A New Leash on Love

by Debbie Burns

  “This might help.” She passed a worn rope over the desk. “Puppies have an insatiable need to chew.”

  Amiable, Craig. Be amiable and get through this. “I’ve noticed that with this one.”

  “It’s because he’s teething. They tend to be over the worst of it by the time they’re six months.”

  Craig clamped his jaw tight. He could feel the inevitable sales pitch coming on. Damn it for not trying harder to get Inez to do this. Whether she was pretty or not, he couldn’t handle this girl’s attitude. Not today. Not when everything in his world had closed in so tightly.

  The girl glanced up and made genuine eye contact with him for the first time. She did an obvious double take, then shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. “We have some forms and a short questionnaire. And there’s a seventy-five-dollar surrender fee.”

  “Fine.”

  She fidgeted with her papers and chewed on her lower lip—a particularly full lower lip—before speaking. “We pride ourselves on being a very special shelter. We do our best to offer every animal we house exceptional care. Because of this, we have to limit the number of animals we take in. And we like to start by asking if you’ve tried everything possible to make your relationship with this puppy work. There are dozens of skilled trainers out there that we could refer you to. There are even places where you can board him or her while—”

  “Please,” Craig said, holding up a hand to stop her. “There’s nothing you can say or do to convince me to keep him. There are extenuating circumstances, and this is my only option, so let’s cut to the chase. Will you take him or not?”

  He watched her mouth fall open an inch or two. The smooth skin of her cheeks blushed pink. Her fingers drummed on the desktop. She started to speak, stopped, and started again.

  “Our recommended legal care limit is seventy-five animals. Yesterday when I left, we had fifty-three dogs, eighteen cats, and six rabbits. This meant we were over the limit by two. With your puppy and the dog I brought in this morning, we’re—” She stopped abruptly and gave a little shake of her head. “It’s not like you care.”

  Who was she to presume what he cared about? Craig felt the adrenaline surging through his veins, readying him for a fight. And he could fight with the best of them. Just not right now. And not with this pretty, impassioned girl who reminded him of a someday Sophie. Whether he liked it or not, his daughter was going to grow up to be all heart, just like this Megan woman was.

  Gathering the puppy in his arms, he stood up from the desk. “This is unbelievable.” He’d sneak the little devil into his no-pets apartment tonight and find another shelter in the morning.

  * * *

  Feeling the frustration knotting her belly switch to worry, Megan jogged after him. In case Marv was right, she couldn’t let him leave.

  She caught up with him as he reached the door. “Listen, sir, we’ll take your puppy provided you fill out the questionnaire and pay the required fees.”

  The man’s shoulders dropped, and he turned to face her. She noticed his clenched jaw by the defined muscles highlighting his cheekbones.

  He turned to Marv, who was standing at the nearest clothing rack pretending to organize the T-shirts while he eavesdropped. “Is there someone else I could work with?”

  It felt like a slap in the face. Had she really been that offensive? Marv looked at her and offered a helpless shrug.

  “Not today, unfortunately,” Megan said. Then realizing how much it sounded like a slam, she spurted out something about the lead adoption coordinator being sick.

  With a shake of his head, Craig followed her to the desk. “What questions do you have?”

  Suspecting she was treading on thin ice, Megan sank into her seat and rolled her pen between two fingers. “Just a few to help us find him a new home.”

  He readjusted the puppy as he sat down. It rested its head in his elbow, its small blue-brown eyes watching her from across the desk.

  Looking up from the puppy and directly at the man, Megan felt heat flash up her neck. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this unsettled. If only he wasn’t so good-looking. Or if he had a blemish she could focus on. A large, hairy wart. An exceptionally weak chin. A long, black hair sliding out of his nose. Something—anything—besides eyes as deep blue as the seas off the Maldives and features chiseled to perfection.

  His hair was dark blond. That was something. She preferred men with darker hair.

  She did her best to pay attention to the questions in the paperwork in front of her. But on top of his looks, there was his anger. Those remarkable eyes were shooting venom-crusted daggers at her.

  “His or her name to start with,” she said. Her voice sounded smaller than she wanted it to. She sat straighter and arched her back, then wished she hadn’t because he’d probably think she was trying to draw attention to her boobs. With looks like his, those clothes, and that car, she bet women were always throwing themselves at him.

  He blinked and glanced down at the dog. “His. They were having a hard time deciding on one. I can’t remember what they finally decided. And I can’t see how that matters.”

  Try as she might, Megan couldn’t not respond. “Dogs are intelligent, social animals. And they’re quick to learn their names. His might be of some comfort if he hears it in this unfamiliar place. Names also help our customers identify with these animals as individuals.”

  “Hershey,” he said after a delayed silence. “I’m pretty sure they’d decided on Hershey.”

  “Okay, Hershey it is. Do you have any idea how old he is?”

  “They got him about ten days before Christmas. I think he was six weeks old at the time. I left his papers in the car.”

  “He’s registered then?”

  “Yes.”

  Megan nodded. Hershey would be adopted way before Sledge, no question. Unlike full-grown German shepherds with unknown histories, purebred Labs a few months old were always in demand. She could tell the man this to ease his conscience—something she pretty much doubted he had—but opted not to.

  “Has he had regular veterinary exams?”

  “Yes. I have those records in the car as well.”

  “Good.” Why couldn’t Kelsey be here? She did such a better job at this. Megan’s notes looked like chicken scratches dotting the page. Cut it short and get him out of here.

  “Is there anything you’d like us to know about his personality?”

  The man shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s your typical insane little puppy.”

  Another retort tumbled out before she could pull it back. “Fortunately for many dog owners, insane little puppies grow up to make pretty incredible pets.”

  His jaw clenched, and he shifted in the chair. “Look. I can see this is a disappointment for you. But I’d think, in the position you’re in, that you would be accustomed—”

  “To disappointment?” she finished. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just shut up? Showing this man that he was wrong wasn’t the answer to anything. Still, she pressed on, letting her emotions take the lead. “I’m accustomed to disappointment. I could take you back to the kennels and introduce you to some disappointments that would probably keep you awake tonight. What I’ve forgotten how to handle is when I see people rise to the occasion. When they do their personal best.”

  The room fell remarkably silent. In the gift shop, Marv stopped shuffling. As if he’d picked up on the tension rippling through the air, Patrick stopped mumbling and the water hose in back flipped off. The only thing to break the silence, as the seconds tumbled on, was a single yawn from the puppy.

  Megan held her breath. She didn’t know what she wanted the man to say, but she wanted a response. More than anything else she could think of right now, she wanted his response. She had no idea why. But she did.

  He searched her face for what felt like forever, then st
ood up.

  “If you’re going to take him, take him. I’m done with this.” He plopped the dog on the desk, pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet, and tossed it next to the dog.

  Megan popped up, scooping the puppy into her arms before he could wander over the edge of the desk.

  The man started to turn away, then changed his mind and stared at her for several seconds. He looked as if he was about to lecture her, but then he gave a small shake of his head. He stormed through the lobby and out the door.

  Patrick, astute as ever, stepped in from the kennels and joined her at the desk. “He didn’t stay to get his change. Why didn’t he stay to get his change?”

  “Something tells me he doesn’t need it, Patrick,” Marv said, closing the distance between them. “You okay, honey?”

  She was glad there was a desk between her and Marv. She didn’t want comfort right now, or she’d start crying. In almost four years here, she’d seen a lot of surrenders and had always managed to hold her tongue, however ridiculous or inhumane the owners seemed. This puppy was fat and healthy and had clearly been given the basic necessities. She’d seen worse. No question. It wasn’t fair of her to have lost it with that man.

  But she hadn’t been able to stop herself. It had to be because of the monster overload of emotions still pressing against her chest from this morning.

  Resting in her hands, the puppy had watched the man walk out the door and was beginning to whine.

  “Don’t cry for him, little guy. He isn’t worth it.”

  * * *

  Megan’s body was humming with unspent adrenaline ten minutes later as she stood outside her RAV4. Stinging-cold drops of rain pelted her face. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs or start kicking the side of her frozen-shut door until the ball of tension inside her receded.

  Instead, she pressed her forehead against the edge of the roof and let the glaze of ice sting her skin. It was stupid to try to drive now anyway. The roads were getting worse, and she was wired. But she wanted to get away. Needed to get away. Gritting her teeth, she yanked on the door again. It was no use. The freezing rain had sealed it shut.

  She lifted her foot against the slippery frame as a brace and tugged the handle as hard as she could. The door wouldn’t budge. Ready to give up and skate-walk her energy off out in the cold, she heard a car come to an abrupt halt not far behind her. She looked over and let go of her hold on the car. It was him.

  A wave of disbelief rushed over her as he stepped out and crossed in front of his car. He was still angry. She could tell by his walk and the set of his shoulders. Maybe even angrier than when he’d walked out. Without so much as glancing her way, he yanked open the passenger door of his car and leaned inside.

  She stood frozen in place, waiting for whatever retaliation he intended to dish out. She’d acted inappropriately. Now that she had a few minutes’ distance from it, she saw it. If he intended to call her on it, so what?

  He stood upright, slammed the door, and turned her way. She saw a flash of white in his hand. Papers. It was only the papers.

  “Here,” he said, holding them out.

  With shaky fingers, she slipped them inside her coat to keep them dry. “Marv can still give you your change if you want it,” she offered, not able to summon the apology hiding down in her throat. It wasn’t the right thing to say. She could tell by the fresh flash of anger that shot through his eyes.

  He turned away, shaking his head and heading back to his car. Just as she let out a sigh of relief, he whipped around and stalked toward her again. He stopped close, so close she could count the dark-blond stubble covering his cheeks and chin if she wanted to. Since leaving, he’d taken off his overcoat and was standing in a dress shirt that gaped open at the collar, exposing a vulnerability she hadn’t seen inside.

  “Do you know what pisses me off?” he asked, leaning closer. So close that his breath—minty fresh—brushed against her nostrils.

  He didn’t wait for her answer. “It’s bleeding-heart romantics like you who can’t possibly bend to see something from someone else’s side, not even for a second. It wasn’t easy for me to bring that damned dog here. It’s going to break my daughter’s heart to lose him. And that heart of hers has already been crushed to pieces.”

  He backed off an inch or two and ran his fingers through his hair, spraying raindrops. “And you…you can’t even bring yourself to understand that circumstances change. Things happen we don’t plan for. Six months ago when we started looking for a dog, I had no idea what would be happening in my life right now. And you with your contempt for those of us who lack your passion for this.” He waved his hand toward the shelter. “You had to show up today of all days. Well, it certainly wouldn’t kill you to swallow some of that contempt the next time someone humbles themselves to bring in an animal that isn’t working out for one reason or another.”

  She kept her arms locked across her chest as she listened. The rain was coming down harder, soaking her, and she was starting to shake.

  But fresh, hot anger burned her lips. He didn’t see it. He didn’t see how special this place was. “I’m sorry if I failed to notice how you were humbling yourself this afternoon. My job is to care for these animals, not to care about the people who fail to care for them.”

  He pointed a finger toward her chest. “You are employed at an animal shelter, lady. Like it or not, you need people like me to keep your business going. Otherwise, you’d run out of animals and have to shut your doors. But let’s not hope for that, because then you’d have to let go of the grudge you’re carrying.”

  “Ha,” she spat out, angry but also very close to crying. “There’s a fat chance in hell something like that’ll happen. Ever. You wouldn’t believe the battles we face every day. And it’s the same all over the country. Only you’ve no idea because people like you have their heads in the sand.”

  “I’ve got my head in the sand, huh? Maybe that’s why everything looks so shitty.”

  She swallowed hard and swiped at a single escaped tear. “What you don’t understand is that bringing that puppy through our doors means one less chance of someone adopting one of our long shots. And when we can’t take any more animals in, they may not have the same chance elsewhere.”

  He held up his hands, splaying his fingers. “That’s not my problem, lady.”

  Another stupid, rebellious tear slid out, and she saw his gaze get drawn to it, which made her angrier. “That’s right. You paid your dues. You can sleep soundly tonight.”

  He held up a hand as if to stop her, then let out a low, dry laugh that sounded raked with pain. “Just back up a minute, will you?” He sidestepped around her and reached for her door handle.

  She slid out of his way, stunned, trying to erase the smell of cedar and sage from her nostrils.

  Jaw clenched, he braced one hand against the body of her car and pulled hard on the handle with the other. At first, nothing happened as he strained against it. Then there was a loud sucking sound, and the door popped open. The interior light flipped on, illuminating his eyes and highlighting the water droplets on his face and shoulders.

  “There you go. Though if you ask me, you shouldn’t drive until you calm down.” He stared at her hard as he brushed the rain from his forehead. A silence passed between them heavier than the ice layer causing nearby branches to creak.

  There was a thanks somewhere in the back of her throat, but Megan knew if she said it, she’d start crying for real.

  With a brisk nod, he stepped back. “With any luck, we’ll never cross paths again.”

  Chapter 3

  With rage racing through his veins—and shushing the regret attempting to push to the surface—Craig navigated semi-hazardous roads a full twenty minutes before noticing his surroundings. The place he’d driven to while on autopilot didn’t surprise him. He didn’t come here often. In fact, he rarely mad
e the conscious decision to do so. Yet he’d find himself here at times when he had somewhere else to be but had allowed his mind to wander while driving.

  He’d blink in surprise at the imposing wrought-iron gates and the rolling fields pocked with cold marble headstones and dotted with sprawling oaks. The quiet roads that led here weren’t on the way to anywhere in particular. Yet this place beckoned him when he needed it most.

  Craig turned in cautiously, doubting the narrow cemetery roads had been salted. Not many people would be out visiting the deceased today. He’d never forget choosing this place amid the numbing chaos in the days—or was it hours—after Andrew’s death. His final resting place. Craig had wanted to smash the funeral director’s face in when he spoke those simple but devastating words. Now it was nearly three years later, three impossibly long and at the same time short years.

  He stepped from his car still coatless and worked his way up the slippery hillside to Andrew’s grave. Reaching it, he shoved his hands in his pants’ pockets and passed the first several minutes in silence. Gradually, he became aware of the gentle tapping of the rain and sleet soaking his clothes and the melting ice beginning to soak through his leather shoes.

  Craig closed his eyes and was surprised at the image of a pair of tightly drawn but rosy lips that still resided behind his lids. The girl from the shelter was an intruder, flashing into his mind in this private world of Andrew’s. Here he thought and spoke only of family and of all things Andrew. Of Reese and Sophie growing up while their brother didn’t. Of Jillian slipping away from him. Or had he slipped away from her? Of her distinctive signature—crisp and bold—sprawled over the divorce papers tucked in an envelope on his passenger seat.

  When the image burning his lids abruptly switched to a quivering chin and wispy strands of hair that were starting to freeze, he opened his eyes and scanned the marble headstones nearest Andrew’s. No one new had joined his son’s silent world.

  “I was an ass today. You’d have been disappointed.” A bitter laugh worked its way out as he thought of the shambles of Andrew’s family. “Who am I kidding? When wouldn’t you have been disappointed lately?”