Chapter 21 #5
When they reached the Fetch a Friend booth, both were out of breath, heaving with excitement—and their hands were still entwined.
Devon hadn’t moved from her seat at the table, but her expression had shifted. She was squinting at Tobin’s disheveled appearance, the curious twitch of her lips deepening as her eyes flicked to their clasped hands.
“You missed me so much you had to literally run back to tell me?” Devon quipped, her eyes ping-ponging between Tobin and Grier, the corners of her mouth twitching with poorly concealed amusement.
Anchor approached the table before Tobin could deliver the snarky comeback dancing on the tip of her tongue.
“Tobin? What’s going on? Are you okay?” “Camps,” Tobin panted, still catching her breath.
Anchor looked at her, then to Devon—searching for answers she wouldn’t find—and finally back to Tobin.
“Camps?”
Tobin took a deep breath, trying to fill her lungs with enough air to satisfy their craving and deliver her pitch.
“Children’s camps,” Grier said, her voice calm and clear beside
her.
Tobin’s head whipped to look at Grier—composed, radiant,
and maddeningly not winded from their sprint across the market.
Swimming does more for her than just make her body look good, Tobin thought wryly.
Tobin was enamored by Grier’s willingness to jump into the conversation—despite not knowing Anchor or Devon, and without fully understanding the direness of the situation.
But she had Tobin’s back, and that filled her with a warmth she couldn’t quite put into words.
Not that she had the breath for the words, anyway.
She gave Grier’s hand a grateful squeeze, encouraging her to continue.
Grier’s eyes twinkled with understanding.
“You could host children’s camps this summer.
It would bring in some income, plus provide extra hands around the kennels.
You get the money and the help, families get an activity for their kids.
The kids learn the benefits of volunteering, you might gain a larger pool of volunteers, and you may even adopt out a few dogs. ”
Tobin beamed. She knew she hadn’t said any of that aloud while weaving through the crowded market. Yet somehow Grier had pieced it all together—practically reading her damn mind—and extracted her thoughts, verbatim, delivering them eloquently to a thoroughly stunned Anchor and Devon.
Anchor and Devon looked at each other with a silent communication reminiscent of the sibling synchronicity she shared with Harrow—and what she’d witnessed between Grier and Grove several weeks ago.
A series of furrowed brows, puckered lips, and squinted eyes unfolded until Devon shrugged and Anchor released a surrendering sigh.
She turned back to Tobin and Grier, shaking her head as if to rattle through her own thoughts.
“I’m sorry—um, who are you?” Anchor directed her question at Grier, who immediately extended her hand.
“I’m guessing you’re Anchor. I’m Grier. Good to meet you!” Grier said with confidence, standing tall in front of the booth— completely unaware of Tobin’s quiet admiration as she caught her breath from their mad dash.
Anchor shook her hand, then anxiously tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, a nervous gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.
Tobin could tell she was still uncertain, but also how desperately she wanted this to work.
Tobin wanted it to work, too. Fetch a Friend had come to mean more to her than just the volunteer hours with the dogs.
That sensation of sisterly protectiveness had settled in—and she wanted to see Anchor succeed.
“Grier was telling me how her niece has a habit of bringing home stray animals, which can be a bit of a burden on her family. Assuming she’s not the only kid in the area with that instinct, hosting a camp or two this summer could buy us some time—and bring in enough income to work toward a more permanent solution. ”
Devon stood and disappeared into the back of the booth, while Anchor took her place, silently pondering her options.
“I’m not opposed to it,” she said slowly. “But how do we convince people to pay for a camp where their kids do the kind of work most people volunteer for? It literally doesn’t add up.”
“You’d be teaching them pet care,” Tobin offered. “Maybe even animal first-aid. You’d be giving them responsibility for the dogs. That’s more than volunteering—it’s education.”
As if she needed another example of how seamlessly she and Grier complemented each other, Grier met her rebuttal with one of her own.
“Also, don’t disregard the fact that you’re doing some of these families a favor—providing adult supervision and a break from technology during their kids’ summer vacations.
Don’t underestimate what value that provides. ”
Anchor rubbed her forehead and grimaced, still trying to make the math make sense. “I’d need adult volunteers at the kennel that week. There’s no way I can monitor all the kids and dogs alone…”
“You know I’ll be there when I’m not working,” Tobin offered. “I’m happy to be trained as a volunteer, too,” Grier added. “I’ve
got some PTO to burn—I’d be happy to take a few days off to help out.”
Grier’s selflessness filled Tobin with a deep sense of admiration. The world needed more Griers—but she was so grateful this Grier was hers. That thought made her heart skip a beat. She squeezed Grier’s hand, still entwined with her own, mooring herself to the woman by her side.
“You don’t even know me—or Fetch a Friend. Why are you so willing to help?” Anchor looked at Grier, disbelieving.
“Actually, I do know Fetch a Friend. My brother adopted our family dog from your rescue—for my niece. Lake has been an absolute blessing to our family. So I’ve got just as much of an investment in your continued success as any of your volunteers.”
“I remember Lake!” Anchor’s face lit up. “I’m so glad she’s doing well and found a good home—and that she’s inspired your brilliant idea!”
Devon returned then, an expensive camera system strung around her neck. “So, does that mean we have a solution?” she asked, affectionately bumping her shoulder against Anchor’s.
“We have a lot of planning to do. And quickly—summer’s already started, some of these kids are probably booked with other activities,” Anchor said, her eyes clouding over as her brain processed a new, urgent to-do list.
“Let’s get some pics of the booth, and I’ll grab fresh ones at the kennel when we get back.
” Devon patted the camera swinging from her neck.
“We can print flyers, do an email blast to your volunteers and vendors, and roll out a couple of social media campaigns. It won’t take long to get the word out. ”
Anchor hugged her friend in excitement. “I’m so lucky to have a built-in photographer and marketing specialist in you!”
“That you are,” Devon retorted, fiddling with the camera’s preview screen. She pushed her lips to the side as she reviewed some old photos. Tobin could practically see the girl thinking before Devon said, “What about a float?”
“You’re speaking my language,” Grier jumped in. “I love root beer floats—but I don’t see the relevance to the resc…”
Her words trailed off, and she slowly cocked her head in contemplation.
“Wrong kind of float—” Devon began to explain, but Grier’s excitement interjected. Her head whipped back to center as she turned to Anchor, then to Devon, and finally landed on Tobin.
“Vinny’s! We could do a fundraiser at Vinny’s—pizzas, floats, maybe a silent auction. He’d love it, I’m sure!”
“I was thinking about a float in the Pride Parade next month,” Devon said, finally getting a word in—though there was an edge of hurt in her voice. “But your idea is cool, too.”
“Why settle for one float when you can have both?” Anchor offered, saving the moment before it soured. “Let’s do a parade float and a fundraiser. The more we’re in the community, the better.”
Devon shrugged, still obviously hurt that her idea had once again been overshadowed by Grier.
“I could donate a photo shoot,” she offered quietly.
“That’s a great idea, Devon!” Anchor said, snatching her into a grateful side-hug.
“I’m sure Eddie would co-sponsor a float—and cover the cost,” Tobin added.
“You could call it Ruffs and Rescuers!” Grier exclaimed, her voice bright with excitement.
Tobin couldn’t help smiling at her enthusiasm. “I bet I can get her to donate a VIP helo-tour, too.”
“Does the highest bidder get to choose what uniform you wear?” Grier asked—more emphatically than Tobin had expected.
Anchor’s eyes went wide as she turned to Tobin, clearly unsure how to interpret the question. Tobin felt a wave of heat rise in her cheeks, starting low and climbing from somewhere far more sinful than her face.
Grier turned to her, her excitement quickly melted into concern as she read read the hesitation in Tobin’s posture and expression.
“I mean,” she said gently, “I’m planning to bid the hell out of that, but I’d like to envision my winnings ahead of time…”
Tobin stood frozen as Grier’s eyes unfocused, a dreamy haze dulling the usual bright amber as her fantasies took root. Her voice deepened and hushed, “You in your flight suit… a bomber jacket… your captain’s hat and tie…”
She drifted off, lost to her imagination.
Grier’s eyes suddenly brightened, locking on Tobin with laser- like intensity. Tobin knew—knew—that Grier was undressing her with her eyes. The dark ring of amber iris roiled around her shrunken pupils.
Fuck, if that didn’t turn her on. This woman could undress her with her eyes any time—as long as she was willing to finish the job with her hands behind a closed door at their first opportunity.
She needed to get them home. Now.
Tobin was pulled from her thoughts by Devon’s not-so-subtle stage whisper to Anchor, “I knew there was something going on with them!”
Tobin ignored her and returned her gaze to Grier.
“Y—yeah. Okay. That sounds… fun?” she choked, her throat dry from the emotional rollercoaster she was riding.
Grier looked at her quizzically, tilting her head in mock confusion. Tobin lifted her chin, finding her resolve. “Yes.”
Anchor started chuckling—then derailed into a full-blown cackle. Tears streamed down her face as she looked from Tobin to Devon, finally settling on Grier.
Everyone looked at her with concern. “Wh—what? How?
Why?” she squeaked between breaths.
Anchor wiped her eyes, still laughing, and managed a single word that explained everything: “What?” Her voice was laden with humorous disbelief and the weary acceptance of someone who’d finally stopped fighting the chaos around her.
They all broke into laughter together.
“This is the first time I’ve had hope in months,” Anchor said finally, her voice quivering with emotion. “Thank you—all of you!”
Tobin pulled Grier to her side in a one-armed hug and pressed a proud kiss to the top of her head.
Then, in a low whisper meant only for her, she said, “Let’s get your sexy brain back to my place. I don’t have a runway—but I do have the suits you love. And I can give you a show.”