Chapter 27
Nolan
It’s been a full day and I still haven’t recovered from that conversation about sex.
Maybe it’s the unfair, mind-blowing fact that Andi hasn’t been treated the way she deserves in bed.
Or maybe I’m just an asshat baby who can’t handle a simple conversation about sex with a platonic friend—who happens to be obscenely attractive.
I was a half second away from kissing her, and I’m fairly certain she wanted to kiss me, too.
The only problem is, I would have wanted to do a lot more.
Things could have gone from zero to a hundred quick if I hadn’t left so abruptly.
It’s for the better, I keep telling myself, especially since I’m leaving.
In fact, Jones texted yesterday to let me know he might have some good news about a posting soon, though there were no details.
He doesn’t like to say too much until it’s a sure thing.
I don’t want to make things more complicated than they have to be. Besides, I like hanging out with Andi. Really like it. If we got physical beyond our arrangement, it could get awkward, which is why I’ve decided that intimate hangouts at her place are probably a bad idea.
The next time we see each other at lunch, I act like nothing happened.
Like I didn’t have a hard-on the entire rest of the night just thinking about the way the thin fabric of her dress clung to her skin.
We keep our conversation casual and light, neither of us bringing up what happened (or didn’t).
It’s better this way, because after work, we take the forty-five-minute drive to a farm to spend some time with the rescue dogs. I’ve been stoked about the idea ever since she brought it up in Squamish.
The place itself is a little hobby farm southwest of the city.
It’s a nice setup, with a massive gated area divided up into various pens and enclosures, all connected by a dirt pathway.
There are also communal covered areas for the dogs to come and go for water and shelter.
We’re immediately met with wagging tails and yips from particularly excitable ones running up and down the fence, seemingly rejoicing in our arrival.
A sturdy woman in overalls and muddy rain boots trudges over to meet us. Three large dogs follow close at her heels, nipping playfully at her pockets, presumably for treats. Her weathered face breaks into a smile when she spots Andi. “Andi! Great to see you. It’s been too long.”
“I know. I’ve been so busy this summer. But I see you remodeled the enclosures.” Andi gestures toward the pens.
“We did! Finally got Hank to build ’em. Took a while for the dogs to get used to, but now they love ’em,” she explains, her gaze shifting to me.
“This is Nolan,” Andi says, stepping aside so I can shake Deidra’s calloused hand.
“Nice to meet you. Welcome to the farm.” Deidra glances at the dogs, now sitting obediently at her feet.
“These three here are some of our permanent residents,” she explains, her voice softening with affection.
“Bernie is the golden retriever. He’s one of the first ones I ever took in, five years ago.
He was found with mange in a parking lot dumpster.
The collie is Brenda, a puppy mill rescue and the boss lady.
She’s a herder so she likes to keep everyone in line.
The big guy is King. We think he might have some wolf in him, but we don’t know for sure. ”
Andi bends down to stroke King’s head. “Deidra takes in the dogs that are surrendered from death row at the main shelters,” she explains. “She’s able to adopt out most.”
Deidra gives a modest shrug. “Usually, they just need some basic obedience training and a lot of belly rubs. Nine times out of ten, they make amazing pets. And the ones that don’t, we keep here.”
“Wow, running a place like this sounds like a lot of work,” I say, impressed.
Deidra nods, chuckling as Max nudges her hand for attention. She obliges, ruffling his fur. “It is, but it’s worth it. Every one of these dogs deserves a second chance at a happy life.
“We have about ten rescues right now,” she explains, taking us to the pens for a mini tour.
They lead into a larger, grassy area, where the dogs without behavioral issues can socialize with one another.
A couple bigger dogs follow us in, all vying for attention.
“We try not to take more than that, given the space. But the shelter is always calling us. They’re overrun, especially after spring litters. ”
My heart clenches seeing Andi kneeling in the muddy grass, giving each dog much-needed love.
A mix of dogs surround her: a couple of Lab mixes, a fluffy husky, a doodle mix.
Off to the side, a midsize dog catches my eye.
It’s standing alone at the edge of the group, sniffing the perimeter of the fence.
Its fur is sparse, with patches of sad-looking white fuzz clinging to raw, red skin.
Its legs are thin and shaky, like they could give out any second.
“What happened to that one?” I ask Deidra.
“That’s Cody. He’s been here a couple months.
He’s an Airedale terrier, not that you can tell.
He was surrendered by his owner because he kept chewing off all his hair.
The vet thinks he has food and environmental allergies that led to a severe skin infection.
We’re trying to work out a proper diet for him. He also needs daily medicated baths.”
“Poor guy,” Andi says, holding her hand out to coax him over. He eyes her but doesn’t approach.
“He doesn’t have a lot of confidence. I think it’s because of his fur,” Deidra whispers, as though he can understand us.
I extend a hand toward him. He eyes me warily before backing away into his corner.
He looks like he needs a bit of space, so I back off and join Andi to run around with the more outgoing dogs.
Over the next hour, I notice Cody’s sad brown eyes longingly following our movements from his corner.
While Andi helps Deidra dole out some special snacks, I decide to try again.
I approach slowly, stopping when he cowers again in the corner.
Instead of going closer, I sit in the grass nearby with a treat on my knee.
I avoid eye contact, waiting for him to come on his own terms. After a couple minutes, he eventually does.
He takes a tentative step forward, barely close enough to sniff my hand and take the treat before darting back again, his little nub of a tail tucked tightly between his legs.
I wait a little longer for him to gather the courage to return.
This time, he sits a couple feet away. His skin looks raw and a little shiny, probably too raw to pet, so I give him a soft pat on the head where some thicker tufts of fur remain.
He flinches at first but relaxes slightly.
He seems to like it, because his breathing grows heavier.
For the next fifteen minutes, we sit together quietly, him inching closer and closer until he finally plunks next to me, his back resting against my hip. He watches Andi frolicking around the pen with the others. Finally gaining his trust feels rewarding. More so than any job, any mission.
When I go to stand, he follows me. In fact, he follows me around the pen for the rest of our time.
“Wow, Cody took a liking to you,” Deidra remarks, genuinely surprised when she returns. “He’s been so timid since he got here. I’ve been worried he wouldn’t get adopted if he couldn’t build trust with someone.”
“He’s got so much potential,” I say, stroking Cody’s greasy head. “A little TLC and he’ll be an amazing dog.”
Deidra swings me a hopeful look. “We just need to find the right owner for him. Are you in the market for a dog?”
“I wish,” I reply honestly. “I travel a lot for work and I’m not staying in Ottawa long-term.”
As Andi and I prepare to leave, the thought of saying goodbye to Cody makes me feel like shit.
He follows me as far as he can, his small frame lingering at the gate as Deidra gently closes it.
Through the narrow crack, he watches us pull away, his eyes filled with a desperate longing that just about kills me.
Andi glances at me from the passenger seat. “We’ll come back,” she says, voice soft.
I swallow hard. “Tomorrow?”