Need You for Keeps (Heroes of St. Helena, #1)(4)
Cuties with Booties had gone viral in a matter of days, helping Shay place nine pets with their forever families and raising enough donations to help offset spaying and neutering costs for another dozen. It also made local stars out of the men brave enough to pose and the animals who’d captured the town’s hearts. The women of St. Helena had even started up a fan club, Booty Patrol, printing off the photos of the pets—and men—and asking for their paw prints.
This year Shay had bigger dreams, and with the blog’s success putting her on the map as the patron saint of St. Helena’s strays, she regularly received calls from people needing help finding an animal a good home or from the local shelter when its facility was maxed out.
But it seemed that for every one she placed, another two would appear on her doorstep, and her heart had already outgrown her house. Not to mention her checkbook.
Every life counts, she reminded herself, which was why turning away a stray broke her heart, so she was determined to find a way to place more pets. Her current goal was twelve animals over the next twelve months. With Bark in the Park right around the corner, Shay was certain she’d place the four foster dogs currently residing in her home by the end of the summer. The seasonal doggie roundup acted as a place where locals could socialize their four-legged kids and would allow Shay to introduce potential families to her dogs. Dogs that, when adopted, would provide her the extra space she needed to foster more pets. Only more fosters meant more vet bills, more food, and more money.
Money Shay didn’t have access to.
But she did have access to the most adorable and adoptable pets on the planet. And together with some of St. Helena’s finest first responders, wearing not much more than their work pants and a smile, she’d hoped that the Eighteen Months of Cuties with Booties calendar would raise enough to cover the costs of twelve animals.
Shay turned to her friends. “Peggy is being super supportive.” Peggy wasn’t just her landlord, she was also the owner of Paws and Claws Day Spa, which made her Shay’s boss. “She even offered to let me have a few calendar signings at her shop, including one with Warren and then a big meet-and-greet with the cuties the weekend after Bark in the Park. A ‘men behind the dogs’ kind of signing, where we sell all kinds of autographed calendars and swag. I already have several of the guys from the calendar lined up to do signings with their featured pet.”
Shay smiled at the long line of women that wound through the park to the steps of town hall, all waiting to get their hands on the anticipated calendar.
Cuties with Booties was going to make her dream a reality. She just knew it. Helping those otherwise overlooked souls was something Shay not only understood, it was what drove her. Everyone loved kittens and puppies. Who wouldn’t? Not many looked twice at a sweet older dog with bad vision and gas problems. Once they reached a certain age, their likelihood for placement dropped dramatically, and during puppy and kitten season the chances of placement were slim at best.
“With that many hot dawgs in one place, every lady in town will show up with their pens. And checkbooks,” Harper said, handing a calendar to the next customer—followed closely by a Salty Chihuahua. “I bet your applications will go through the roof.”
That was the plan. “Then I just have to come up with the money to cover the cost of the new fosters.”
“The number of people willing to stand in the heat and plunk down a cool twenty for a calendar tells me that St. Paws will have enough to take care of as many fosters as you can handle.”
Emerson was right. With this kind of crowd, she would be able to afford more fosters than she’d originally thought.
“Who’s next?” Shay ushered the next customer forward.
To her surprise the next customer was neither a soccer mom nor an old biddy. A three-foot-tall girl with freckles and a mess of wild blonde curls flying every which way peeked over the edge of the table. She was maybe six, beanpole thin, wearing a faded sundress that was on the wrong side of vintage, and holding a beach bag that was twice her size.
“Well, hello,” Shay said when the girl just looked her at her with serious, assessing brown eyes. Shay glanced around to see who she was with, because surely the girl was too young to be there alone. But no one seemed to step up to the table to join her.
Shay shot Harper a questioning look. Harper managed the Fashion Flower, the only kids’ clothing boutique in town, which meant she knew just about every munchkin between two and twelve. Harper just shrugged.
Hoping a parent was nearby, Shay leaned forward, getting to eye level. “Are you here to pick up a calendar for someone?”
Goldilocks shook her head, her gaze dropping to the dog at Shay’s feet. She reached out a tentative hand, pausing briefly. “Is it all right if I pet your dog?”
“He’s not mine.” Not anymore, she thought, ignoring the ping of sadness that always surfaced when one of her lost ones found their forever home.
Just that morning, before the signing started, a young family had come specifically to meet Tripod and fallen in love. The feeling was mutual. They lived in a one-story home, which was a must with only three legs, and had an autistic daughter who would benefit from Tripod’s calm and loving demeanor. It was the perfect match for everyone involved.
“Tripod goes to his new family next week, but he’s friendly and loves belly rubs.”
On cue, Tripod, the star of today and an attention-lover, rolled over to expose his soft underbelly.