Chapter 22
U pon entering Perfect Paws, I am immediately overwhelmed by the smells and sounds of animals. The whining and barking from the kennels make my heart ache with the desire to take them all home. I wonder if I could sneak a few into the car.
After our trip to Belfast, I wasted no time putting my plan into action. A quick phone call and an even quicker face-to-face meeting with Anna, the manager at Perfect Paws, and I was set up with two five-hour shifts a week. Between that and spending time with Rene, Olivia, and Samantha, my days have been pleasantly packed. This is a blessing, considering Logan has been practically living in his office or away from the compound, looking stressed as all hell. If it weren’t for the girls and taking care of Rocky and Teddy, I’d be going insane with boredom by now.
"Abigail, I’m so glad to see you." Anna exhales as she rushes into the back room, her arms full of kittens. Taking two from her, I follow her to the back where all our other charges are.
"Busy morning?" I ask as we settle the four kittens into their luxurious kennel. The moment I saw how well-loved and cared for each and every stray here was, I knew this would be the perfect fit for me. Too often, animals are just thrown into a cold, steel cage and forgotten. But here, each kennel has all the soft furnishings, toys, and climbing frames these fur babies could need. Plus, there’s always at least one person in the back just spending time with all the animals.
"You can say that again. I swear, why people get animals just to abandon them, I will never understand. These four were left on our doorstep overnight in a cardboard box, not a blanket in sight. They are far too young to have left their mother, let alone could have frozen to death last night," Anna says, her frustration matching my own. The sheer number of animals I’ve seen come in here over the last couple of weeks should be criminal.
"At this rate, we’re going to run out of room," I murmur with a frown as I go about the morning feeding routine while she does a few checks on our new arrivals.
"You’re preaching to the choir, honey. If you come up with any genius ideas to stop that from happening, feel free to share with the class," she says before leaving me to it. As always, I debate just scooping up all these babies and taking them home with me.
I’m sure Logan would warm up to the idea eventually.
“What do you think, Rocky? What screams ‘it’s my fiftieth birthday but I want to pretend I’m still thirty’?” Sitting on the living room floor with fabric swatches laid beside me, I look over at Rocky, who deems my question worthy enough to lift his head from his paws and blink at me once sleepily before prancing out of the room.
To say I was unprepared for the amount of party planning requests that poured in after Logan’s birthday party is like saying it’s wet in Ireland. If it wasn’t for Peter lending me his eye for website design and business know-how, I don’t know what I would have done. Before I could even process it all, he had set up a website and a business banking account for me. All that was left to do was recruit the girls to help me, and voilà, my side hustle was ready to go. Hopefully, with enough good word of mouth, it’ll keep me busy enough that Logan’s absence doesn't sting as much.
“Tough crowd.” At his dark chuckle, I look up to see Logan leaning against the doorframe, looking every inch the sexy mafia boss. As much as I love seeing him in jeans and biker boots, something about seeing him in a fitted three-piece suit has me clenching my thighs against the sudden ache.
“I know right? However, will I pick out what fabric to use for Mrs Anderson’s birthday party with helpers like this?” My sarcasm draws a chuckle from him as he loosens his tie. The visual of his tattooed hands working the knot has no right being as sexy as it is.
“I don’t know what Rocky thinks, but personally, I vote for this one,” he says, pointing at a cream bit of fabric with lace detailing. He certainly has good taste.
“That’s the one I was leaning towards,” I say as he helps me to my feet, keeping his hands on my hips to steady me for a second before stepping back and smirking at me in a way that sends heat curling in my core and me fighting back the urge to claim his mouth as mine.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
“Not like I live here or anything,” he replies.
“You could have fooled me. I was starting to wonder if you’d ever come out of that office of yours.”
“Don't remind me; things are a mess at the moment,” he groans, rubbing a hand down his face as he takes a seat on the sofa, tugging me down beside him.
“Want to talk about it?” I ask as I pull his head down into my lap and start threading my fingers through his hair.
“That feels nice. Everything’s been a mess since I took over, but lately, things keep going wrong at every turn. Today, I found a bug in my office,” he growls, radiating enough frustration that it’s a wonder he’s not levitating items with the force of his glare.
“A bug?”
“Listening device. Someone’s been spying on me.”
“Shit, any idea how long it's been there? Or who could have planted it?”
“No clue. I know I checked the office yesterday morning before my meetings. But considering the only person I trust explicitly who’s been up there is Alex, that still leaves at least six suspects. Which is six too many if you ask me. Why I couldn’t just wipe the slate clean when I took over this shit hole, I’ll never understand.”
“That’s mafia politics for you, my dear husband. No matter how much power you have, there’s always someone with that little bit more making your life hell. As for your rat problem, you could always plant a trap. Tell them each something unique and see what trickles out, and bingo, there’s your rat,” I suggest, watching him as he gets up to pace in front of the fireplace, mulling over my suggestion.
“That’s not a bad idea actually.”
“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” I say as I toss a cushion at him for sounding so shocked, and with a chuckle, he catches it before coming back over to join me. Settling down beside me again, he tugs me into his side, and in a comfortable silence, we watch the fireplace as we mull over our own set of dilemmas.