Chapter 4
Katie
“Hello, my babies!”
The next day after work, I was in agony. Mandie warned me that the real pain would start the next day, and she wasn’t wrong. I was waddling down the aisle between the dog cages, every single pup there barking or wagging their tail as I passed, trying to get my attention. I’d spend time with each one of them, but first…
“How’s my boy!”
I needed to get Bronson out of the shelter somehow. I shared an apartment with my sister and the owner had made clear that bringing a massive pit bull cross was not going to happen, so I needed another solution, fast. Some dogs cope with being in a shelter, but some… In a noisy, crowded, unfamiliar environment, they close in on themselves, going into a depression-like spiral. Bronson barely looked up when I appeared at his cage, a little wag of his tail the only indication he heard me.
“Hey, fella.” I unlocked the door and then moved in slowly. “Hey…”
A quick sniff and he realised who it was. He scrambled to his feet and then ran into my arms as I crouched down. I didn’t even feel the pain of my protesting muscles as those frantic little whimpers started up. They killed me every time. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, giving him scratches on his stomach, then fondled his ears as I pulled back.
“I came back. I always come back, boy.” His muzzle nudged at my hand, demanding more pats. “So, how about a walk?”
The shelter staff loved it when I came to volunteer. Some of them were scared by Bronson, others found it hard to get him to respond. He’d just stay curled up in the back of his cage, unable to be drawn.
“It’s such a pity you can’t adopt him,” Marg, the shelter manager, had said.
I might not be able to, but I could get him out for a walk.
He was such a good dog, his tail smacking the floor rapidly as I produced the collar and lead. If I could just get someone to see what an amazing dog he was, then at least I could get him out of the shelter environment. I slid the collar over his head, then attached the lead and headed for the cage door.
“Hey, do you…?”
That masculine voice had Bronson planting his feet, not willing to take another step, and I held back a curse as I looked up.
Oh. My. Lanta.
What the hell was it with hot guys right now? It was like the universe had heard my resolution to keep the hell away from men and was throwing them in my path to tempt me. The guy had thick brown hair, deep brown eyes, was dressed in medical scrubs, and I needed to look the hell away and stop staring.
“Hey,” I said, just breathing that out.
Great, just great.
“Ah… hey.” That smile was a killer and those damn dimples. I shook my head as his bicep popped when he went to scratch at his neck. “I’m Garrett, and you are?”
“Oh god.” I slapped my forehead with my spare hand. “I’m Katie and this is Bronson. Say hello, Bronson.”
The dog looked at me and then the strange man, a natural wariness keeping him where he was. His feet shifted restlessly, but I led by example, stepping forward to greet the man. That seemed to be enough to convince Bronson that Garrett was OK to approach. The dog stumped forward, tail wagging nervously.
“Hello, big fella.” I watched the man go down to his knees, somehow knowing that would be less threatening to the dog, and that had Bronson feeling more confident immediately. All the sounds of the dogs barking frantically around me seemed to fade away the moment the two of them connected. Garrett’s hand went under the dog’s neck, scratching at his chest, which had Bronson’s back leg starting to kick. “You like that?”
“He does.” I could barely keep the awe out of my voice, and while I knew I was staring openly at the hot stranger in medical scrubs, I didn’t care. “He doesn’t do that for very many people, especially men. He was…”
Keep your cool , I thought furiously. Do not mess this up. No one connects with Bronson. This might be his opportunity to find a forever home.
I felt a wrench in my chest at the idea of never seeing the dog again, but that’s what shelters were about. Dogs were social creatures. Being locked in a cage drove them literally crazy, so finding good homes with people that loved them was all part of the job, but knowing that didn’t stop it from hurting.
“Someone hurt him,” Garrett said, his smile fading. His fingers followed the path of the old scars all across the dog’s body. “A lot.” He pulled back slightly to look Bronson over, but the dog had other ideas. I let out a little gasp as his front legs climbed onto Garrett’s legs. He was straining against the leash, wanting more pats, and I blinked fast to stop the tears from forming. “What kind of prick would do something like that?”
“Dog fighting rings.” His eyebrows shot up as he stared at me. “Bronson wasn’t used to fight. We think they saw his size and breed and thought they had a fighter, but when his true nature revealed itself?—”
“Shit.” He barely breathed that out. “Shit.” It was as if he could see the story behind each scar, and that had his frown deepening. “So, does he have anyone interested in him?”
“No.” I sucked in a breath, then another. Some of the dogs here were dumped, some surrendered as their owner’s circumstances changed, but it was dogs like Bronson that broke my heart. “He actually finds it really hard to warm up to people. When prospective adopters come past his cage, they see this massive scarred pit bull and either think he’ll be some big tough guard dog or that he’s too scary to consider.”
“Scary?” His expression softened as Bronson pushed his head into the man’s chest. “Not you, fella.” Bronson nearly knocked me out with his tail as it began to wag furiously, those little excited whimpers going again. “No, you’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Garrett sat back on his heels with a rueful smile. “I came here to adopt a cat.”
“Oh…” My face fell, and that was completely unprofessional, but right now I couldn’t seem to stop myself. For a minute, I thought… I shook my head and plastered on a smile, and Garrett caught every single shift in my expression. There was a strange kind of quiet focus about him. “Right, so the cats are through that door.”
I pointed to where he needed to go, but instead he just focussed on me.
“But I think my plans have changed.” He held my gaze for far too long, making me feel squirmier by the second. I could keep my cool around guys usually, but regarding the dogs? I wanted to hard sell every single one of them to prospective adopters, even though I knew that was madness. Not everyone who thought they wanted to adopt a dog should. “How do I apply to adopt this guy?”
“I…” My heart was beating too hard, too fast, in my chest. Surely, he could hear every single thud. “Did you want to hold his lead for a second? I’ll go get the application form.”
I had to stop myself from thrusting the lead at the man and that meant catching the moment those long, elegant fingers wrapped around the nylon rope.
“Yeah, I think Bronson and I need to have a bit of a chat.” He sat down on the ground and the dog rushed at him, almost clambering into his lap. “Alright, mate. It’s OK. I’m not going anywhere.”
The two of them looked like a match made in heaven, the dog flumping down on Garrett’s legs.
“God, we should get you to model for the calendar we do each year.” Shit, I just blurted that out as I got to my feet. “I mean we get models… guys… people! They have their photo taken with the animals and… You know what.” I shot him a shaky smile. “I’ll just go and get that application form for you.”
“Oh my god, did you see the hottie in the scrubs?” Joanne, one of the shelter workers, hissed as I walked into the office. “He can adopt me and he won’t even have to do a background check.”
“I didn’t notice,” I said, in a tone of voice that made clear the exact opposite had happened. Sigh… “Speaking of adoptions, where are the dog application forms?”
“He wants a dog?” she asked. “He said he wanted a cat.”
“Bronson,” I replied, looking up from the mess of Marg’s desk. “He wants to adopt Bronson.”
“Holy shit, really?” Jo looked ecstatic for a second, then her face fell. “Crap, but you really bonded with him. I mean?—”
“The job means finding dogs a home. If Garrett?—”
“Ooh, the hottie’s name is Garrett?” she said. “Noted. Did you get his birth date, zodiac sign, maybe his favourite sexual position?”
“What?” Why the hell did I see the way his thick thighs stretched the fabric of his scrubs right then? “No, god?—”
“Pity.” She plucked a form from one of the piles, somehow producing exactly what I needed. “But right now, you could get his phone number.”
“We can only use that to contact him whether or not he’s successful in his application,” I said, looking blankly at the form.
“After we do a home visit. I’ll let Marg know I am ready and able to assist when that comes up,” she said, rubbing her hands together.
“OK.” I shook my head with a smile. “But remember the appropriate conduct seminar we all had to sit through?”
“It’s only inappropriate if he’s not into it,” she called out as I walked back into the kennel, but what I saw there stopped me in my tracks.
“I think he likes me,” Garrett said, because Bronson was half asleep on his lap. “Does he normally do this?”
“No.” I crouched down in front of them and ran a hand down the dog’s flanks. “I know it looks like he’s super lazy, but this… He’s relaxed.” I turned to smile at him. “I think Bronson really likes you….”
Jo had ruined this for me. All of her stupid suggestive bullshit had my words twisting in my head, staring at the gorgeous man. No matter what my brain thought, my eyes were determined to track the shape of his nose, noting the small bump at bridge, the sharp cheekbones that then descended down to a full pair of lips that were slowly curving into a smile.
“I like him a lot too,” Garrett said.
But his caress now was almost absentminded as he rumpled the dog’s ear.
“OK, well, if you fill out this form, we can start the process. We need some references, a phone number?—”
“I’d love to give you my number.”
I swallowed hard, keeping my eyes on the application form.
“And an address. Marg or one of the other staff will do a property visit to make sure your place is a safe place for a dog to live.”
“Not you?” he asked, leaning a little closer.
What the hell was this? My eyes narrowed slightly as I looked him over. I wasn’t seeing the hot guy right now, but a prospective owner for Bronson. While never that discriminate when it came to picking guys for myself, this dog deserved more than just to have some guy take him in for LOLs and then ignore Bronson once the new puppy thing wore off.
“Not often.” I forced myself to smile to soften my now frosty tone. “I’m a volunteer, so I normally just walk the dogs, clean out cages, and that sort of thing, but all the staff here are awesome. Thorough, but awesome. If you pass the inspection and your place looks like it’s suitable for a dog like Bronson, they’ll approve your application.”
“Right.” Was that a faint blush colouring his cheeks? I didn’t know because Garrett seemed to recover himself quickly. “So what do I need to know about passing an inspection?” he asked. “We have a decent yard that’s fenced off.”
The we had me softening. It wasn’t hard to imagine Garrett with a wife and a couple of kids, each one cuter than the last. The idea of Bronson becoming a treasured family pet warmed my heart, helping set me at ease, though… Why was Garrett getting flirty if he had a partner? I shook my head. That was none of my business, but Bronson was.
“It’s not a test you need to have the right answers for,” I replied, and then handed the piece of paper over. “It’s kind of like dating.” His eyes widened slightly. “I mean, we want to find the right home for the dogs we look after here.” I looked down the cage at each one of the dogs in turn. “What you need, what the dog needs, it might not be the same thing.” The kennel faded away and was replaced by something else. A terse discussion held in my car the night of the fire station Christmas party. “It’s not that you’re a bad person, or he’s a bad dog. Sometimes people just need different things.” I blinked, catching Garrett watching me closely. “Y’know?”
He nodded slowly, and was that a little sadness there in those brown depths? If it was, he blinked it away in seconds.
“OK, so include all my details… and my housemates?”
He seemed surprised by that.
“Have to make sure everyone that’s around the dog isn’t going to hurt him any further.” At that, I did something really impulsive. I pulled a pen from my pocket and then scribbled my phone number on the top of the application. “Look, I think you’re the right person to adopt Bronson, so if you have any questions, feel free to send me a text.”
At that, I got to my feet, trying really hard not to wince. I had muscles I didn’t even know I possessed complaining about the movement, but I stifled back a hiss, reclaiming Bronson’s leash.
“But me and this gorgeous boy need to get a walk in before the shelter closes for the day.”
Bronson was a little reluctant to come with me, but he got the idea quickly enough. I might not be a hot guy in scrubs, but I was going to break him out of doggie jail, make sure he felt the sun on his fur and the wind in his face, and that was almost as good. I turned and shot Garrett one last look as we went out the back door of the dog kennels, catching the moment he was hunched over the application, filling it in while sitting on the concrete floor.
“Doctor Hottie filled out the application for Bronson,” Jo told me when we returned from the walk. “He tore off the top margin, though.” She held it out to show me. “Any idea why?”
I saw the spot where my number had been written was removed entirely, but I just shook my head.
“No idea.”
It didn’t matter, none of it did except the dogs. I gave Bronson one last big pat before putting him back in his cage, trying not to see his distraught expression, before moving to the next cage and the next, grabbing those dogs to take out for a walk.