Chapter 17 #2
Thirty minutes later, with Mr. Claws still sawing logs on his shoulder, Sam had an entire collection of mug shots of every single feline in the cat house.
Angie sat beside him on the floor, head resting against his unoccupied shoulder in an intimate way that warmed him all over, oohing and aahing as he scrolled through the images.
He stopped swiping when he got to the many shots he’d taken of her.
He was already acting like a doofus around her.
The pictures of her nearly outnumbered the others combined.
He didn’t need to reveal this new and sudden obsession blooming inside of him.
He’d never acted like this with any other woman in his life.
Then again, the word “obsession” had never popped into his head before either unless it was about hockey.
When time came to start the next chore, Sam reluctantly lifted Mr. Claws off his shoulder.
Not only did he miss the warmth of Angie settled against him, but he missed the goofy kitten that had literally attached itself to him.
The little gray tabby protested when Angie placed him back in his cage.
He gave Sam pitiful eyes through the wire squares.
Damn!
Sam held the door for Angie as they exited the cat house. “Cats are pretty maintenance-free, right?”
“They need less hands-on than dogs, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What’s it take to adopt one?”
Angie stopped in the sterile hallway and peered up at him.
“There are some forms to fill out, and you pay an adoption fee. But there are supplies you’ll need, and you’ll want to do some animal-proofing before you bring an animal home.
” She paused, wrinkling her nose. “You’re not considering adopting that kitten, are you? ”
For reasons unclear to Sam, the question stung. Did she think he’d be a bad pet parent? “Well, no. Hockey always comes first. Pets, like relationships, are distractions. But why not?”
“Well, for one, it’s a kitten, so it’s going to need more attention than a full-grown cat.
And for another, you’re on the road a lot, which means even if you have someone come in and feed it, water it, and clean its litter box, the kitty will be alone most of the time, which isn’t fair.
You just said it yourself: Hockey comes first.”
“I’m not on the road now, and I’ll be around all summer,” he reasoned. And did hockey always have to come first?
“Yes, but will you be living here or in Loveland? And for how long? And what if you have to move to Canada?” What she meant, of course, was, “What if you’re traded?”
Ouch. But she was right.
“Okay. So let’s say I do move out of the country. What happens then?”
“You have some hoops to jump through, and each country’s hoops vary.
You’re facing getting the right documentation for health checks and proof of vaccinations, at the very least. Flying a cat to a different country could be very stressful on the animal, especially if the destination is far away, and some places will require quarantine for some period. ”
Well, shit. He hadn’t seriously been considering adopting Mr. Claws, but still, the reality left him a little deflated. “It was just a what-if,” he muttered. “How come you don’t adopt a pet?”
“Can’t, according to my lease.”
“But you’d like to.”
“I would love to.”
Angie’s nurturing nature would make her a great pet parent.
Dora appeared in the hallway. “How did it go?” Her eyes strayed to Sam. “Did you get to meet some of our cats?”
“He did, and you should see the pictures he took,” Angie gushed.
Soon he was flanked by both women as he flipped through the images once more.
Dora looked up at him, her smile wide. “Sam, these are wonderful! Do you think we could use them?”
“Sure?” Puzzled, his answer came out in the form of a question.
“We would put them up on our website so people interested in adoption can see them,” she explained. “They’d make great marketing material.”
He hadn’t considered that, and the thought that he’d done some small thing that could help the shelter lifted his spirits. “Of course, if you think it’ll help you get some of these animals into homes, then you can have them all.” Except the ones of Angie.
“Great! Stop by before you go, and I’ll get you an email address where you can send a link.”
When Dora left them alone, Angie swung her big blues up to him. The admiration in those eyes made him feel taller than the hallway’s ten-foot ceilings. Hints of the joy she’d radiated in the pictures danced alongside it.
He would do almost anything to see that look again and again.
They stayed beyond Angie’s shift, but Sam never felt a pull to leave. As Angie had predicted, his black hoodie—and jeans—were covered in animal hair and slobber, but he didn’t give a goddamn. As they drove away, an idea sprouted.
“The team is always doing events in the community for PR. What would you think if I talked to them about doing something for the shelter? We have this dynamite PR lady, and I could ask her if maybe we could get some of the players to be there. A lot of the guys have pets, and I bet they’d be willing to help.
We could build up some excitement, get some attention for the shelter. ”
She bounced in her seat. “I love that idea. Could you, Sam? It would mean so much.”
God, he loved seeing this side of her. Loved that he got to see it.
This Angie, the empathetic one with a heart that overflowed with so much care it floored him, was the one he wanted to be close to.
The efficient one wasn’t so bad either. He liked that she was competent, that she was smart, that she was a pro who knew her stuff.
He thought back to what Toby had first said about her—that she had a mean streak and she hurt people on purpose.
Toby was an idiot.
Angie didn’t hurt you. She pushed you, and that might hurt, but her sole motivation was to get you better as quickly as possible without cutting corners.
Sam understood that now, and it lined up with what he knew about Angie from their younger years.
She was compassionate and caring. She also had a tender heart she protected with a bristly exterior—for self-preservation.
Now that he’d breached those walls, her gooey center was exposed, and he wanted to lap it up.
Take everything she had and hoard it. No, that wasn’t right.
Yes, he wanted to take, take, take, but there was a twist he’d never experienced before: He wanted to return it to her tenfold—on a silver platter.
What was happening to him?