“Brought a turkey sandwich. Chips.” EW shuffled his feet awkwardly on the yellowed linoleum. “Door was open.”
“Good. I’m starving.” Cole cleared his throat. “These papers are nice, but...” He shook his head.
EW didn’t answer, just held out a plastic bag with sandwiches wrapped in napkins. “One paper? You givin’ up after one paper?”
Cole shoved half a sandwich in his mouth. Snapping in anger or whining after all EW’s help would never do. “Nope.” He grabbed the Holly Heights newspaper and flipped to the two-page classified spread. “Used car. House for rent.” He shoved the other half of the sandwich in his mouth. Talking and chewing would have gotten him a smack on the hand if his Mimi were still here.
In the last column, he found it. A job listing for an assistant manager at an animal shelter. “Paws for Love.” He glanced over at EW. “Know anything about it?”
EW wadded his empty napkin. “Down the road a piece, maybe two miles. Pet project for the new millionaires.”
Cole waited for EW to either acknowledge his pun or explain the “millionaires” comment.
EW stretched lazily and shuffled through the papers to slide one out. On the front page, a full-color photo showing four beautiful women grinning with absolute joy caught Cole’s eye. A surge of jealous bitterness shot through him, turning the sandwich into a hard lump in his stomach. “Local lottery winners Rebecca Lincoln, Stephanie Yates and Jen Neil celebrate the open house at Paws for Love.” As he read the headline, Cole had a vague memory of them at Holly Heights High School, but they were a year or two ahead of him and they’d moved in different crowds. “And Sarah Hillman. Looks like some things don’t change. Hillmans are still running this town.”
He scanned the story about the shelter’s reopening with new funding provided by the foundation set up by Rebecca, Jen and Stephanie. Sarah Hillman was listed as the organization’s director and the day-to-day manager. That would be a problem. He expected a Hillman would set low priority to hiring people like him.
“Two miles...” He pointed toward Holly Heights.
EW shook his head and pointed the opposite direction. “Down the highway.”
Cole tapped a finger nervously on the coffee table. He could walk two miles easy. It was only part-time, but it was a place to start and he had the skills listed. Flexibility. Experience working with animals. He could lift fifty pounds no problem.
“Good character.” That might be the sticking point. Not that he didn’t have it, but that he had no way to prove it.
“Take the truck.” EW stretched in the seat. “Go in the morning. Won’t know until you try.”
“You’ll have to come with me. Can’t drive. No license.” Maybe if he had a personal witness, they would listen.
“Might be better to take your chances without me.” EW raised an eyebrow, and Cole understood exactly what he meant. Mimi had bragged on EW’s skills with motors. The rest of Holly Heights viewed EW as the town drunk.
But Cole would enjoy having a partner, a little bit of backup, someone who believed when he wasn’t so sure himself.
Relying too much on what other people thought was how he’d gotten mixed up with the gang that convinced him taking what he needed was the only answer. Not anymore. Going alone was the only way to stay out of trouble.
“I’ll walk it. I can do it.” The distance was nothing. Convincing Sarah Hillman to give him a shot would be the challenge. Finding a job was the key to everything. If he spent too much time sitting around this trailer with nothing to do but list his mistakes and fight the temptation to drown his problems, he’d be back inside Travis before the year was out. He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, but this felt right. All he had to do was seize his chance.
CHAPTER TWO
REBECCA LINCOLN PUT the car in Park and checked the clock on her car radio. “Fifteen minutes early, right on time.” The only other cars in the parking lot belonged to Sarah and Shelly, Sarah’s right hand and the most important volunteer at the shelter. They’d both been at Paws for Love since sunrise, no doubt.
As she reached over to grab the floral tote she used to organize all the paperwork for the shelter, Rebecca hit the buttons to lower the windows a crack. Otherwise, the Texas sun would turn her car into an oven. She loved ovens but had no desire to sit in one on the drive home.
Whistling might be over-the-top, but it was a beautiful morning. On sunny Saturdays like this one, the bedraggled flower beds and dusty gravel lot in front of the building seemed twice as sad, but Sarah was slowly and surely changing every piece of Paws for Love for the better. With enough time, she’d hire someone to replace the peeling paint and plant bright flowers, and the outside of the building would reflect all the joyful work done at the shelter.
Time. That was all this place needed now. Smug certainty and a touch of pride at what her money had accomplished added up to a song in her heart. If Jen was there, Rebecca might hum a happy tune, to annoy her.
Before she could open the car door, Sarah stepped out of the building. “Good. You’re here early. Can you cover the phone and desk for me? I need to call Will before Jen gets here.”
“Sure. I’ve got the desk. This time next week, we’ll have some real help for you.” Rebecca was perfectly happy to spend some time behind the counter at the shelter. Sarah was ruthlessly organized, so it was easy to find the log of volunteers. Rebecca ran a finger down the list of names and hours. The kids she’d sent over from the high school where she worked as a guidance counselor had plugged right in. The satisfaction of correctly identifying and connecting kids with opportunities was nice. Every single one of them would have great extracurriculars for college applications.
That job satisfaction made it impossible to consider quitting her job, even after hitting the lottery.
Her phone chirped to notify her that a text had come in. Every time she heard it, she pictured a bluebird of happiness.
Booked the flight into Austin. It’ll be good to see my kids in person. Her mother had taken to texting instead of calling, probably because she was too busy for long conversations. After a lifetime of charity work in Holly Heights, Rebecca’s parents had moved to Florida, where they played golf. Lots and lots of golf.
Already planning the menu. Rack of lamb. I’ve always wanted to try it. Can’t wait to see you. The farewell dinner for Daniel and Stephanie was going to be her inaugural dinner party with the new kitchen. Saying goodbye to her brother and her friend would hurt, but she was anxious to demonstrate what a smart investment the large check she’d write to the contractor would be.
Starving children, Rebecca Lincoln. Refugees. Go for chicken, something reasonable. We aren’t fancy, you know that.
Her mother’s reply shouldn’t have surprised her, because she’d heard similar responses her whole life. But it did shave off a sliver of the good mood she’d begun the day with. Trying something new would have been fun.
While she waited for one of the shelter’s volunteers to come up to the desk, Rebecca wandered over to the bulletin board to check out the photos Sarah had posted of all the dogs up for adoption. She bent to study the details for the cutest beagle on the board when the door opened.
“Welcome to Paws for Love.” The last part of her greeting was strangled as a man stepped inside. His size, the ferocious frown wrinkling his brow, sweat shining on his face, everything about him shouted that he was out of place.
The loud bang of the door as he closed it behind him shook her.
And she was cornered. The sensation of being helplessly cut off flashed through her mind, a reaction from the first and last time she’d tried to stop a fight at the high school. Confident of her authority as an adult and school counselor, she’d stepped between two boys roughly her size and found herself pinned against a wall of lockers, one hard hand on her throat. In the seconds it took
Eric Jordan to come to his senses, she’d frantically clawed at that arm and wondered if anyone would save her.
This guy, he was twice the size of Eric Jordan. His shoulders strained against the ironed cotton button-down that had to be at least ten years old. His khakis fit better, but had the same crisp crease that showed careful attention. His white sneakers shuffled as he stopped in the center of the tiny lobby.
She’d been able to look over Eric’s shoulder to see the watching crowd. This guy would block out the sun.
Rebecca put one hand over her racing heart and managed to say, “Can I help you?”
He fidgeted nervously for a second, shifting back and forth between the door and the shelter’s ancient cash register. The too-tight sleeves of his shirt strained over hard muscles as he clenched a folded newspaper. “I’m here about the job.” He wiped one large hand over his forehead.
As Bub, Sarah’s goofy brown dog, came ambling down the hallway, Rebecca held out a hand to try to stop him. Bub had no guard dog setting; he was strictly a social ambassador, a lover, not a fighter.
“Hey, pup,” the big man said, and bent down on one knee. The ominous sound of a seam stretching beyond its limits whispered through the lobby. Bub, sensing another admirer, tipped his chin up for a scratch.
Man and dog communicated silently long enough for Rebecca to get her brain in gear.
“The deadline was Friday. We aren’t accepting applications any longer.” Her voice was the cold, we-have-rules-for-a-reason tone all educators learned early on. People who wouldn’t follow directions were a pet peeve.
“I understand, but I’m asking for a favor, some leeway.” He braced one hand on the counter beside the computer, and the whole base tilted. He scrambled to right it, but everything on top crashed to the floor. The clatter kicked up her heart rate again. Rebecca held out a hand to keep him from crossing behind the counter to clean up his mess.
“We set the deadline for a reason,” she said, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Everyone wants leeway. Why should we give it to you?”
“Are you the manager?” The guy wasn’t going to take the first no. He didn’t have to. She would have to stand there until he decided to go.
“I’m not, but she’s very busy. We had quite a few qualified candidates, so there’s no real reason to ignore the deadline stated in the ad.” Rebecca spoke slowly, determined to hold her ground. It was the fair thing to do.
“Please. I’ll beg. Is that what you need, Your Highness?” The man squeezed the wrinkled newspaper so tightly it squeaked. “The heat. It makes me short-tempered.”
Before Rebecca could figure out how to answer him, laughter eked around the closed office door.
He turned his head and considered the door. “If you’re not the manager...” Rebecca darted around the counter to stand in front of the door. They couldn’t hire him. He needed to leave.
When he moved closer, she regretted the decision. At this distance, the lines on his face were clearer. The fatigue and desperation in his eyes were impossible to miss. It was tempting to give in.
Very slowly, he put his hands on her tense arms and shifted her out of the way before he reached around her to the doorknob and gave it a twist.
Rebecca fell back a few steps to get some breathing room.
And the giggles slowly died out as Sarah regarded her and the intruder. “Gotta go. Call you later,” she said as she hung up the phone.
Before Sarah could ask or Rebecca could explain, the man said, “Cole Ferguson. I’m here about the job.” He slid the crumpled newspaper on top of the stack of applications and stepped away quickly. One hand ran absentmindedly over his closely cropped hair and he glanced down at Bub. The dog rested against his leg and yawned.
Everyone but Cole Ferguson relaxed a fraction. Rebecca met Sarah’s stare over the desk as Sarah mouthed, “Good people.”
Anxious to get this guy back to wherever he came from so that she could regain her composure, Rebecca said, “I’ve explained the situation. Mr. Ferguson was just leaving.” She raised her eyebrows at him and held a hand out toward the door in case he needed a prompt. He wasn’t listening this time, either.
Cole Ferguson hadn’t moved a centimeter when Jen Neil burst into the tiny office. “I’m telling you, she’s got a business degree and experience with fund-raising. Why would we look for anyone else?” When she realized she was interrupting a conversation already in progress, Jen frowned. “Who’s he?”
“He’s interested in the job,” Rebecca said, “but he’s just leaving.” The way his feet were planted made it clear he wasn’t budging.
Sarah waved a hand. “We’ve got the time. Tell us about your experience. It’s obvious the physical part of the work will be no challenge.” She coughed and then smiled brightly. “And I don’t think we have the right candidate in this stack. No pets, Jen. Your sure bet has no pets, not one to tell me about.” Sarah tapped the last question on the application. “How long is she going to be happy around here? The suit she was wearing when she brought in her application? Had to cost at least eight hundred dollars. Believe me, I know. If it were older, it could be my old suit snagged from the consignment shop. But this place is dog hair and cat scratches and wash-and-wear wardrobe. I need someone who can do more than make phone calls and look pretty.”
“I guess you think you’ve got that covered.” Jen raised an eyebrow.
Sarah stuck her tongue out and they both smiled. Rebecca wasn’t sure whether Jen and Sarah were going to murder each other or run off to lunch together most days. After a rocky past, the two of them were tied together by two great loves: Will Barnes—Jen’s stepbrother, Sarah’s boyfriend and the man charged with matching their lottery winnings with worthy causes—and the need to rescue every stray in the Holly Heights vicinity.
Cole folded both hands in front of him and assumed an impressive, perfectly rigid posture. Did he have military experience?
“I worked with a program for three years. It’s called Prison Partners. We trained rescue dogs from local shelters in basic obedience so that they could be adopted.” He cleared his throat.
Prison? Rebecca did her best not to gasp and point, but her instincts had been right. There was no way they could hire a criminal.
He glanced around the room and rolled his shoulders.
“So that means you were in prison?” Jen asked, her eyebrows set in a firm, disapproving line.
Jen was the one who was convinced Rebecca would lose her millions to the first grifter who came along. Even if Sarah wanted to give the guy a chance, Rebecca and Jen could send him on his way.
Being aligned with cynical Jen was a new, unsettling experience.
“Yes. Just got out,” Cole said in a rough voice. “Aggravated assault. Tried to rob a gas station.” Whatever else he intended to say was swallowed as he clenched his teeth and returned to painfully correct posture.
Sarah tilted her head to the side. “Yeah, it’s coming back to me now. I vaguely remember my father telling me all about it. Your grandmother cleaned our house for a while.”
Awkward silence filled the room until Bub heaved a disgusted sigh.
Everyone took a breath.
“Yeah. I imagine a lot of people in Holly Heights could say that.” Cole tipped his chin up.
“Good character. That was one of the qualifications,” Rebecca said, and pointed at the crumpled newspaper. “Remember? Trustworthy, honest.” Not that there was any way to tell the character of any of the other applicants, but at least they didn’t have prison experience.
“Yeah, well...seems you’re the second criminal I’ve met,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Big Bobby Hillman’s headed for lockup as soon as the police track him down. Surely it won’t be much longer.”
Sarah had gotten pretty desperate for an update on her father. He’d embezz
led money from his businesses and disappeared. The Austin police had been getting closer, but Hollister, the Austin detective who’d hounded her for so long, was no longer answering her calls.
Cole’s posture relaxed. She, Stephanie and Jen had all changed their minds about Sarah Hillman since they’d gotten involved in Paws for Love. Apparently, understanding they had something close to being in common changed Cole’s perception, too.
“Nobody was hurt in the robbery. Do I remember that right?” Sarah asked.
“Yes, ma’am. I did a stupid thing, but I’ve learned a lot since. I made a promise. No more trouble. Getting this job would help me keep it.” Cole shifted back and forth and managed to make eye contact with everyone in the room except Rebecca. Bub gave his hand a slurp.
Something about the way his lips softened changed his whole face. Broody disappeared, replaced by humor and affection.
“We haven’t even interviewed the others yet,” Rebecca said. “What if there’s the perfect person in that stack?” She held up both hands. “I’ll get an application. If you measure up, we’ll call you back.” Offering a compromise wasn’t the best solution here, but he wasn’t leaving otherwise.
“Listen...” Cole stopped. His hands tightened into fists. “I know a guy with a record seems like a bad bet. Let me show you what I can do.”
Sarah rested her elbows on the desk. “What did you have in mind?”
Cole straightened his shoulders, as if his confidence grew the closer they got to real work. “Show me your biggest headache. Give me an hour. I’ll have him sitting on command.” He patted his pockets. “But I’ll need some dog treats.”
If he was the kind of guy who made it a policy to always carry dog treats, Sarah would hire him then and there. The former mean girl had a weak spot the size of Texas for her animals.
“Our biggest headache barks when he’s happy, sad, excited or bored, chews on everything that sits still for two seconds, has the attention span of a two-year-old and is the sweetest beagle you’ll ever met,” Jen drawled.
Keeping Cole's Promise Page 2