Chapter Four Remi #2
I nodded briskly. “I can work with that. If opportunities for additional hours come up, I’m willing to work with you on more. But we have open hours for people to show up to check out the dogs on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays, so I don’t want you here then.”
Before he could say anything, the phone rang again, and I answered that too.
“Remi, it’s Cass. I’m almost out of food and pads.”
“Already?”
“Hungry litter. They’re sweet, though. I’ll have updated pictures to you by tomorrow.”
“Great. You thought of some names?”
“Yeah, my kids went for cartoon characters on this group. We’ve got Minnie, Mickey, Donald, and Goofy. They’re already campaigning to keep Goofy.”
I smiled. “You going to become a foster fail on me already?”
“No,” she said on a laugh. “They’ll be just as excited about the next batch of puppies.”
My relieved exhale was loud. “Good. It would be hard to replace you.”
“No need for that. Just another bag of food and a box of pads, and I’m a happy girl.”
I snatched a Post-it from the stack next to my computer and scrawled out what she needed. “I’ll drop some off on my way home from work. Thanks for letting me know.”
The call that came in right after that was a quote to repaint the outside of the building, and the number he gave me made me sick to my stomach. “Okay, thank you. I’m going to have to talk to our owner before I make that decision.”
When I hung up, I braced my elbows on the surface of my desk and speared my hands in my hair. Ness wanted to know what I was doing differently today? Having a complete and utter fucking meltdown, that’s what.
“I noticed the paint peeling when I was outside. The whole exterior needs to be redone or you’ll start having issues with the siding.”
I kept staring down at the desk. “Observant of you. I’m fresh out of gold stars, unfortunately.”
I was on a roll today, sailing past my own personal record of bitchy retorts. Archer was quiet for a second, probably wondering just how hellish I’d make his life for the remaining forty-seven hours.
“That’s not a bad estimate,” he said. Something about his voice left my lungs feeling tight, like someone was squeezing them with a fist. “Maybe some of the money I have to pay can go towards that.”
It took me a moment to gather my words. A long moment, with many internal pep talks about why it was bad to say swear words to men who were mandated by a judge to be here.
I looked up, and based on the way his eyes darted around my head, my hair probably looked insane, but I really didn’t give a shit.
“The money you’re paying will cover the repairs in the outdoor area.
The fence. The seating. The equipment. Every penny will go towards what was destroyed by the accident.
And once that’s done, we have a list of a dozen other things that need updated.
” I held his gaze, no matter how squirmy it made me.
“We have to work our asses off for every penny that comes in from donations.
We are constantly asking and asking and asking for more because we always need more.
But first we need food. We need to pay for medical care.
We need to pay the few employees we have.
We need puppy pads and flea shampoo and crates for our fosters.
I have an online wish list that will never come close to being filled.
“I wish the money you were giving could cover all that, Archer, I really do. But it doesn’t matter what I wish.
” My throat felt tight and achy, that familiar wave of anxiety crashing over my frame, just like it did every single day.
“I know that you don’t want to be here, and I really don’t want you here either.
I would have much rather taken a bigger check to pay for paint and a new roof and updated floors, and picked up the dog shit myself. ”
He studied my face so intently that I almost flinched, but instead held myself perfectly still.
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Should I? You’re the one who had some beers and accidentally destroyed private property. Tell me why I should cut you any slack at all.”
The chiseled features on his face were so hard to read, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that brain of his.
“Okay.”
I blinked. “Okay, what?”
He stood up, and I fought the urge to fidget under his perusal. “Don’t go easy on me, Red.”
I breathed out an incredulous laugh. “You think I’ll back down?”
His eyes were center-of-the-flame blue, and I hated them. I hated him. “I guess we’ll see. See you tomorrow, boss.”
My mouth hung open as he strode out of the building.
Ness sprinted back into my office the moment the door slammed closed. She skidded to a halt in the doorway. “What happened to your hair? Did you make out with him?”
“Ness,” I sighed. “No, of course not.”
“Looks like you did.” She came around my desk, wincing as she tried to smooth down the wild strands around my face. “This is how my hair looked after my no-sex make-out session with Christian last night.”
I swatted her hands away. “Muriel already told me how I handle this entire . . . situation will basically be the deciding factor if she lets me take over officially.”
“No making out, then,” Ness stated on a disappointed sigh. Her lips curved in a sly smile. “Can we still look, though? His ass is perfection.”
I smacked her arm as she laughed. “No. No looking at his ass.”
“You are no fun when you’re in boss mode. If we can’t even look, what are you going to do with him?”
Through the window in my office, I had the perfect vantage point as Archer crossed the parking lot with long strides of his legs.
Just before entering the truck—not some gleaming monster straight from the showroom, but something a few years old, dirt covering the bottom half—he paused, staring out into the tree line of the wooded area surrounding the shelter.
Did I believe him about the dog? I wasn’t sure.
The timeline matched up. We’d had sightings of Bandit, as I’d started calling him when he evaded every single live trap we’d set, for the last two weeks. Based on the state of his coat, he’d been on his own for longer than that.
If it were that simple—wet roads and an animal’s shadow—why wouldn’t he tell the press that?
The shelter didn’t have the budget for exterior cameras.
It was enough of a stretch to install them inside, but it was the easiest way to monitor the kennels after hours.
Our neighbors in the mini-mart across the street had them, but they’d been down for maintenance the night of the accident, so there was no way to prove or disprove his story.
The truth of it was, I didn’t want to believe him. My anger hadn’t quite dissipated. It still boiled dangerously close to the surface, seeing something I loved and had worked so hard for come within four feet of being damaged far, far worse.
Four feet. That was how close the car had been from the front edge of the kennel. To breaking down walls, to driving straight into the room with all the dogs.
Into Scout and Daisy and Edgar and Sherlock and Pip. Into the others too. It would have been devastating. If he’d hurt a person by veering in the other direction, it would have been even worse.
That was why it didn’t matter if I believed his story or not.
Because the consequences weren’t simple either. Not for us, and not for all the kids like Gavin who looked up to this guy because he was big and strong and could throw a ball down a field. They idolized him, and now they had a mug shot to add to the pictures on their walls.
Just because he hadn’t killed someone didn’t mean he should get off the hook easily. And yes, he had money to throw at the problem, but it wasn’t what the judge wanted.
The entire point was that this guy learned his lesson. And apparently, I was the one in charge of what lesson he learned. I thought about what I’d told Gavin when he was so upset about this. About not judging too quickly and not hating people we didn’t know.
The best part of adulting is the ability to ignore your own advice sometimes. Parents’ prerogative and all that.
I was judging. He was arrogant and rude and thought I’d roll over and make this easy on him because we’d had one stupid night where he managed to get his hand down my pants.
His judgment of me gave that embarrassment and shame an angry edge, and it was hard to recognize as it pumped through my body.
“Remi?”
I didn’t turn to face Ness. Instead, I kept my eyes on Archer as he slid into the driver’s seat of the big vehicle.
Damn it, he really did have a great ass.
“What am I going to do with him?” I asked.
“That is the question of the day.”
“I’m going to make him miserable.”