Chapter 17
Obsession
The sharp smell of disinfectant struck Sam the instant they walked into the shelter.
Angie was greeted by several staff members manning the front desk, and they all seemed happy to see her.
Chatting and smiling, she signed in and introduced Sam.
This Angie was a different woman from the one who’d been browbeating him during PT.
Okay, “browbeating” was a slight exaggeration, but she’d been tough on him—especially in the beginning—and her imitation of the ice machine she liked to hook him up to had fed into his perception of her as a cold hard-ass.
Then again, he’d probably deserved it. He hadn’t exactly been warm and fuzzy either.
But this version of her was softer, more approachable, intriguing even—like the girl he used to know.
He hoped the side of Angie he was witnessing now was the flip side of the tigress she’d been in bed last night—unlike the hesitant girl he’d bedded years ago.
Not that he’d minded that version of her, but last night’s variation?
Holy hell! Sign him up and wrap a bow around him.
Her easygoing banter with the women rocketed him back to her side. “Go easy on him,” she joked. “This is his first day, and we don’t want to scare him away.”
“God, no,” one of the staffers laughed. “We need all the help we can get!”
Angie led Sam down a hallway to a smaller counter, where a different woman sat. Her gaze moved between them before settling on Angie. A knowing grin split her face. “Looks like someone’s day has started on the sunny side.”
A blush bloomed on Angie’s cheeks. “Reporting for duty.”
“And am I ever happy to see you!”
“Short-staffed again?”
The woman rolled her eyes behind a pair of black-framed glasses. “When are we never not short-staffed?”
“Isn’t that the sad truth? Dora, this is Sam Durbin. He’s a friend of mine, and he’s here to help today.” Angie turned to Sam. “Dora is the shelter’s volunteer coordinator.”
Dora stood and shook his hand. “Thank you for coming, Sam. You drew the long straw today. Angie’s one of the best and definitely our favorite volunteer.
She’s also the favorite with the animals.
” Dora jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, directing Sam’s attention to the wall behind her.
A line of pictures went from one end to the other, with Angie’s smiling face on the far left.
A grin sprouting, Sam pointed at the image. “What does the gold ribbon mean?”
Dora turned partway and studied the picture.
“Besides Angie being pure gold? She’s logged over five hundred volunteer hours.
She’s one of our most dedicated volunteers.
And the paw print is for Volunteer of the Month.
” Dora leaned over the counter and placed her hand next to her mouth in a conspiratorial gesture, whisper-shouting, “That paw print is almost always in that same spot.”
Sam side-eyed Angie, whose face had turned a bright shade of crimson. She squirmed in place, clearly uncomfortable with being in the spotlight. Damn, she was cute. He corralled a laugh.
Unsurprisingly, Angie directed the conversation elsewhere. “Where do you want us to start, Dora?”
Dora looked down at a clipboard. “Looks like the cat house is the most urgent today.”
“The usual?”
Dora nodded. “Yep.”
While the women exchanged details, Sam’s gaze drifted back to Angie’s picture, and he found himself mesmerized by the sheer joy that shone through in her features. What would it take for him to put a look like that on her face every day?
He felt a tug on the sleeve of his hoodie, and Angie jerked her head to the side. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
She swiped two folded pieces of fabric from a bin labeled “Volunteer Aprons,” and led him to a row of cubbies. “You can leave your hoodie here, if you like.”
“I’ll leave it on for now.”
“You sure? It’ll be covered in animal hair when we’re done. Not to mention you’ll work up a sweat.”
“As long as I’m working up a sweat with you …” he dangled. The bright hue returned to her cheeks, egging him on. He couldn’t stop himself. “It might be my new favorite thing to do.”
“More than hockey?” she tossed back.
“It’s a distinct possibility.” He wasn’t making it up.
He rocked back on his heels, pretending to contemplate.
“Think I’m going to need a repeat for comparison’s sake.
Several repeats.” She arched an eyebrow, and he amended.
“I’ve played a lot of hockey over the years.
If I’m going to give this comparison the justice it deserves, I’ll need a boatload of data. Or is that a bedload?”
Her mouth dropped open and closed, and he restrained an urge to lean down and kiss her plush pink lips.
While he wrestled with himself, she recovered her unruffled demeanor.
Stashing her purse, she pulled her own sweatshirt over her head, revealing a gray T-shirt with the shelter’s name printed on it.
Her ponytail had come loose, and she re-tied it while he stood and watched, captive to the movement of her graceful hands.
She unfolded one of the aprons she’d taken from the bin, shook it out, and dropped it over her head. Moving her ponytail aside, she turned her back to him. “Would you do the honors?”
He tugged on the ties, pulling her against him, and leaned down to her ear. The fresh scent of her shampoo filled his senses, and he snaked his hands under the hem of her T-shirt, his fingers stroking the velvety skin of her belly. “Exactly what honors do you want me to do? I can think of a few.”
“Sam!” she hissed, but her tone was light and playful as she wriggled away. She yanked on the ties, but he held them fast, pulling the apron straps down her arms.
“Wonder what this would look like on you without the T-shirt underneath—or anything else, for that matter.” An array of pleasant images scrolled through his mind, ramping up the action in his pants.
“This isn’t the time or place,” she gritted out, though one corner of her mouth twitched.
“Then when is?” he prodded.
She gave the ties another yank, freeing one of them. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”
“Okay, okay,” he laughed and made a twirling motion with his forefinger. “Turn around. I got you.”
He tied a sloppy bow and, unable to resist, squeezed her hips and drew her against him. He wanted her to feel how being close to her affected him.
“Sam!” she squeaked.
“What?” he said in his most innocent voice. “I just wanted to be sure I got it on right.” If he’d had his way, not only would she still be smashed against him, but other parts would be grinding together right now. “Besides, I want you to know that you’re making this hard on me.”
“You’re making it hard on yourself.” After tying on his apron—minus the extracurricular fun, damn it—she led him into a room where cages lined one wall.
Several cats meowed, their noses pressed against the metal grids.
Angie stuck her fingers in the mesh and wiggled them, and the friendlier cats rubbed against them.
“We have some shy ones over here.” She pointed to several cages where the animals hunkered at the back. “I like to take them out and try to make them comfortable. The more we can socialize them, the easier they are to adopt out.”
She coaxed a small white one with green eyes from the back of its cage, cuddling it close. A tiny but insistent noise came from a different cage, and Sam turned to see a gray tabby kitten with its pink mouth yawning open as it emitted a high-pitched cry.
“That guy doesn’t look like he needs socializing. He’s screaming, ‘Pay attention to me, damn it!’”
“Go ahead and pull him out,” Angie encouraged.
When Sam opened the cage door, the ball of fuzz bolted, climbing his arm to his shoulder. “Ouch! Shit! His claws are like tiny razors.”
Angie laughed.
“Yeah, go ahead and laugh, you sadist. You set me up because you enjoy seeing me torn to shreds,” he groused.
The little guy tried to climb Sam’s head, and he dislodged him, losing a piece of scalp in the process.
He lifted the kitten in front of him, limbs dangling and fuzzy white belly sticking out like an old guy’s paunch.
The thing mewed again, all pink tongue and tiny white barbs for teeth.
“How about I pass this tiny terror to you?”
She pointed to the bundle in her arms. “Can’t. You’ll have to manage. Anyway, I think he’s already attached to you.”
“He’s attached all right.” Sam placed the kitten on the floor, and Mr. Claws executed somersaults while he bit his own tail.
Suppressing a laugh of his own, Sam pulled his camera from the back pocket of his jeans and took a quick video as the kitten hopped to its feet and trotted toward him.
Soon only pale pink nose and whiskers filled the frame while the cat investigated the camera.
When Angie giggled, Sam pointed the camera in her direction and filmed, then switched to still photos, catching her gorgeous smile in frame after frame. Mr. Claws found the perfect perch on Sam’s shoulder and purred loudly in his ear before settling in to sleep.
Sam craned his head. “Seriously, dude?”
“See? He’s comfortable with you. He likes you.” Angie straightened the white cat’s cage and refreshed its water before placing it back inside. She moved to another cage and went through the same steps with a scrawny black cat. Sam shot more pictures, capturing the animal’s bright amber eyes.