2. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Bella
The morning air smells like pine needles, damp earth, and dog shampoo. I’m out back behind the shelter, scrubbing out food bowls while Bluebell, our one-eyed senior beagle, snores on a patch of sun-warmed gravel. Inside, the morning feeding frenzy has calmed, and everyone’s chewing, lounging, or barking at shadows like it’s their full-time job. Business as usual.
I glance at the stack of bills sitting on the edge of the outdoor table and sigh. Also business as usual, unfortunately—and the side of the business I loathe.
I insist on being a no-kill shelter, which makes for expensive elder-care for some of our dogs. So, vet costs are up. And the van we use to do transport runs is wheezing like its days are numbered. I’d sell a kidney if it would do any good. But we’d just be right back in this situation before long—and I’d be short an organ to boot.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I wipe my hands on my jeans and pull it out. Stacy, Hawks Roost’s event coordinator’s face flashes on the screen. I suppress a groan. I like Stacy, but when she calls, it’s usually because she needs a favor—and it’s impossible to tell her no.
I swear she could get a vampire to RSVP yes to a sunrise prayer circle.
“Hey, Stacy,” I answer, already wary.
“Bells! You busy?”
“I’m elbow-deep in kibble crust, but what’s up?”
“I need a favor.” Of course she does. “But really, I’d be doing you the favor. So hear me out before you say no.”
I narrow my eyes even though she can’t see me. “What is it?”
“You have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be in the Hawks Roost Bachelor and Bachelorette Charity Auction! Hawks Roost’s most eligible bachelors will bid on the chance to win a date with you.”
I nearly drop the phone. “Excuse me?”
She barrels on. “We’re short on female participants, and I need someone local, likable, and not a total wet blanket. You’re beautiful, Bella. And everyone loves the work you do. You’d be perfect.”
“I run a rescue for traumatized dogs, Stacy. I’m not a beauty pageant contestant.”
“Exactly! You’re a real person, and the town loves you. You’ll fetch big money—which will be donated to your rescue, of course.”
We could certainly use the money. But an auction? I couldn’t possibly…
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Stacy says. “Please say yes? You just have to go on one date with the highest bidder. You can even bring a dog for emotional support. I’ll throw in a spa day to help you get ready. Makeup, hair, nails… the works. On me.”
I let out a breath. My gut says no , because public attention is so not my thing. But then my eyes fall on the stack of bills waiting to be paid. And, really, why not? A date could be fun. I’m single.
Painfully, publicly, freshly single.
My brain conjures up a flash of my ex-fiancé: perfect smile, expensive cologne, and the very cliché secretary he’d been “working late” with for months. That discovery had come with all the subtlety of a dumpster fire.
Screw him.
“Okay,” I say, surprising even myself. “I’ll do it.”
Stacy squeals so loudly I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“You’re the best ! I’m going to text you details. And don't be mad, but I already put your name on the promo poster just in case.”
I laugh. “Of course you did.”
As we hang up, I glance down at Bluebell.
“Well,” I say, bending to scratch her floppy ears, “guess I’m officially a bachelorette now.”
She snorts and rolls onto her back, entirely unimpressed.
I sigh. “Hopefully, the men in the audience will be easier to impress than you are, because we could really use the money.”