Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Tate glanced at his watch every few seconds as he crossed the short distance from the elevators to his car in the parking garage.
Work had tied him up far longer than he’d planned, with ‘just one more’ phone call and email rolling in, one after another, until he had less than fifteen minutes to be at the shelter.
Tate had given himself enough time to get there half an hour before the video guy who was shooting animal footage, and now he was worried it might not have been enough.
He’d sent Alyssia a text saying he might be late, but she hadn’t responded.
It was earlier than her overnight shift was scheduled to start, and for all he knew, she was still getting ready.
Unbidden, images flashed through his thoughts of her in the shower.
Tall, lean, with water cascading over her.
What was wrong with him? He dropped into his car, pulled onto the road, and turned on a local talk radio station. This time of night, they ran updates every ten minutes about the stock exchange, and he liked to hear the highlights.
Some of his tension slipped away as he navigated lighter than normal rush hour traffic. He might even make it with a few minutes to spare.
“Tonight on ABC News at seven…”
The pre-recorded commercial filtered into his thoughts, and blocked it out as standard chatter.
“You think you’re taking your dog to the vet for a routine checkup, and suddenly the police are knocking on your door.
” The announcer’s voice held a hint of threat, just enough to draw in listeners.
Tate’s brain froze, and then honed in on the words.
“We’ll tell you which local shelter may be up to no good. ”
Thompson’s station. Please don’t let this be about Lys’s shelter.
His gut clenched at the reminder of the scene he’d left behind the night before, and his mother’s threat echoed in his head.
The remaining time it took to reach his destination passed like cold molasses.
Should he tell Alyssia she might want to check this story out?
Keep what he’d heard to himself? She didn’t need more stress, and there was no guarantee the news report was about her.
The moment he walked through the front door, Sara nodded toward Lys’s office. “She said you could go right in.”
He might have been worried to hear otherwise.
He paused, hand on the doorknob, and spun back toward the waiting room.
The TV they kept behind the counter was on, turned to the news, and a promo video for upcoming stories.
Sure enough, the image on the screen was the front of the shelter.
Shit. So much for figuring out whether or not he was going to tell her.
He pushed into her office, and knew immediately from the sound coming from her speakers that she was streaming the news.
She looked up from her monitor, forehead pinched, and jaw clenched. “We’re so screwed.”
His chest ached at the worry in her eyes. “It can’t be that bad.”
“No?” She raked shaky fingers through her hair.
“The camera crews showed up about two hours after I told Thompson he couldn’t have his dog back.
I was already home asleep. The staff wouldn’t tell them anything, because that’s our policy.
And now I see this on the commercials? How could that possibly be anything but bad? ”
He forced a calm he didn’t feel past his own concerns. “We’ll watch; you’ll deal. Life will go on.”
She looked at him, eyes narrowed, and mouth flat. “That’s not as placating as you may think.”
* * *
Alyssia wasn’t going to snap at Tate. She had too many other things going on to deal with his brand of calm.
He was trying to help, which was why she was biting her tongue, but sometimes he tried a little too hard.
The streaming news shifted scenes, and her gut clenched.
She crossed her arms. She was vaguely aware of Tate moving behind her, but her attention was focused on the news clip.
The lead-in to the story was almost the same as what she’d been hearing teased on commercials since she woke up.
And then her world crumbled a little, and an insistent throb twitched behind her eye.
The reporter was talking to Bryce Thompson Jr., his parents sitting next to him on the couch in a living room larger than her entire townhouse.
He frowned and sniffled as he explained how his dog had been struck in a hit and run.
A growl slipped from her throat. The dog’s injuries didn’t coincide with that.
He went on to say he hadn’t known what to do.
His parents were gone for the evening, but he was lucky a member of the staff was around.
She took the dog in for treatment at an all-night animal hospital.
Alyssia’s blood boiled hotter the longer she watched.
The newsman talking about “and that’s when the nightmare began.
” The camera and reporter trying to get into her clinic.
The footage—only about three seconds compared to the truth on her own security cameras—made it look like Ricco had literally kicked them out on their asses the moment they’d walked in.
“The shelter took his dog, and refuses to return the animal to its family. They declined our requests for comments. But as of now, they’ve kidnapped this poor child’s best friend, and locked it away, cold and scared in some back room kennel. ”
She sank back in her chair, acid churning in her gut. A quiet, “Fuck,” slipped past her lips and frustration stung her eyelids. Goddammit. What was she going to do?
She slowly became aware of Tate’s hand resting on the back of her neck, his thumb kneading at the tight cord running from her shoulder to her skull. His quiet tone seeped into her thoughts. “Press release. Letter to the station. Contact Legal about slander.”
His methodical list took the edge off her mounting fear and frustration, but didn’t erase it.
She nodded. “I should get on that.” How could he sound so sure and calm right now?
Everything inside her was screaming at her to do something.
That this was bad. That the local news had just told the entire community that her shelter was essentially kidnapping dogs.
Nausea bubbled up again, and she swallowed it back.
It didn’t help. “I’ll call the lawyer. And have Sara start on the press release.
Someone needs to contact the station now.
I should do that first. Can I counter before the ten o’clock news?
We have security footage, we can show them that’s not how this happened. This isn’t right, we can’t—”
“Stop.” His voice was still low, but the single word stamped out her rambling. “Do the first two. Don’t fly off in a frenzy and try and fight this war publicly. This is Thompson’s TV station. Going into things half-cocked won’t help.”
“But he’s verbally destroying the shelter.” She wanted to scream. Was Tate trying to make this difficult? “He just told the entire town I’m a fucking puppy kidnapper. I have to tell them otherwise.”
“Lys.” Tate’s gentle tone was still there but an edge lined the single syllable. “You should and you will, but not without a plan. Don’t rush into this unprepared, okay?”
She ground her teeth at the condescension, but didn’t have the words to argue. “Fine.”
Her speaker phone buzzed, and Sara’s tentative voice filled the room. “There’s a camera guy here?”
Her already fractured thoughts shattered further. “They’re back? What the hell? Can I go talk to them now? This is my chance, right? I can set things straight.”
Her chair spun and she found herself face to face with Tate.
He was half kneeling in front of her, gaze locked on hers, forehead wrinkled in concern.
He rested a hand on her neck again, thumb stroking her cheek.
She wanted to slap his arm away, but the shock of his touch raced through her and filled in the cracks in her thoughts with glue.
When he leaned in and kissed her, lips soft and tender, her entire world ground to a stop.
Her tension was still there, struggling in the back of her mind to be heard, but she couldn’t focus on it.
Her attention was on the rough fingers against her skin, the tiny nips he laid along her bottom lip, the way his tongue swirled around hers.
She exhaled softly, when he broke away and rested his forehead against hers.
“Paying attention now?” The edge was gone from his voice. Was he breathless? No, she wasn’t thinking straight. He was just trying to keep that infuriating calm demeanor.
She wanted to lean in for another kiss. Something more intense to chase the flutters through her veins like the night before. Instead, she nodded.
He bit his top lip for a moment, before continuing. “Good. It’s Greg from the office. He’s going to take video of the animals.”
She swallowed, struggling with disappointment and relief, but she wasn’t sure what the source of either feeling was. “Right.”
“I’ll hook him up with one of your volunteers. You start making phone calls about this news thing.” He finally pulled away, and as he stood, she swore his hand was trembling.
“Right. Press release from Sara, and call Legal.”
The moment the door closed behind him, the borders protecting her compartmentalized thoughts disintegrated.
Had he really just kissed her? And why was she focused on that?
Because it was an easier question that what the hell she was going to do about this possible media shitstorm.
She took a few deep breaths. They had a plan, and she would follow it.
Her stomach lurched when she reached for her phone, and she pushed aside the nausea. She could do this.
* * *
Tate couldn’t believe he’d kissed her. A single night of no sleep and a little stress and he was letting instinct and lust drive him? He was really off his game this week. Her taste still lingered on his lips. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But instinct had kicked in, and he’d needed to calm her down.