by M. J. Wilson
It was the longest five minutes of her life as they drove the outskirts of the property to the entrance of Animal Angel Rescue. Some of Mavis’s tension melted away as they got out of the car and she was on familiar footing. “Hey, Milly,” Mavis said to the petite forty-something redhead leaving the building with a German shorthair, blue heeler mix. “Taking Freckles home to foster?”
The dog lunged to the left, and Milly lurched forward, nearly face-planting. She dug in her heels and gave the leash a quick snap. “Sit, Freckles.” The dog complied. “Yes. I decided I have room for one more, and Stella was telling me this one is in need of some leash training.”
A squirrel shot across the parking lot and up a tree, and Freckles took off, dragging Milly fifteen feet before she dug her heels in, halting the forward momentum. She rubbed her shoulder and made a wry face at Mavis.
“Who could tell?” Mavis chuckled. “We really appreciate you fostering two of our dogs.”
“You provide a great service here. I’m happy to do my part.” She shrugged. “Shaggy needed a playmate anyway. Maybe he’ll stop goosing me with that squeaky toy.”
“Good luck, and let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Freckles yanked on seeing a car pass by out front. Milly sighed. “I’m getting this one in the car before he pulls my shoulder out.”
Mavis walked up the steps to the rescue where Weston was waiting with Moose. “Hey.” Mavis turned and hollered to Milly, “Will you be at next weekend’s adoption event?”
“Yep. I’ll bring both dogs… hopefully with a few more manners by then.”
“Terrific. See you then.” Mavis waved.
Weston carried Moose into the clinic, and Stella peered up from behind the reception desk, speechless.
She stood, and her gaze traveled over Mavis.
Mavis smoothed her hands over her hair, and then over her clothes. “Yeah, I didn’t have an opportunity to change… or shower.”
“I can see that. What’s going on?”
Mavis watched two volunteers — one carrying a mop and the other a bucket — push through the swinging door, heading back to the animal area. She turned her attention back to Stella and sighed. A walking corpse had more energy than she did. She rubbed her fingers over the puffy bags under her burning eyes.
“Well?” Stella asked, foot tapping.
Mavis yawned. She recounted her morning’s events.
Stella’s eyebrows knitted into a frown. “I told you living in that trailer wasn’t safe,” she said, slamming her open palm on the counter.
“Stella, you know it’s the best I can do until I get the house finished.” The weight of Stella’s concern increased the tension already hanging in the air. “I’ll be fine,” Mavis reassured. “Detective Speier thinks it was just kids. Isn’t that right, Detective?” He remained silent, and Mavis glanced over her shoulder to ensure he hadn’t left. “Detective?”
“Oh, I can speak now?”
Mavis let out a hearty laugh. “Yes, you can speak.”
“She’s correct,” he said, leaning on the counter. “They got what they wanted. More than likely an isolated incident.”
Stella pressed her lips into a grim line.
“Stella… it’s fine. I’m okay. Besides, I have Moose to keep me safe.”
She remained silent, eyes locked on Mavis.
Mavis sighed and pivoted her attention to Weston. “Thanks so much for the ride. You can go now.”
“I can’t do that — not yet,” he said.
Mavis was immediately put on guard. “Why?”
“I want to see my beautiful girl.”
“Come on, Weston — let’s not go there.” She folded her arms over her chest, tapped her foot, and rolled her eyes skyward.
He glanced to Stella. “Wow. Is she always this conceited?”
When Stella chuckled, Mavis shot her a glare. “And you,” she said, pointing at Weston. “Wipe that amused expression off your face.”
Stella’s chuckle resurfaced, which she hid behind a cough. She pounded on her chest and looked away.
“I wasn’t talking about you.” Weston stared down his nose at Mavis.
“Excuse me?” Mavis narrowed her eyes, and her gaze traveled between Stella and Weston. “I feel like there is some huge joke and I’m being made the butt of it.”
Stella winked at Weston. “He’s talking about Dulce.”
“Huh?” Mavis furrowed her brow.
“He’s been to see her every day. Plays with her, takes her for walks.”
“I haven’t seen you here.” Mavis faced him, tapping her fingers on the counter top.
“No, you haven’t.” Weston turned his attention to Stella. “Okay to go on back?”
“Sure, have at it.” Stella kept her eyes cast away from Mavis.
Mavis waited until the door closed behind him. “Stella.”
“What?”
“Look, I’ve had a crappy day and it’s barely nine. I’m going on little sleep, my place is a disaster and now smells like the city dump from spoiled food, and Moose is unhappy.” She emphasized by setting the howling cat on the counter. “What is the detective talking about?”
“He’s been spending time with Dulce, just like we already said.” Stella shrugged and sat back down in her chair. She started flipping through the mail.
“How is it I haven’t run into him?” Mavis took the mail from Stella and set it back on the counter.
“Because he calls to make sure you’re not here,” Stella muttered, profoundly studying and straightening the adoption forms on the desktop.
Mavis stumbled backward. “Are you serious?”
Stella’s eyes bored into Mavis. “That’s how you wanted it. Isn’t that right?” Her condescending tone shaped each word.
Mavis ran her hand through her hair. “Yeah. That’s right.” Why should Weston taking extreme measures to avoid her create a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach?
Mavis’s shoulders sagged, but only partly from the weight of Moose, as she pulled herself up the stairs to her office. Bumping the door closed with her hip, she opened the carrier door and set Moose loose. Within a minute, Moose had curled up on her bay window seat, where the sun already warmed the spot as though in preparation for her relaxation time.
“Resilient thing, aren’t you?” Mavis said. “And I worried about you being traumatized.” She shook her head and opened her bottom desk drawer where she kept a spare change of clothes stashed.
After changing, she pulled out the bills to work on, but Weston kept invading her thoughts. The way his eyes crinkled in the corner when he smiled. How his voice softened when he asked if she was okay. She dropped her head in her hands. I’m so embarrassed. I’ve been nothing but rude to him. She’d wanted him to dislike her so he would stay away, but Weston kept coming back for more of her abuse. He’s been nothing but nice to me... for the most part. It was apparent to her now that he was a decent human being. Guilt poked her in her gut, causing it to roll the more she thought back on her own behavior. She shook her head, and then sat upright. Shoving the bills back in the file, she sprang from her seat and headed outside before she lost her nerve.
Mavis pushed open the door to the outdoor play area and stood silent, watching Weston roughhouse with Dulce. She rested her hand over the center of her chest. Her throat tightened. It was strange, observing a big, strong guy talk baby talk to a dog while rubbing her belly, and Mavis smirked.
Weston noticed her presence and got to his feet. “I’ll put her back in her kennel and be on my way.”
“Don’t leave on my account,” Mavis said, shaking her head and walking down the ramp that led into the yard.
“It’s fine. I’ll go.” He started past her with Dulce, and she grabbed his arm, regretting it instantly.
A tingling began deep in her belly at the contact, and she snatched her hand back, needing to break the connection. “Wait… please.”
He scrutinized her without speak
ing.
He wasn’t making this easy for her. She let out the breath she had been holding. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, brushing her foot on the ground.
“What?” he asked, leaning in closer. “I couldn’t hear you.”
She narrowed her eyes, meeting his, and sucked in air. “I’m sorry,” she forced out, the words penetrating through gritted teeth.
He threw his head back as though he’d been struck. A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Knock it off. I’m capable of apologizing.” Mavis pushed his upper arm, marveling at how the warmth of his skin lingered on her palm after a simple touch.
“What are you sorry about?” Weston asked, seemingly unable to wipe the smirk off his face.
Mavis leaned back against the building. “I have been rude and abrasive to you, and you were right. I made a judgment about you based on your appearance.”
“What about my appearance?” he questioned, as he bounced each pectoral muscle. “My eyes are up here.” Weston put his finger under her chin and lifted it so she met his eyes.
Mavis laughed because he’d busted her. “You’re a piece of work, but you can’t be that bad. It looks like you love dogs after all.” Mavis looked down at Dulce, who was watching Weston in adoration.
“You were right about me having an opinion about her breed, but you opened my eyes. That’s why I started coming to see her.” Weston bent down to Dulce. “Who’s my girl?” he asked in high-pitched gibberish. “That’s right. You’re my girl.” He scratched her side as she leaned into him. Dulce looked up, her tongue hanging out the side of her open mouth, giving her the appearance of smiling.
“Wow,” Mavis said. “You have a gushy side to you.” Her protective walls were disintegrating around her. She gripped her throat with her fingers. Her pulse throbbed in her belly. Crap, he’s growing on me, and I so want to hate him.
“Don’t tell my partner — my soft side is classified.”
“I like it,” escaped her mouth before she could stop it, and she pressed her lips inward. “Sorry. That was my fatigue talking.” She took a step back to put some space between them.
Weston hesitated for a moment and then moved, closing the gap. He reached out, touching the side of her face. Instinctively, she leaned into his hand. He traced his thumb over her bottom lip.
Lost in his eyes, Mavis relaxed her mouth and parted her lips. Her heart pounded against her rib cage, and she swallowed, trying to break whatever spell he’d cast on her. She listened to his breathing deepen and become rapid, and watched his eyes glazed with desire. Mavis moved her mouth to speak, but he swallowed her words as his lips touched hers.
A surge of emotion flowed inside her, and she leaned into him wanting more, pleading for more, as he pressed her against the building. He wrapped his hands in her hair, turning her head and deepening the kiss. Every sense in her body short-circuited.
She stumbled forward when he pulled back without warning. He spun on his heel, smacked his hip for Dulce to follow, and man with man’s best friend walked inside.
Mavis stood, stunned at his abrupt exit. She swayed when a wave of dizziness rushed through her. Putting her hand on the building, she steadied herself. Oh my. That man knows how to knock the wind out of a girl.
Mavis led a solitary life and refused to get pulled into a relationship. Anger was the defense mechanism she used to keep human contact… human love, at bay. Yet in a short time, Weston had managed to slash open her soul and dump every raw memory, every tribulation, every personal failure, every moment of loneliness, and every insecurity she fought to keep buried, out onto the sidewalk and left them there for her to sort through. Feeling again was ripping her in two. She was struggling to figure out how to shove it all back down deep inside and make these things, emotions, pricking at her heart go numb again.
The impassioned connection between them had her craving his touch — and that terrified her. This display of hormones can’t happen again… I can’t permit it.
Resolute in her decision, she strode inside.
He was closing the kennel door on Dulce when she caught up with him.
She pushed his back with her hand. “What was that?” she asked, drawing an unsteady breath.
“What was what?” he said, turning around like he had all the time in the world.
“Oh… oh.” She jabbed her index finger at his chest in frustration. “Oh… you know what!” She stomped her foot.
“Oh… oh… oh…” he mimicked. “I don’t know, but it was great.” His grin revealed his dimples and the little crinkles around his eyes.
His acknowledgement took some of the wind out of her sails. “Unbelievable.” It came out in a hoarse whisper. She touched her fingers to her lips and leaned her back against the kennel door. That resolution didn’t last long.
“I know,” he said with a wink. “Before I go… what do I need to do to adopt Dulce?”
“Huh? Are you being serious?” She stiffened and moved to face him so she could read his intentions in his eyes. Not that it worked so well a few minutes earlier. He blindsided me with that kiss.
“Yeah. She’s a great dog, and I think she likes me.”
“You’re full of surprises.” Mavis’s erratic emotions were ruining her ability to think straight. However, placing pit bulls in responsible homes could be challenging, and this might be Dulce’s opportunity to have a good home. “There’s paperwork to fill out, and you’ll need a home inspection,” she said, her mind still reeling as the sensation of his warm, inviting lips lingered.
“Perfect, be at my place tomorrow evening at six o’clock. I’ll leave my address with Stella — get some rest. You look like you could use it.” He left her flabbergasted and standing alone for the second time in ten minutes.
“No, tomorrow won’t work for me,” she mumbled. “Well, Dulce, it looks like you might have just found yourself a home. As for me… I need therapy.”
****
“Isn’t that great news?” Stella jumped up, clapping her hands together. “She’s got a home, and we thought she would be a tough placement. Oh, and here is Detective Speier’s address,” she said, ripping a piece of paper from a notebook.
“Take a breath, Stella.” Mavis took the address from her. “He might not pass the inspection, so let’s just wait and see.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Stella crossed her arms.
“Now what?”
“You like him. I can tell,” she said, a single eyebrow arched.
“For crying out loud. I need a drink and it’s not even noon.” Mavis walked up to her office.
“Progress is made. You didn’t deny it,” Stella yelled after her.
Mavis slammed her office door.
Chapter Six
Mavis stayed at her trailer most of the next day cleaning up the mess. It almost appeared normal again after hours of scrubbing, scraping, uprighting, and sweeping. That was, except for the rips in her mattress and love seat. She didn’t own a lot of stuff, so the insurance company had said they should be able to process her claim fairly quickly. Although she wasn’t sure what time frame “fairly” encompassed.
Six o’clock approached, and the time came to bite the bullet and head over to Weston’s. She rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet, thinking about having to face him again. Why hadn’t she asked Stella to do the inspection?
She twirled a section of her hair around her finger. Because she wanted to see him again, that was why. What’s wrong with me? I want to be near him — feel his presence. His energy is like a magnet drawing me to him. But I can’t start something with this man, or any man. She chewed on her cuticle. Mom, if you’re somewhere out there listening, help me. Tell me what I’m supposed to do when what I want is in direct contradiction with what I know I can have.
A shriek brought her nervous rocking to a halt. “Oh no… I’m so sorry, Moose. I didn’t see your tail.”
The cat glared at her, settling down on the back of the love seat, flitting he
r tail back and forth. Mavis reached out to stroke Moose and met with a low growl. “I said I was sorry. Good heavens, Moose, I have some troubles of my own. For one, I can’t seem to get my feet to take me out that door.” Moose watched her every movement. “Fine, I’ll leave and give you time to get over the accident, and it was an accident.”
She shook out a few treats from the bag on the end table, laid them in front of her, and was rewarded with a purr. “Flaky cat.” Mavis scratched Moose’s ears. “I am a professional and have a job to do. This is all business, and I can keep it platonic.”
She rolled her neck in a circle and bounced on her toes, acting like she was preparing to go into a boxing ring. Moose hissed. “Too soon, huh?” Moose curled her tail around her body. “You have trust issues.” She would swear the cat’s eyes were telling her: ‘and you’re a coward’.
Mavis blew out an unsteady breath. “Alright, feet, let’s go.”
****
A nice beige, brick ranch-style house came into view. Mavis checked the address. This is it, and on a quiet cul-de-sac… well done, Detective. The rescue van bumped the curb and she slammed on the brakes. Whoops. Guess I should look where I’m going.
Putting it in reverse, she straightened out and parked next to the curb, turning the key in the ignition to shut off the engine. Her head turned to study the place out of her window. Nice digs for a cop. She stepped out and leaned against her closed door. The large front yard was shaded with oak trees, maples, and dogwoods. She appreciated the simple but attractive landscaping and loved the hostas, azaleas, and liriope outlining the house. The lawn was perfectly manicured and edged around the driveway and sidewalk, and she imagined him on his hands and knees with a pair of scissors. A smile slid across her face at the thought. A privacy fence screened the back yard from her view. Great, a point in his favor — two considering the road is absent of traffic.
Convincing her feet to move forward, she crossed the street and shuffled up the sidewalk. She stared, unmoving, at his front door for what felt like a millennium, before lifting her fist. Then she froze. Her stomach lurched. She swallowed and blew out a calming breath. Okay, Mavis, this is business. You can do it.