Need You for Keeps (Heroes of St. Helena, #1)(12)
Shay arrived for her shift at the Paws and Claws Day Spa a few minutes early. She had to put out the water dishes, make sure she had enough peanut butter pupcakes on hand, and still have time to post her flyers announcing the upcoming signings in the window before the customers started pouring in.
Even though it had been raining when she’d left the house, a freak midsummer storm, Shay had walked to work because her oldest rescue, Jabba, needed to burn off the economy-sized box of pudding cups he’d found in the pantry. Today was his day to find a home, Shay just knew it, and since Jabba was a dump truck of a dog who waddled when he walked and made more gastrointestinal noises than a tent full of Boy Scouts, she was determined not to let a little gas ruin his chances.
What better place to meet his future family than at a crowded pet day spa full of dog lovers?
Okay, so she’d also risked frizzy hair because Wednesday was her neighbor’s day off. Not Estella. Her other neighbor. The one with the amazing tail who kept threatening to cuff her. Only to turn around and bring her a coffee.
Last spring, Jonah had purchased the run-down Craftsman across the street and liked to spend his day off doing manly improvements outside, like digging fence posts, lifting heavy things, and working on the roof. And if Shay timed her departure right, which she always did, she’d catch him just as he was starting to get a little hot and a whole lot sweaty.
She’d smile and say good morning, he’d tip his hat begrudgingly, then pretend he wasn’t checking out her butt when she walked to work, and she’d pretend she always had that swish to her stride. It was their thing. And she looked forward to it.
Only this morning he’d been a no-show, and for some reason that bothered her. Especially after last week in the park. She’d wanted to tell him how sweet it was that he had remembered how she took her coffee—how she hadn’t felt so alone after losing Tripod, but she hadn’t seen Jonah since.
It’s just a cup of coffee, Shay. And she’d do best to remember that.
Shay dropped her bag in her styling chair, unleashed Jabba, who collapsed on the floor panting as if he’d just hiked the north face of Mount Eiger, and was pulling out her new adoption flyers when Peggy appeared from the back room.
“How many more of those dogs did you adopt out last week?”
“Just Tripod,” Shay said but gave a secret smile because she was pretty sure she’d found the perfect family for her nine-year-old beagle, Yodel. The applicant, Ms. Abernathy, was a widow, lived in a house with an enclosed yard, and didn’t like to use her hearing aids—a bonus since Yodel more than lived up to his name.
Peggy didn’t smile back. Eyes serious and lips grim, she reached under the counter and came up with a cardboard box, which she gingerly set right between a display of cheddar dog biscuits and hanging gem-encrusted cat collars.
“I don’t even know why I’m showing you this—you need another charity case like you need a hole in your head—but this was sitting by the back door and it had your name on it, so, here you go.”
Shay walked over to the box, her resolve already melting at the little mewing sounds emanating from the cardboard. She knew what was inside—the holes punched in the top told her it was bundles of love just waiting for someone to recognize what they had to offer. She reached for the lid.
“Before you open that,” Peggy jumped in, “and your save-the-world attitude takes over, remember that you have four dogs who are already counting on you to save their world. And with Bark in the Park coming up, my kennels are booked with clients.”
“I know.” And she did. Her house was already at capacity, which meant she had no business opening that box, because if Peggy was giving her a warning, there was another option.
“Booked, dear. As in, no matter what is in there, I can’t help because there will be no additional space.” Peggy tried to sound stern but failed miserably. It was then that Shay knew Peggy had already peeked inside the box, and what she’d seen was too cute to say no to.
“I wouldn’t expect you to give up kennel space, Peg. Plus, I think Yodel found his new family. All that’s left is the surprise house inspection.” Something that Shay did for all of her pets before she agreed to the adoption. Doing a walk-through when the applicants expected it gave them time to put on their best faces. Shay wanted to see them when they didn’t think anyone was watching.
“Which leaves you with only one space,” Peggy warned, and Shay’s smile went full-blown. For more than one critter to be in a box that size meant—
“Kitties,” she cooed as she opened the lid and found a plethora of whiskers and wet pink noses, and five sets of the bluest eyes staring up at her.
They were some munchkin–Scottish fold mix, four of them peaches and cream and the smallest one, a male, charcoal gray with a white dot on his muzzle. She picked up Dot—look at that, he already has a name—and cuddled him to her chest, gently inspecting his little body. He was tiny and shivering from the rain, his stomach was so sunken she could see his little ribs poking out, and he was covered in enough filth and neglect that it broke Shay’s heart.
“Oh, Peggy, who would do this?”
“I don’t know, honey, but it sure makes you rethink public shaming, doesn’t it? Time to bring back the stocks.”
It made Shay rethink a lot of things, namely how saving just a few here and there wasn’t enough anymore. There were so many animals that needed a champion in their corner—like Dot with his sad eyes and gentle spirit—and Shay wanted to be that champion. She just didn’t have the space.