“Just talking to myself.”
Dakota dreamed of having every kennel and crate at the rescue empty, but a broken water pipe wasn’t how she saw that happening.
Veronica attached strips of masking tape to the tops of crates and then wrote the name of the animal inside. “How are the calls going?”
“Good.” Dakota tucked her phone in her back pocket. “Between those and a social media blast, we have temporary foster offers stretching from Bozeman to Livingston, including several here in Marietta. We need a few more.”
A total of sixty-five spots were needed—twenty-one dogs and forty-two cats, along with two rabbits that had arrived earlier today and hadn’t yet been vetted. Not quite full capacity, but close.
“I’m waiting to hear back from a few people, and then I’ll make more calls,” she added.
Everything appeared to be going well so far, but Dakota worried she might be forgetting something important. “I want to double-check that each animal has an info sheet.”
The pages came from a three-ring binder that could be accessed in a hurry. No printer required in case of power outage. One copy belonged to the rescue. The other would go with the animal.
Veronica raised the roll of tape. “I’ll get back to taping the crates.”
Dakota walked to the end of one row. Her feet ached after standing all day at the chocolate shop, but she wasn’t about to take a break until the animals were on their way.
Inside the first crate, a yellow Labrador puppy named Frisco slept in spite of the noise. A paw twitched. He must be dreaming.
That thought brought a much-needed smile to her face.
Dakota made sure the puppy’s name was written on the info sheet. She didn’t read the rest of the page. One word was enough for her tired brain to process. She placed the paper back into the bag and moved onto the next animal.
“Hungry?”
She jumped. The male voice startled her.
Bryce Grayson stood off to the side. He looked like he didn’t want to get too close to the dogs even though they were in crates.
The man was hot—no denying that—but not even his eyes could compare to the pizza box he held. That was the most attractive thing she’d seen in hours.
Her stomach did a happy dance.
“Starving,” she answered. “I skipped lunch and was planning to eat dinner after I walked the dogs.”
“Someone ordered pizza. We’ve been chowing down on the other side of the parking lot, but I wanted to make sure you and the people over here got slices.”
That was thoughtful of him. Unexpected given his attitude when he’d talked to her at Walt’s place. “Thanks.”
Was Bryce more like his father than not? So far, she hadn’t seen that many similarities between the two beyond their gender and looks. The way Bryce had flinched around Rascal made her wonder if he was either scared of dogs or didn’t like them. Maybe both?
He brought the box closer. “I hope you like pepperoni.”
As he opened the lid, she wanted to sigh. The smell greeted her like a long lost friend. “My favorite.”
“Take a slice.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. She took a piece and a napkin tucked inside the box. “Still warm. Nice job.”
A charming smile that heated her insides was his reply.
Better eat before she said something to him she might regret. Dakota bit into the piece.
The seasoning, sauce, and pepperoni exploded in her mouth. The cheese was gooey. Just the way she liked it. She savored the taste and then swallowed.
“This is exactly what I needed.” She took bite after bite until the piece disappeared.
He offered the box again. “Have another slice.”
She counted the number of people working around the crates. “Give everyone else a piece first.”
“Sure?”
“Positive.” She wiped her mouth with the napkin. “I didn’t expect to eat anything until I got home. This is all I need for now.”
With her stomach satisfied, Dakota noticed Bryce had changed out of the loafers and into work boots. Black ones tied with laces.
Smart move, but he hadn’t changed his clothes. Stains, a combination of water and mud, streaked his khaki pants.
Should have listened to me.
Kelly had told Dakota she couldn’t help everyone, but she still had to try. However, what Bryce wore or did to his clothing was none of her business.
“Thanks again for the pizza.” She hoped he took the hint and left her alone.
“You have a lot to do.”
“Transferring a rescue full of animals is not an easy task. No one could it alone, but fortunately, there’s plenty of help.” She tilted her head toward the volunteers and staff working around her. “I appreciate them, and I’m also thankful you’re helping out.”
“I haven’t done much.”
She took another look at him. “You’re pretty dirty for standing around.”
“I’ve been moving items out. Not working hard like you.”
The hair on her arms prickled. She eyed him warily. “You’ve been watching me?”
“My dad asked me to keep an eye out for you.”
That sounded like Walt. Dakota guessed he ordered the pizzas, too. She could take care of herself, but she wouldn’t say anything that might hurt Walt’s feelings. “Tell your dad I’m doing great.”
“You must be tired after working at your other job.”
Complaining wouldn’t help the animals, and it would only aggravate her. “Others here worked longer hours than me. They have to be more tired and hungry.”
“I’ll pass out the pizza before it gets cold.”
Before she could thank him, he was walking toward Veronica.
Dakota read the name on the next info sheet and jotted a note about Casper liking warm water mixed in his food. She read the sentence twice, corrected two spelling mistakes, and slipped the page into the bag.
Her gaze, however, followed Bryce.
Stop.
Yes, he was attractive.
But this wasn’t the time or place to be staring at him.
A Patterdale Terrier named Bodie pawed at the door to his crate. He’d been found on the side of the highway over a month ago. No collar or microchip, but he could sit, shake, and roll over on command. Unfortunately, no one responded to the lost and found posts on the Internet or in the Copper Mountain Courier.
“You’ll be able to run around soon,” she said.
The dog stared up at her as if he understood.
She had no doubt he did.
She caught a glimpse of Bryce passing out more pizza. Making sure they ate was a nice gesture.
“Dakota!”
Maddie Cash, an agent with Styles Realty, wove her way around the crates. She was stunning with long, blond hair and expertly applied makeup. Her A-line yellow wool coat was buttoned at the top, but swung open at the bottom and showed off multicolored print leggings tucked into stylish black boots, a fashionable tunic, and a sparkly necklace.
“I heard about the broken pipe and came right over.” Concerned filled Maddie’s voice. She touched Dakota’s arm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
At first glance, the real estate agent appeared to be nothing more than a party girl who used her daddy’s credit card to color her supermodel hair and buy fashionista clothing, but beneath the glitz and glam was a generous young woman with a warm heart. Dakota had gotten to know Maddie at one of the rescue’s fundraising events where the real estate agent had surprisingly mentioned wanting to foster a dog.
No time like the present.
“Is there any way you could take one of the dogs temporarily?” Dakota asked. “I need to find places for all of them, so if you could take one for tonight—”
“Tonight or longer. Whatever you need.” The words rushed from Maddie’s mouth. “I read the info you gave me on fostering. I’m happy to help. I would love to help.”
“Thank you.” Dakota studied
the list of dogs to see who would fit best with Maddie. “Clementine.”
“Excuse me?”
“We have a young Yorkshire Terrier mix named Clementine who, I think, will be perfect for you and you for her. Clementine’s elderly owner passed away recently, and the dog was surrendered to the rescue by the woman’s family.”
“How sad.”
Dakota nodded. “Animals grieve, too. Being in a home instead of at another rescue group or vet office will be better for Clementine. She’s a sweet pup, but she does have a bit of an attitude. I’m not sure I’d call her a diva, but I believe she might have been a tad indulged in her former home.”
Maddie grinned. “Clementine and I should get along splendidly.”
“I’ll warn you that she needs training. Obedience isn’t in her vocabulary yet. She also tinkles if she gets too excited.”
“No problem. It’s only for a few days.” Maddie didn’t hesitate, which lessened Dakota’s concerns. “I have hardwood floors. That will make any cleanup easy.”
“Fantastic.” Dakota handed her clipboard to Maddie. A pen was attached with a frayed string. “Fill out this form while I get her.”
She walked toward the smaller crates and then picked up Clementine’s along with her bag. “You, my beautiful girl, just hit the lottery. I bet you find yourself with a blinged-out collar. Hot pink or purple would be my guess. And a matching sweater. Designer label.”
Clementine lifted her nose as if she were above humans. Well, Dakota.
“Be nice,” she said. “You might be able to turn this into a permanent gig.”
The dog looked away.
“Suit yourself.” A minute later, she handed the crate and plastic bag to Maddie. “This is Clementine.”
Maddie peered into the crate. “Hello, little one. You’re as pretty as a princess. Bet you’d look adorable in a tiny tiara.”
Clementine barked.
“Is that a good sign?” Maddie asked.
“Yes.” Considering the real estate agent received a reply from the dog while Dakota had been ignored completely. “A very good sign.”
Maddie blew out a puff of air.
Dakota scanned the filled-out form. “Everything looks good. Inside the bag is information about Clementine and food.”
Maddie beamed “I’m—we’re—all set.”
“I really appreciate this.”
Maddie glanced at the crate in one hand and the trash bag in the other. Her smile wavered before widening. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I’ll let you know when the animals can return to the rescue, and please call me if you have any questions. My number is on the info sheet.”
“I will. And if you need any places for cats, contact Cynthia Henley. She’s my stepsister and is a crazy cat-lover.”
With that, Maddie walked off with Clementine.
One less dog to place tonight…
Dakota wrote Cynthia’s name down on the potential cat foster list.
The barks and meows increased. Dakota had no idea why, but the cacophony of confusion, disapproval, and fear broke her heart. Who wanted to find themselves in unfamiliar crates outside at night? Being at the rescue was hard enough for some.
“It’s going to be okay.” She said the words to no dog or cat in particular, and as much for the animals as herself. She wanted to stay positive, but uncertainty was increasing by the minute.
If only she knew more about the water damage inside…
Worry knotted her stomach.
“I’ve got two more for you.” Dustin Decker, a wrangler with all-American good looks who worked at the Bar V5 Dude Ranch, held onto the leash of a bulldog named Dozer and a smaller cat carrier containing a calico named Patches. “The dog is wet. He decided to play in the puddles on our way out.”
“Oh, Dozer. You water dog, you.” She set her clipboard on a crate and picked up a nearby towel. “Let’s get you dried off.”
The cowboy walked with a slight limp due to old rodeo injuries. He handed her Dozer’s leash and set the cat crate near the other felines.
“A few dogs don’t want to wade through the water, so we might have to carry them.”
She knew who one might be. “River Jack?”
Dustin’s brows drew together. “How did you know?”
“Sounds like him.” River Jack was an obese Golden Retriever who’d been found down by the river over a year ago. He was one of the Lonely Hearts—what the staff called the animals that had been at the rescue for months, some even years. “He’s been on a diet since he arrived, but he has more weight to lose. Be careful if you try to lift him.”
“Doubt River Jack’s heavier than the calves I work with.” Dustin flashed her a charming grin. “I can handle him.”
“Promise me you’ll bend your knees.”
He tipped his hat. “I promise.”
As Dustin walked back toward the building, she toweled off Dozer.
Gratitude swelled inside her for Dustin and the others who had shown up due to a callout made at Grey’s Saloon. Dakota wasn’t surprised so many people had come to help. The caring community was one of the big draws of this quaint, small town.
An army brat, she’d moved so much growing up that she didn’t feel like she’d ever had a hometown, just a long list of places where she’d lived. Whenever she’d visited her great aunt Alice, who lived in Marietta, she’d felt different, as if she belonged here. When her aging aunt had wanted someone to live in the house with her, Dakota, fresh from college with a hard-earned sociology degree, had jumped at the opportunity. She could “put down roots” as Aunt Alice used to say. And Dakota had. She planned to stay forever and hoped to convince her brother York to move here after he left the Air Force in the spring.
Dakota might not be as smart as her siblings, but she could make a home for her brother and sister. A place they could come to for a vacation or permanently, but not like the base housing or rentals they’d lived in growing up. No worries about pets being allowed or the security deposit not being returned. A house that was fully paid for thanks to the generosity of Aunt Alice who’d left her entire estate to Dakota.
“You’re drier now.” She patted Dozer’s head. “Let’s put you into a crate where you’ll be safe.”
The dog trotted into an empty crate.
“Good boy.” She locked the door and double-checked the latch was secure. “I’ll be back to check on you.”
Amid the barks and meows, a whimpering sounded.
Oh, no. Someone was unhappy. Most likely afraid due to their new surroundings. She needed to find out who ASAP.
Clipboard in hand, Dakota followed the sound. The whimpers grew louder. She was getting closer, but she noticed none of the dogs near her looked happy.
Molly, a poodle mix, faced the back of the crate as if in a time out, but she wasn’t making a sound. She was a lap dog who loved being petted and brushed. The dog hadn’t gotten along with her owner’s new boyfriend, so Molly had been surrendered. A generous donation had been made for the dog’s care, but that hadn’t helped the dog understand why she’d been left.
“You’ll be inside soon. I promise.”
Molly didn’t move. The only time she perked up was when someone held her.
Poor baby.
If Dakota had been faced with the same decision, she would have dumped the guy and kept Molly. Dogs were the best judge of character. None of her foster dogs had liked Craig or her other ex-boyfriends, either. The men had blamed the animals and the rescue for taking too much of her time. She would have to remember to trust the animals’ judgment the next time she dated.
The whimpering stopped.
That didn’t mean all was well. She needed to find the dog.
The next crate contained Fred, who’d come to them from a high-kill shelter in Southern California. The Dachshund mix trembled, even though he wore a sweater that a volunteer had knitted for him. Fred was another Lonely Heart animal. He’d lived at the rescue for over a year.
&
nbsp; “You look dapper, Fred, but it’s colder than you’re used to. You won’t be outside much longer.”
The whimpering sounded again.
Who was that?
She spotted the crate—Maverick, a Border collie whose owner, a retired rancher from Livingston, had entered an assisted living center two weeks ago. Pets weren’t allowed in the facility. With no other family around, Maverick had no place to go, so he’d ended up at Whiskers and Paw Pals.
She kneeled in front of the crate’s door.
Maverick’s head hung low. Being in the rescue was hard enough after having a huge ranch to roam. She had no doubt he hated being locked in this hard-sided crate.
Dakota stuck her fingers through the door’s grate. “I can’t let you out, honey. This is the safest place for you right now.” She touched his fur with her fingertips. “You’re going to spend tonight somewhere else. Maybe tomorrow, too, but you’ll be back before you know it. If not, I’ll come visit. I promise.”
Maverick rubbed his muzzle against her fingers.
Her heart squeezed. The dog was seven, well behaved, and loved kids and cats. Dakota was surprised he was still at the rescue, but adoptions had been slow lately, which was why they were so full.
“You’re such a good boy.” Touching Maverick seemed to calm him. “You’ll find a new home soon.”
Maverick’s ears perked.
“What is it?”
“The dog likes you,” Bryce said. She recognized his voice this time.
“This is Maverick.” She kept her fingers between the grating. “He likes everyone.”
Too bad she couldn’t say the same about Bryce. Okay, that wasn’t nice. The man had brought her pizza.
Dakota focused her attention on Maverick, who pressed against her fingers. He wanted to be on her lap, but she couldn’t let him out. Instead, she petted him as best she could.
“There’s pizza left,” Bryce said.
She glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze stared right at his pant zipper. She gulped. Not the view she expected or wanted.
Dakota faced the dog.
Maverick pressed his wet nose against her fingers.
She leaned closer to the crate and whispered, “Be right back.”
Dakota stood. “Thanks, but one slice was enough.”
A Thankful Heart (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 2) Page 4