The Love Shack

Chapter 7

Three days ofrain turned the shelter’s exercise yard into a muddy mess, which made Berkley, her two part-time staff and every available volunteer put in extra hours to keep paws and kennels clean. They’d no sooner get the job done than it became muddy again. She couldn’t wait for the return of superhot, sunny days.

Thankfully, Hero was a fastidious fellow who avoided mud puddles when possible. Still, his paws had to be cleaned every time he went out, and when playing with a few of the other dogs at the shelter? It was game on. If one leaped into mud, Hero followed.

The upside to that was they were each equally exhausted at the end of the day. Dinner, a couple of hours cuddling on the couch, and they were both ready to crash.

Hero slept wherever he wanted, as did Cheese. Sometimes they were in her bed, sometimes on the floor—which meant she always had to step carefully when first awakening—and sometimes they’d go to another room.

Made her wonder if she snored, or more likely, tossed and turned too much.

Today, as she sluggishly stirred and opened her eyes, she found Cheese staring down at her intently, a clue that the cat was hungry. Berkley groaned, gave her a tickle under her furry chin, then lifted her head to locate Hero.

On the floor, curled up nose to butt, Hero snoozed on.

Smiling down at him, she then whispered, “Morning, bud.”

He jerked awake with a start, legs wheeling in the air a moment before he got upright and greeted her with a wide yawn, showing sharp teeth and curling his long tongue.

Body aching and head muzzy, Berkley sat up and stretched. It didn’t help. “How lucky am I to wake up with two such amazing friends?”

Cheese headbutted her once before leaping from the bed and leaving the room, no doubt heading to the kitchen for breakfast.

For only a moment, as she sat there on the side of the bed, Berkley was transported back in time to the naive age of seventeen. She’d always awakened then with a stretch, too, anxious to check on her mom, who had good days and bad. Full of love and hopes for a bright future, Berkley had found the mornings easier then. Her mother, despite her illness, had been happier, uplifted by Berkley’s romance with a considerate, mature man who’d promised to help her through all the tough times. In those days, her mother had thought her only daughter had found love and she’d been upbeat.

Then the news had struck, and her name became synonymous with everything ugly in the world. She was a husband stealer, a dog-faced, pathetic loser. A few people had said it was good her mother was dying, because that was preferable to living with Berkley.

Pain struck her anew, and her hand automatically went to her stomach as if to soothe the queasiness churning there. Until that awful episode of her life, she hadn’t known people could be so deliberately cruel. And she’d never expected such cruelty to be aimed at her.

Hero whined, snapping her back to her morning and the long list of things she had to get done.

“I’m sorry, Hero. Didn’t mean to worry you.”

Her soft tone did the trick, sending his whip tail swinging wildly. “C’mon. Let’s get going.” She let him out to his enclosed area first thing, thankful that she didn’t smell any rain in the air. She was exhausted through and through, so it was no wonder that it took her a few minutes to get clearheaded enough to realize she didn’t feel great.

This was not going to be a typical Monday morning.

Every muscle ached and her head hurt. Her eyes burned. Her throat felt scratchy.

Didn’t matter. Her job was the type that didn’t allow for unplanned breaks. Whether she was sick or not, those animals depended on her, so ten minutes later she had her tangled hair tied up, her face washed and her teeth brushed. She grabbed a cup of coffee, hurriedly drank it while leaning against the sink and watched the dawn lighten the dark sky. She couldn’t stop yawning.

It wasn’t just the surfeit of work and a possible cold that made her tired, though. Ever since their shared dinner, her nights had been restless with thoughts of Lawson. How nice his no-pressure company had been. He’d been considerate without coming on to her, concerned without showing pity. And he’d seemed to enjoy it as much as she had.

But that was a few evenings ago and she really wouldn’t have minded a little interest from him. He could stop in and say hi. Or something.

Blah. She annoyed herself with her endless speculation. If she wanted his company, she could stop by—but she didn’t. She could call him after work and ask him if he’d like to share another meal.

She wouldn’t.

Instead, she rinsed her cup, jammed a hat on her head, stuffed a few tissues into her pocket, and trudged out to greet her adoring fan club of dogs and cats. As she allowed them out into their private grassy areas, she once again gave heartfelt thanks to Betty and the town council, as well as every person residing in Cemetery, for the generous accommodations supplied to the animals. For a small town, they’d really pulled together to set up a fantastic shelter. Right now, they had plenty of room, but she knew that would eventually change. There’d be times when they were so crowded, they’d need help fostering pets.

But for now, even while feeling crappy, she enjoyed the extra care she could give each animal. Hero joined her out in the yard, though she kept him contained on a long lead. That was another perk of her job. She didn’t need to leave her pets.

At eight o’clock, Whitley showed up and greeted her with the explanation “You looked tuckered out yesterday, so I thought I’d get here earlier today and give you a hand.”

Leaning on the broom handle, Berkley said, “You’re a welcome sight. Thank you. I was just about to feed the hungry hoard, so—”

“I’ll do it.” Whitley gave her a long look. “Maybe you should take a break.”

“I’m fine.” Or she would be, as soon as she found her pep. She’d lost it somewhere, and her sneakers seemed to be made of lead.

Unconvinced, Whitley said, “Okay, but don’t overdo it. This place couldn’t run without you. You’re the heart here, you know.”

What a wonderful way to put it. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll go grab a protein bar, but I won’t be long.”

Saying it was easier than doing it. For some reason, even the bland snack made her stomach flinch. After consuming half the bar, she opted for another cup of coffee, again standing at the sink. If she sat down, she wasn’t sure she’d get back up. In fact... She forced herself to get moving.

Two hours later, she was just about finished with her morning chores when her phone vibrated with an incoming call. Pulling it from her pocket, she checked the screen and automatically smiled when she saw it was Betty.

It was as good of an excuse to sit down as any, so as she answered, she went to a bench and dropped—literally dropped—onto it. “Good morning.”

“Morning, sunshine,” Betty said. “I’m coming out to see you. Do you need anything?”

Confused, Berkley checked the time. “It’s only ten.”

“So? You’ve been up and working for five hours now.”

True. She and Betty talked often enough that Betty knew her schedule. “You don’t usually make it here until noon or later.” New worry bloomed, despite the reassurances Lawson had given her. “Are you okay?”

Betty made a sound of frustration. “Are you calling me old, Berkley?”

“Well...no. But...” She was old. “I, um...”

“You think I sleep my days away?”

“Of course not!” Few people got as much accomplished as the town matriarch. “No one would call you a slug, Betty, so stop trying to pick an argument with me.”

Betty laughed. “Oh, I do enjoy how you stand up to me. I’m leaving now, so no more arguments. How about I bring some Danish?”

Her stomach couldn’t decide if that sounded good or revolting, so she said, “Sure, but nothing too heavy for me.”

Pouncing on that, Betty asked, “Why? Are you unwell?”

With her gaze seeking out Whitley, who studiously brushed a cat with her face averted, Berkley asked, “Did someone say I was unwell?”

The entirely fake laugh wouldn’t fool anyone. “I’m on my way,” Betty sang.

Sang.It was absurd. To many, Betty was a dragon. The woman did not sing. “You’re up to something.”

“Visiting a friend, so sue me.”

“Fine.” Berkley was only wasting energy debating it on the phone. “Drive safely.” As soon as she disconnected, she approached Whitley, but before she could say a word or question her, Erin, her other part-time worker, pulled up.

That made two who’d come in early.

“Morning, all,” Erin called. “With all the rain we’ve had, I figured I could lend a hand here before I get started on the paperwork for the week. Fortunately, the ten-day forecast shows only clear skies, so we’ll be past this little crisis in no time.”

Honestly, Berkley was glad for the help. No one hustled like Erin. “Two of the dogs need baths.” That particular word caused some of the dogs to howl, while Hero leaped in hopeful joy. He did love his baths. “Make that three dogs.”

They’d just gotten set up and were starting when Betty arrived.

She emerged from her car with a lot of fanfare—while shining some light on this morning’s mysteries. “Oh good, you’re both here.”

Whitley and Erin winced with guilt.

See? Berkley knew something was afoot.

“Berkley, you need to go sit down before you fall down. We’ll take Hero in with us, and would you mind fetching Gladys? I always enjoy visiting with her.”

Betty and the older dog, Gladys, had gotten very friendly over the last few weeks. “I don’t think—”

Her protest got cut short when Betty removed two bags from her back seat. “These pastries are for you to share,” she said to Whitley and Erin. “My small way of thanking you for your help today.”

Erin and Whitley looked at each other, then grinned. Usually they were wary of Betty, and with good reason.

Berkley, however, was used to Betty’s kinder side. She waved a hand. “Go on, you two. Take a break and enjoy the snack.”

“You’re not mad?” Erin asked her.

“About the organized interference?” She wondered who had instigated it, but she’d put her money on Betty. “Of course not. I appreciate the thoughtfulness.”

“You really do look kaput,” Whitley said.

“I’ll take care of her,” Betty announced. “Now, where’s Gladys?”

With a grin, Whitley said, “Go on in. I’ll bring her to you.”

A few minutes later, in Berkley’s home with fresh coffee and a half-eaten cake donut in front of her, she accepted defeat. She really was kaput.

The second Gladys had come in, she’d greeted Betty with pure joy and hadn’t quite settled down yet. The dog was a chunky thing, a mutt with short yellow fur, a thick body, small head and stubby legs that didn’t match her length.

She seemed to want Betty to hold her, and kept hopping as if trying to get into Betty’s lap. Betty finally said, “Oh, sweetheart. We don’t have the right body types for jumping.”

Berkley snorted a surprised laugh. When Betty frowned at her, she laughed even more. Exhaustion and hilarity did not go well together. She kept seeing Gladys and Betty as comparable body types and it’d set her off again. She was near tears by the time she wound down, and couldn’t catch her breath without coughing. Poor Hero began to fret.

“Do you allow him on the furniture?”

“Of course,” Berkley said. “This is Hero’s home, too.”

“Then let’s go to the living room and get comfortable so these poor dogs can relax.”

Berkley considered that a great idea, especially since she could barely stay upright in the straight-backed chair.

Before she dropped into a seat, Berkley helped Gladys up onto the couch, and Betty settled beside her. Hero hopped up, so Berkley took the opposite end of the couch, then propped her feet on the coffee table and put her head back.

To keep from falling asleep, she said, “Gladys has really gotten attached to you.”

Betty cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking of adopting her.”

That got her attention. “Oh?” She turned her head and found both hope and expectation in Betty’s expression—as if Berkley could deny her anything. Cautiously, she said, “That sounds wonderful.”

“Gladys is old and slow, like me. She’s settled, not a rambunctious puppy that would trip me up and want me to play fetch for hours. We like each other.”

“All true.” Gladys had already curled up beside Betty with her head in her lap. “Maturity can also mean bladder problems.”

“Don’t I know it,” Betty muttered.

That nearly set her off in another fit of giggles, but Berkley managed to keep it together. “Arthritis, too, hip dysplasia.”

“You’re preaching to the choir.” Betty stubbornly insisted, “I want Gladys. We’ll be good company for each other.”

“And when it rains and Gladys gets muddy paws? Or when she leaves messes on the floor?”

“I’ll hire someone to help.”

Berkley reached across the couch, palm up. Surprised, Betty reached back, and they clasped hands. “I’d love nothing more than for you and Gladys to be together. I just want to make sure that you’re not overdoing it.” Her throat got tight, but she didn’t hesitate. “You’re important to me, Betty. The most important person I’ve had in my life since losing my mother.”

Betty’s entire face pinched, her eyes going liquid and her mouth quivering. “Oh, you!” She squeezed Berkley’s fingers, then swiped at her eyes. “Don’t you dare make me cry. I’m such an ugly crier. It’s my worst failing.” She sniffled, alarming Hero, who sat at attention.

Since she loved them both, Berkley let them be themselves. If Betty wanted to cry, then she could cry. If Hero wanted to comfort her, she didn’t think Betty would mind.

They were both wonderful.

Swallowing heavily, and then giving another sniff, Betty composed herself. “Thank you. I honestly never knew how nice it was to be needed.” Her mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “Or how much I wanted that. I’d been alone and independent so long, and I kept assuring myself that I was living my best life.”

“You are,” Berkley said. “You have a wonderful life. The entire town honors you.”

“Honors me, sometimes fears me and often avoids me.” She sighed. “I’ve made friends with many young women lately. They’re kind and they include me, and they’re each special to me. But with you it’s different.”

Berkley smiled. “Because I need you.”

“Maybe you do for now, but that’ll change. You, too, are independent and strong—like me. You’re also young, so you have time to choose a different path, if you want it.”

“If you’re talking about Lawson—”

“I’m talking about embracing the town and everyone in it, including Lawson. I know you’re busy here, and you certainly need some time to recover from whatever bug you have now, but you should join us at the town council. We meet the second and last Thursday of every month at six. Plus we have a tea club now. That’s the first and third Monday of every month.”

Berkley laughed. “That’s a busy schedule you keep.”

“You can find your place here, Berkley. Not just on the periphery, staying out here alone with the shelter animals. In the town, with the people. Good people and annoying people, fun and bossy.”

Berkley tipped her head.

“Okay, yes, I’m the bossy one.”

They shared a soft laugh.

“I’m just saying, you might find people as interesting as animals.”

“And then you think I won’t need you?”

Betty stroked Gladys’s fur. “I won’t be around forever. I want to know that you’ll be okay.”

Her throat tightened more. “My mother said the same words to me.” Right before the scandal turned their lives upside down.

Betty went right past that. “What won’t ever change is our mutual love for animals. You give them the care I can’t. If I didn’t already love you, that’d do it right here.”

Gladys began to snore, which prompted Hero to get comfortable again, too.

“Thank you,” Berkley whispered. “For making this shelter possible, for being my friend and for loving me.”

Heaving a deep breath and closing her eyes, Betty said, “You’re most welcome.”

It was the last thing said, and the last thing Berkley remembered before she dozed off.

Lawson glared at Kathleen, who was in front of his shop and now holding a sign that said Why don’t you like me? Not funny.

He didn’t know who’d put her there, but she wasn’t around when he’d arrived earlier, or when he’d changed out the front window display. Lark had given him a great idea, one of many, and now, instead of just showing a variety of his products, he featured actual jobs he’d gotten.

The salon’s apron was visible for all to see, as well as a T-shirt advertising Saul’s restaurant. Next to that was a sleeveless shirt promoting Oliver’s new gym. His favorite, though, was a T-shirt for the shelter that said The Love Shack in bold print, and beneath it: Rescue, Save, Love.

Today had been busy with a lot of people coming and going, some picking up commissioned work, others requesting special print jobs, some browsing the many designs for lake life and some specifically for Cemetery.

The town name really was catchy.

Through it all, he’d been distracted, so he had no idea when the mannequin was placed there.

Again, he looked at the clock. He had hours to go before closing tonight, but he couldn’t help thinking about Berkley. In a small town, word traveled fast, so he knew she wasn’t feeling well. Apparently, Betty had wrangled some extra workers for her throughout the day so she wouldn’t be so busy. According to Will, Betty herself had gone out to the shelter to ensure Berkley got some rest.

Would Berkley listen, though? She adored Betty, but she also felt a huge responsibility to every single pet at the shelter. Berkley didn’t just ensure they had food and a clean place to sleep. She gave them love, attention, exercise, the room to feel free while also being a part of a family.

As a customer left, Will said, “You should take your break while you can.”

“What about you?” Their morning had been so busy, neither of them had gotten a break.

“I brought my lunch with me, so no worries.” He gave Lawson a critical perusal and said, “Man, you should go check on her.”

“Who?” If Will meant Kathleen, he could forget it. Lawson wasn’t going anywhere near the mannequin.

“The woman working at the shelter. That’s who you’re worrying about, right?”

“Who says I’m worrying?”

Will grinned. “I don’t know, dude, but you’ve been watching the clock ever since Wheeler stopped by and said Betty was recruiting people to work out there in shifts. Seriously, I’ve got this covered.”

He was so damned tempted, but... “It’s too much work for one person.”

“Nah. We don’t have any more orders going out today, and I can eat my lunch here at the counter in between customers. It’s just a sandwich. Go. Take an hour if you want. I’m good.”

God bless energetic nineteen-year-olds. “If you’re sure you don’t mind...”

“I got you. No sweat.”

Lawson clapped him on the shoulder. “Remind me to give you a raise.” Fortunately, he’d parked in back, so he was able to avoid Kathleen completely as he went out and got in his truck. The shelter was away from the center part of town, but Lawson cut back on the drive by going to his own house and walking through the woods. He wasn’t surprised to see Whitley and Erin, since they both worked for Berkley, but Yardley and Mimi, women he’d met a few times, were also there, as well as Wheeler, who was apparently spending his day off from the restaurant by walking dogs.

When the town all pulled together like this, how could he not love it? They didn’t just welcome people, they embraced them.

Whitley hurried over to him. “Lawson, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be at your shop.”

“Using my lunch break to check on things.”

Whitley gestured over to the fenced area for the shelter. “We’ve got it covered. I don’t think we’ve ever had this many volunteers at one time. Between me and Wheeler, the dogs are loving it, and Yardley and Mimi are keeping the cats entertained. Emily is coming tomorrow. She adopted her pets—a bonded cat and dog—from Berkley, before Berkley moved here and took over The Love Shack.”

“I wasn’t aware.” But he liked hearing it. Keeping all the names straight had been a challenge at first, but now he knew Yardley and Mimi were best friends. “Yardley is the wedding planner, right?”

“Yup. And Emily is the flower lady.”

He nodded.

“Erin’s been keeping track of everything so we can give Berkley a report whenever she emerges.”

“Emerges?” What did that mean?

“Yeah, see, she and Betty went inside a few hours ago and haven’t come back out.” She bit her lip and glanced at the door to the house, which wasn’t that far from the shelter. “I hope that doesn’t mean Berkley is really sick. She looked pale when I got here, like she could sit down and nod off—Where are you going?”

Already on his way, Lawson said, “I’ll just check on her and see what’s up.” Everything Whitley had said only added to his concern. He didn’t like it.

In so many ways, Berkley had an indomitable spirit. She was a fighter, thank God, given what she’d been put through. She’d been used by a cheater, viciously maligned and lost her mother, all at a young age, yet she’d come out of it with a huge heart and the drive to help animals.

Catching up to him, Whitley said, “Betty’s still in there with her.”

“I won’t intrude,” he promised. “I’ll give you a full report in just a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said, not looking convinced. “But if it irks Betty, tell her it was your idea.”

He sent her a grin. “I’ll take all the blame.” Opening the door quietly, Lawson glanced around the interior. The side door he’d used, which was closest to the shelter, opened into a small laundry area and mudroom. Right beyond that was the kitchen.

It amused him, in a somewhat detached way, that although the shelter was big and modern, sleek in design with everything Berkley would need to provide the best care for the animals, her house was much more compact, clearly meant for only one person.

He wouldn’t call it a tiny house, but it was definitely on the small side. A two-seater café table took up the available space between appliances and counters. Through the kitchen he could see the living room, and a hallway set at an angle that probably led to two bedrooms.

Unlike his place, her décor was purely functional. Coffee maker on the counter, cups on pegs behind it. She’d left herself almost no room for meal prep, but then, she’d already said she ate alone. As he looked around again, this time imagining her in the space, his heart gave an odd, unrecognizable thump. It was sad to think of her by herself, but it was also heartwarming to know she had the strength to face the world alone, to make her own rules about her life and how she wanted to live it.

Some people would be downhearted about living here in the woods all alone. Berkley saw it as a way to do what she loved. He didn’t have a single doubt that she was grateful for this particular lifestyle—a home of her own near her beloved shelter.

Damn, he admired her.

A noise, like a low rumbling engine, drew him to the open doorway that led to the tidy living room. One small sofa, a padded chair, a couple of tables and a small TV on a stand filled the room.

He couldn’t stop grinning. The women sat at either end of the sofa.

On the far side, Betty slouched in her seat as if someone had knocked her out: short legs angled out before her, arms sprawled at her sides, head tipped back and sideways, and with her mouth open while she loudly snored. A chubby yellow dog lay next to her, also snoring.

Hero, who was on the sofa, too, had come awake, but fortunately not with any alarm. He just lifted his head and watched Lawson from his position beside Berkley at the opposite end.

She was conked out, but unlike Betty, Berkley was curled in her seat with her feet resting on the edge of the coffee table. She had one arm tucked close to her body, and the other slung over Hero’s neck. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were flushed. She looked limp, messy and adorable.

As he stood there watching her, Hero seemed to smile, then he lumbered off the couch, which disturbed Berkley—but not the other dog or Betty.

They snored on.

Hero came to him for some pats while Berkley slowly blinked her eyes open. Seeing him left her disoriented for a moment, then she glanced around, spotted Betty and smiled.

What a picture she made. Soft and sleepy. Sweet. Strange things happened to his libido as he gazed at her, things that felt good in indefinable ways. All he knew was that he could have stood there watching her for hours and been content.

Lifting a finger to her lips, Berkley gave him the universal sign for quiet and gingerly left her seat, still without disturbing Betty.

When she took his hand and led him to the kitchen, he silently followed, as did Hero.

It struck him how natural it felt. It was his first time in her house, but it was as if they’d done this dozens of times. Smiled, touched, shared. Did she feel it, too?

Around the corner, nearer to the door he’d entered, she turned to face him and whispered, “I don’t want to wake Betty.”

Her nap hadn’t done her hair any favors. She wore not a speck of makeup.

And she was still beautiful.

Slowly, in case she objected, he removed the hat from her head and set it on the counter. With his fingertips, he smoothed some of the wayward, pink-tipped locks that had escaped her updo.

Berkley didn’t move. Her smile slipped away and her eyes widened a little. Blue eyes, full of questions.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to drift his hand down until he cupped her cheek. Damn, her skin was soft.

And too warm.

Frowning a little, he put the backs of his fingers to her forehead. “I think you have a fever.”

Confusion stole the dazed expression from her face, then she blinked several times and stepped back so quickly she bumped into the counter. With a wince, she rubbed her back. “I’m probably warm from sleeping. I never nap, except Betty was insistent, and we were talking, and then... I dunno.”

“You’re running on empty.” Never would he tell her the job was too much for her. Berkley would know that better than him, but he was glad Betty had organized extra help. Instead, he nodded and said, “I should know, because it happened to me once.”

“What did?”

“The weather, the job, lack of sleep—it all caught up to me. We were clearing destruction from tornados in Texas.” Tension crept into his neck, just remembering. “All around us, people had lost entire homes. Some had lost family. A school was leveled.”

Hero stepped up to him, bumping him with his head. When Lawson looked down at the dog, he realized Hero was looking out for him again. He didn’t require a rescue, but sometimes it seemed that Hero needed to offer his services anyway.

The dog would have been a godsend on some of his trips.

So many people wounded, emotionally and physically hurt. In utter despair. Alone. In one way, it had reminded him of the place he’d escaped. Not a disaster zone, but devastated all the same.

Berkley stepped closer and put a small hand to his chest.

Talk about a touch centering someone. She brought his focus back to the present in an instant. Covering her hand with his own, he continued. “The heat was nearly unbearable, but seeing the people who searched the rubble was worse. Most of us worked sixteen hours straight. And even then, no one wanted to quit.” He curled his fingers around hers. “Swear, I didn’t even know I was sick until suddenly things were swirling around me, and two of the other guys caught me. It was like my legs just came out from under me.”

With a small sound, Berkley stepped even closer, her slim arms going around him in a tight hug, her cheek to his chest.

His heart thundered. Until this moment, she hadn’t been keen on touching, and now here she was, wrapped around him—to give him comfort.

She and Hero had a lot in common.

At first he was stiff, his arms held out to his sides, as he decided how to react. The very last thing he’d ever want to do was spook her, or take things too far too fast. But she held on, and his basic nature took over.

Gathering her closer, he pressed his mouth to the top of her head and murmured, “Hey, I was fine. Just a touch of heat exhaustion.” To distract her, he said, “You’re spooking the dog.”

Making a gruff sound, she tilted back to see his face. Smile gentle and gaze warm, she said, “There’s no such thing as a touch of it. Heat exhaustion is serious.”

How was it that even now, while under the weather and extra messy, she became more beautiful to him? “The guys dragged me inside and one of the women there tended me.”

Her brows hitched up. “Oh? How so?”

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that part. Trying to skim over it, he said, “You know, cool drink, cool cloth, stuff like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Stepping out of his embrace and crossing her arms, she asked, “So you’re standing there—”

“More like lying there. On the couch.” His mouth twitched. It was kind of fun, seeing this side of Berkley. “I guess the first thing with heat exhaustion is to elevate your legs. The guys seemed to know what to do. One of them stripped off my boots and socks.” His shirt, too, though he wouldn’t share that...at least not yet. “She got me the wet cloth and the drink.”

Tipping up her chin to eye him critically, she said, “So there you are, sweaty feet exposed, probably overflowing her couch—”

“Definitely overflowing, but it worked because my calves were on the arm of the couch, raised up some.”

“—and she just hands you the cloth?”

With an exaggerated wince, he said, “Okay, so I was pretty limp, even dizzy, you know?”

New concern brought her closer again, but this time she didn’t hug him.

“Louann helped me.”

“By wiping you down?”

“Yeah.”

“Just your face?” she asked skeptically.

She was so damn cute, Lawson couldn’t help but grin. “Actually, my face, throat, chest and arms. I was sweating like a pig, my head was pounding, and I felt like I might chuck. She kept wetting the rag and using it all over me, even my stomach and then my feet. Louann said it was the best way to help, that she needed to cool my body temperature. Every so often, she had me drink more water, but she had to help me with that, too.”

Still concerned, but also clearly irked, Berkley said, “I’m imagining her as a shapely, beautiful woman fawning over you.”

With a laugh, Lawson gave in to impulse and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Louann was a stout fifty-five-year-old nurse who traveled with my boss everywhere he went. They’d been life partners for over thirty years.”

“Oh.”

“She treated all of us like boys, bossing us around whenever she felt like it, randomly spritzing us with sunscreen or demanding we chug down a sports drink. In a lot of ways, she was the unofficial mom of the group.”

“See, now I like her.”

He laughed again. “She kept me down for the rest of that day and part of the next, checking my temperature and forcing me to take it easy.” He remembered those days with a mix of fondness and despair. “I wanted to be out there, doing my part, but I knew she was right. Two other guys got sick, and one ended up in the hospital with heatstroke. Louann had her hands full on that trip.”

“It sounds like she was an important part of the group.”

“Definitely.” Other partners had traveled along, and oftentimes they’d pitched in where they could, but they weren’t as vital as Louann. “Nothing draws people together like a common cause, with everyone doing what they can during a tragedy. Unfortunately, there’d been too many times we couldn’t help. Too many deaths, too many left homeless.”

“You can’t do everything,” she said.

A perfect segue for him to make his point. He cupped her face in his hands and bent his knees to look her in the eyes. “Same goes for you, Berkley. You’re one person. You can only do so much. This town, the people who live here, they want to help. They’re proud of the shelter, and proud to have you running it. It’s like an accomplishment for them. Let them do their part.” He leaned in to stress his point. “Let them feel useful.”

Sudden applause had them both turning. Betty sat at the side of the couch, a little more disheveled than usual, grinning widely. “Hear, hear! Perfectly said, Lawson. No one should discount such wise sentiments. I have a feeling that soon your volunteer sign-up sheets will be full, and you’ll have more help than you need.”

Berkley collapsed against Lawson with a laugh.

Looping his arms around her, he thought that this could become a thing...and he wouldn’t mind at all.

“You’re ganging up on me, so I have to give in.” She didn’t let him hold her long before she straightened again and smiled. “Thank you. Both of you. You make Cemetery even better, when I hadn’t thought that was possible.”