Chapter 35
WREN
Big guy:
Did you get the clothes I dropped off this morning?
More importantly, what are you wearing, Bambi?
Theo:
Let us know if you need anything different. I tried to make sure there were a variety of items and fabrics to choose which you prefer.
Big guy:
I swear to god, if you snuck a pair of old man, tighty-whities in that bag…
My phone pings with a new group chat I’ve been added to. A massive smile takes over as I read the messages arriving.
Me:
Very incognito mode, big guy. Got them, thank you for going to all the trouble.
Nikita and Gabbie had nearly peed themselves with laughter watching his massive figure jog up to the front doorstep dressed in a plain black hoodie, cap, and sunglasses at seven a.m.
Part of me was expecting him to knock on the door, insisting on coming in for coffee, but he played by the rules. Connor dropped off the bag of clothing—covered in their scents as planned—before disappearing as fast as he arrived.
Their texts keep coming and I read them with a smile I’m trying less and less to fight as time goes on.
Big guy:
So? What is my sweet little Omega wearing?
Theo:
Pretty sure you’re supposed to be at training, not annoying our girl.
I’ve got Coach on speed-dial, you know.
Big guy:
Aw, cute, old man. No one calls it that anymore.
Bambi, we’re gonna have to help him learn technology.
Theo:
You’ll be learning how to call your agent and explain to them the reason why you don’t have a job anymore.
Big guy:
Pop your reading glasses on, you’ll see we’re doing community outreach today. I’m cooking soup and dropping off meals.
Hope you don’t mind the smell of pumpkin, because one look at the pile of this shit I’ve gotta chop, it’s gonna be embedded in my pores.
Me:
I’ll make sure to have a pumpkin spice latte, and then we can have one big pumpkin party.
Big guy:
Gotta make sure the party ends before midnight, otherwise Brennan will turn into a pumpkin.
Pretty sure he pops his dentures out and is in bed by six p.m.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Theo:
We could get the fire pit going tonight. Ceremonially cremate your contract. How does that sound, Renfro?
I heard Alaska is scouting for a utility back.
Me:
Ok, you boys play nicely. I’ve gotta go impress my placement.
Big guy:
You still haven’t told me what it’s for… “marketing” is purposely vague.
Me:
You think I’d tell you where I’m gonna be today? You’ll probably turn up, stalker.
Theo:
Good luck. (Drop me the address pin separately)
Big guy:
*watery eye emojis* UNFAIR.
I smirk to myself as I send Theo a private text with the location pin, and he hearts the message immediately.
Theo:
Text me if you need anything at all. I’m working from home today.
And you’ll be incredible, Wren.
Big guy:
They’re gonna be head over heels for you the minute you walk in.
Just remember, I was head over heels for you first.
Well, if that isn’t one way to walk into a new place, feeling like you’re floating. After reading their sweet messages, I send a quick check-in to the girls to let them know I made it to the dog shelter safely, before shoving my phone into the pocket of my leggings.
I certainly did not want to admit to either of them that I am, in fact, wearing both of their clothes.
I’ve got one of Theo’s T-shirts on, and Connor’s giant Wolves rugby hoodie over the top.
Having both of their scents against my skin has done exactly as they said it would.
It’s like all the noise going on in the background, those jittery, unsettled feelings, have seeped away, leaving only a serene sensation in their wake.
I’m the Omega equivalent of a hammock swinging lazily in the breeze under a shady tree.
As I push open the door, a wave of new smells hits me. Fur, dog biscuits, and a light tinge of disinfectant. There’s also the noise, with sounds of playful barking coming from beyond the back of this small reception area.
Behind the counter, a tiny woman with gray hair tucked under a beanie waves at me. An Omega. Immediately, my smile brightens.
“Hi, I’m Wren Murphy. Here about the WFU scholarship placement.”
“Lovely to meet you, dear.” She slaps a clipboard onto the counter, just as her phone starts ringing.
With a quick sigh, she answers it at the same time as beckoning me closer, tapping the form with a pen for me to fill out.
“Hold on for a moment, would you, Tim?” Covering one hand over the receiver, she gives me an apologetic look.
“It’s fine, I know you’re busy. Take your time.”
She holds up a finger. “I’ll be right with you. Today is…”
“One of those days,” I supply.
“I’m Linda. We were emailing the other day. Give me two minutes to sort this out,” she whispers, then dives back into the phone call. As I fill out my contact details as a new volunteer, they’re evidently discussing a bulk order donation of new collars, blankets, and beds.
More enthusiastic yipping echoes through from the doors behind her as she taps something on the antiquated computer, the keyboard clacking loudly.
“… I know. It never rains, but it pours. Of course, Coco wants to do it today.” She chuckles.
“Although you know any opportunity to get the pooches in the news is a win.” Tucking the phone against her ear, she sees that I’ve finished filling everything out and gives me a thumbs up.
“Tim, I would rather try to trim Oreo’s paws in a hurricane than get in front of a camera.
But I think I have just the solution, walked in the door. ”
Oh god, the smile she’s giving me leaves my palms a little clammy.
I’m not the solution to anything. I’m just a twenty-three-year-old, here to hopefully provide some useful assistance with some marketing for their next fundraiser.
Linda ends her phone call, tossing out some rapid-fire instructions about a bulk dog food delivery, and then fixes me with a look. “Well then…” While puffing out her cheeks, she rests one hand on each hip. “Welcome to the Waggers trademark chaos, Wren Murphy.”
“Is it like this every day?”
“Pretty much. Today has some added sprinkles thrown in, mind you. I thought our best starting point would be to give you a taste of a day in the life of how things run here at Wagging Tails, Willow Falls, and then we can go from there with your fancy promotion ideas.”
“Sounds good to me.”
She pushes through the heavy door, and all those noises and smells intensify as we walk into an outdoor enclosure.
There are kennels and spacious runs along both sides, all with their own individual way to get out into the large yard.
A grassy field surrounded by high fencing, full of a dozen or more furry bodies racing around.
At the far end is another heavy metal door leading out directly to where the dogs are playing in the crisp winter air.
“This is where we can house up to twenty dogs, or slightly more if there are any who come to us preferring to share a kennel.” Linda waves a hand as she walks ahead of me.
“We’ve got smaller temporary kennels around the back for our quieter, more nervous ones.
And anyone who is going to be fostered instead of staying here. ”
“A busy place.” I smile. The love for these animals is evident in her body language. Even though she’s clearly juggling a lot, it looks like this woman would much prefer to be out here all day, rather than taking phone calls and discussing logistics.
“I’ve got a wonderful group of people who help, between donating their time or fostering dogs until they find their forever homes. Here, you can meet one of our regular volunteers.”
We approach the end of the enclosure, and a familiar set of broad shoulders straightens up to his full height.
My breath catches as those hazel eyes of his drill darkly into mine.
He’s larger than life, towering over my short stature, just like the day when he opened Finch’s front door unexpectedly.
Atlas stares right back at me.
And he looks pissed.