4. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Christian
T he grocery store on Main Street felt a bit different from the ones in the big cities I’d visited. Small-town stores always had a feeling about them—like a new friend might be around the corner of each aisle.
Dillon McKay was cute in a boy-next-door kind of way. His eyes assessed me as I explained the reason for my visit. “So, Andrew at the Blue Star Diner mentioned you might be hiring.”
“A stock-person position. Well, I’d say stock boy , but that’s not inclusive because I’d hire a competent woman just as much as I’d hire a guy. But you?” He scratched his chin. “Your résumé doesn’t exactly scream I’m good at stocking shelves. ”
I considered his words. “I’m excellent at completing tasks in a rapid manner. I’m good at taking directions and following them precisely. I’m a hard worker, and I’ll never let you down. ”
“Those are, uh, big promises.” He eyed me with those penetrating gray-colored eyes that went adorably with his ash-blond hair. Like he was trying to see my sincerity. To test my veracity. To determine if I was good to my word. “And you can’t provide references?”
“That’s tough.” I wrinkled my nose. “I left the family firm in…a bit of a hurry. Not that I’d ever do that to you,” I rushed to add.
“Just my friend Noah decided he needed a fresh start, and he chose Foggy Basin. I decided instead of being a corporate lackey for the rest of my life that I’d follow him.
The family firm will remain standing whether I’m there or not.
” At least I hope it will. Bit of challenge with my family’s finances, but that’s not my problem.
I offered up what Noah always called my winning smile.
“Sure, we can give this a try. It’s a physically demanding job.”
“I’ve never backed down from something that might be hard. I just need a job.”
Dillon held out his hand.
I put my hand in his. Strong grip. But not overpowering. The guy was objectively attractive, but I didn’t feel any spark. Nope, that gnawing feeling of need was only ever for Noah.
Thirty minutes later, after having completed all the necessary paperwork, I had a job with a nametag and an apron. Also, I had a schedule for the next week—working Tuesday to Saturday. Kind of sucked that I’d be working for part of the weekend, but Noah might not be working regular hours anyway.
I’d barely stepped outside when Noah pounced.
Metaphorically—not literally.
“You’ll never guess what happened.”
I put my sunglasses on and considered wandering toward the car, but my friend’s enthusiasm clearly couldn’t be contained. “Honestly, Noah, I wouldn’t even know where to begin guessing. ”
“Well, I drove to the feed store—just outside of town. They sell dog food.” He gestured to the grocery store. “Way more than their collection.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to assume you weren’t buying dog food for us.”
“Duh, no.” His dark-brown eyes sparkled.
“Tell me.” Truthfully, when he was this happy, I was content to just let him bask in whatever had brought on this euphoria.
Because life always came crashing down on him.
Just an inevitability that I hated for him.
Just once—just one single time—I wished nothing bad would happen to him.
That his happiness just went on and on and on.
But that wasn’t how life worked. Usually, for him, things crashed when he started dating some loser who eventually broke his heart.
“I met a lady with a puppy.” He vibrated with excitement.
“Okay.” The trajectory of this conversation was becoming clear.
“And she was complaining she couldn’t find a trainer in town.”
“And of course you offered her a business card.”
“Yep.” A grin split his face. “Labrador puppy.”
“That sounds great. Will she be coming—”
“And she’s in a group chat with the owners of the other ten puppies from the litter.”
I did some quick—and very simple—math in my head. “Eleven puppies?”
“Yep.” He grinned. “And the owners are from as far as Sacramento, Miller’s Point, and Hartsville—but they’re all looking for a good trainer. Somehow, in five minutes, she got eight of them to agree to come out to our place on Sunday afternoons at noon for group lessons starting next weekend.”
Again, I did the math in my head. Nine puppies times a minimum of eight weeks and— “Oh, wow.”
“Yeah!” He grabbed me and pulled me into a hug.
I went willingly.
“That will cover all of my startup expenses with some money left for household expenses. This is huge.”
He wasn’t kidding.
“And I explained how I did puppy, beginner, advanced, tricks, and therapy-dog classes. Glynnis said she wanted all five. She visits a nursing home in Hartsville, and the therapy dog who used to visit retired.” He let me go suddenly—as if suddenly realizing he still held me.
I felt bereft, but kept that feeling to myself. “And…?”
“She adopted the puppy with the hopes of eventually training it to be a therapy dog. Now, Bear’s got some attitude—”
“Bear?”
“Right? Anyway, he’s already headstrong, and he’s only thirteen weeks. I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Noah preferred when people rescued dogs instead of buying puppies from breeders, but he wasn’t about to turn down the kind of paid work being presented to him.
“When are they coming? We’ll need to make sure we’ve got the training pen set up.”
“A week from Sunday. So, we’ve got a bit of time.” He closed his eyes and blew out a breath of what I knew was frustration. “I didn’t even ask how you did.” He met my gaze.
I gestured toward where he’d parked “Because your news is far more important. I got the job, and I start Tuesday morning.”
“Tuesday?”
“I work Tuesday through Saturday.”
“Oh good.”
I stopped. “Huh? ”
“You’ll be around to help with the puppies.”
That hadn’t occurred to me. He was always so competent, I assumed he could just do everything himself. “Right, of course.”
“And there might be one more thing.”
Apparently we’d moved off my job, which was just fine. Stocking shelves and occasionally covering the till wasn’t all that impressive anyway—even if the job was going to be my first that I didn’t get by nepotism. “Yep?”
“We might be going to meet a guy named Paxton.”
I squinted. “Am I supposed to know who Paxton is?”
“Nope. But he had a flyer up in the feed store. He found a dog on his property, like, a month ago. He’s been trying to find the owner, with no luck. The sheriff confirmed, since Paxton’s done his due diligence in trying to find the owner, that he’s free to re-home the dog.”
I arched an eyebrow. “So, we’re taking…”
“Stormy.”
“Stormy off of Paxton’s hands?”
“He swears she’s a really well-behaved dog.
He’d love to keep her, but he’s got three of his own and a large farm to run.
He thinks that might be why she was dumped on his property.
The vet, Dr. Malcolm Jones, checked. No microchip or tattoo.
He figured she’s about nine months old. She likely got bigger than the owners expected, and that’s why they dumped her. ”
“Because why turn a dog over to a shelter and answer all those embarrassing questions when you can just dump a dog in some random farmer’s field?”
Noah nodded. “Pretty much.”
“Okay. So what do we need to get?”
He cocked his head. “I might’ve stocked up with everything, and it’s in the SUV. ”
Because of course he did. He’d know I wasn’t going to say no. And since I wasn’t, his exuberance wasn’t an issue. “You have the address for the farmer?”
“Yep. He’s expecting us.”
“Well let’s not keep the gentleman waiting, then.”
We resumed our walk.
Suddenly, Noah stopped.
I halted as well, turning to face him. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t ask.”
I grinned. “I know you didn’t. Because you didn’t need to.
Of course I was going to say yes . I’ll always say yes .
” I stepped into his personal space—which I could only get away with because of our long familiarity with each other.
“I’ll never deny you anything, Noah. Well, within reason.
Now come along—we have a dog to rescue.”