Three
    Quinn pushed through the door of Domski’s bar. It was only a little brighter inside than it had been in the parking lot. At least out there she’d had the outer reaches of runway lights. The inside featured dark wall sconces along the perimeter and low track lighting over the bar. A few patrons dotted the landscape, mostly clustered within view of the small rabbit-eared TV broadcasting a Yankees game. They all wore Bills T-shirts, union caps, or jeans flecked with paint and mud as marks of their belonging to the bar’s blue-collar base. Her gray slacks and teal blouse once again marked her as an outsider, but she’d be damned if she’d change. She knew her people even if they weren’t always able to recognize her.
    At least the usual clients were accustomed to her presence. If they wondered what brought her here, they didn’t let it show as she moved to her usual spot in the back corner. Dropping her leather briefcase on the table, she settled into a dark green booth bench. Her pant leg stuck to a cracked patch of faux leather upholstery, and she shook her head, unsurprised that the material was already coming apart. She’d told Dom to go for the nicer finishes, but did he listen to her? Of course not.
    She smiled faintly as she opened her laptop and listened to the lumbering, uneven steps of her host as he approached her table.
    â€œThe usual?” Dom Piotroski asked.
    â€œYes, please. And you could turn the lights up, too,” she said without looking up.
    â€œYes to the first, no to the second.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œSame reason as always, Quinn. If I turned up the lights, everyone could see how dirty the place is.”
    â€œYou could clean a little bit.”
    â€œThe dirt is part of the charm.”
    â€œFine then, how about some extra chips?”
    â€œThat I can do.” He clomped away down the wide aisle, back to the bar, but when he returned with a gin and tonic and a basket of kettle chips, he pulled up a chair and parked himself at the end of the booth. “How’s business?”
    â€œI think I’m supposed to ask you that.”
    â€œIt’s not my fault you’re bad at your job.”
    She finally leveled her best icy stare at him, but he only smiled. God, how did he manage to be so damned good-natured all the time? Most people would’ve given the guy a free pass to be bitter. If losing his right leg in an IED attack wasn’t enough, he’d lost his father, Dom the second, to lung cancer six months later, and then damned near lost his business, not that most people would consider folding on a dive bar in