Chapter 27 #2
He bit his lip. He shouldn’t say it. He didn’t need another project. But he needed her help, and she deserved to have the right equipment.
“Let me take a look at them.”
“Really?” Her eyes lit up.
He nodded. “I’ll come over, and you can tell me what you need to do your job. We’ll figure something out.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have a million commissions. Besides, I’m not sure that I can afford you.”
“You can’t. But I’ll give you a steep discount in exchange for your sage fundraising wisdom.”
“Deal.” She extended a hand over the skillet, and he shook it.
“Now hurry up and eat before it gets cold,” she said.
“This is delicious,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of meatballs.
“Thanks. I, uh, shied away from cream and butter for a long time. Saturated fats, or whatever. But the reality is, something’s going to kill me eventually. It might as well be butter.”
“Agreed,” he said, shoveling another forkful.
It should have been awkward. They’d put their mouths on each other, and neither one of them was talking about it.
But this time, Cassie was letting it go.
Maybe she wasn’t interested in him anymore.
Maybe his breath had tasted like beef jerky.
Or maybe she had gotten the hint that he wasn’t a man anyone should fall in love with.
He compartmentalized all these thoughts and focused on the dinner. If she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t either. They could pretend it never happened. Even though he could still feel her hip dimples under his fingertips.
When they finished, he cleared their plates and washed them in the sink—his mother had drilled into him to always be a helpful guest.
“Okay, fire up that laptop,” she said, stretching luxuriously. He turned away so he wouldn’t get distracted.
“Prepare to be inundated with great ideas,” she added.
She pitched things at him for over an hour. Some were good, some were a stretch.
His fingers froze on the keyboard. “Really? Do people even care about social media anymore?”
“I guarantee they do. It would be easy—some videos of the tigers or otters playing, fun facts. And if you would be willing to put yourself on camera, Willow Bend would go viral.”
Over his dead body.
“I’m not doing that.”
“I’m telling you. You’re superhot.”
Oh?
“Put on some short shorts, trim a tree shirtless,” she continued. “I can see the hashtags already. Zoo Daddy,” she said with her hands spread wide.
“No. Next.”
“Your website is from 1995. You need to have a better way for people to make donations online, and you should be selling branded merch for visibility. I guarantee there’s a graphic artist out there who would mock up a couple designs at a discount.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“Put one of your volunteers on it. Next,” she said, talking over his protests, “I’ve already reached out to the local TV station and newspapers. A reporter will be coming on Sunday before opening to do a spot on the animals, so we’ll want to make sure everything is shipshape.”
“You could’ve led with that,” he said. His mind spiraled.
The entire shelter needed a going-over. There were signs to repaint, weeding to be done, paths to maintain. She’d just delivered a huge project that he didn’t have time for.
“I’ve organized a few volunteers to help spruce things up, so don’t bite my head off,” she said. “They’re coming Saturday night after closing. And besides, you asked for my help.”
He pounded on his keyboard a little more dramatically than was necessary.
“What do you think your biggest challenge is?” she asked.
“Honestly, the winter. We close down after Halloween and have essentially no income for five months.”
She leaned back in her chair and appeared to be thinking hard. “Okay, so you need to diversify a little. Offer ethical pet boarding services. Host a Christmas craft fair. Pet pictures with Santa. Educational workshops. Homeschool group activities.”
She paused to take a breath. “And you really should have a newsletter or some kind of Patreon tier system. Let people sponsor an exhibit and put their name on a plaque for a year. Even an online wish list for toys and enrichment items for the animals. I guarantee people are going to want to help. You just have to let them.”
“This is turning into another full-time job.”
She leaned forward. “Do you want to save this sanctuary or not?”
“Fine,” he said.
“Say it with me,” she said. “Sleep is for the weak.”
“Sleep is for the weak,” he echoed.
A yawn racked his body, immediately betraying him.
“Maybe we should wrap this up?” she said. “It’s getting late, and I have a dead mom’s journal to obsess over.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
He was clearly dismissed. Noah stood and pushed his chair in. “Well, thank you for all the ideas. Even though they’re a pain in the ass.”
“A pain in the ass that’s going to save the sanctuary,” she said, darting into the kitchen. She came back a second later with Tupperware. “Here.” She handed it to him, and their fingers brushed.
The vibes changed in an instant.
“You don’t need to give me the leftovers.”
“I have too many,” she explained. “I…made a test batch yesterday. To make sure I didn’t ruin anything. Besides, you can’t subsist on protein shakes and takeout.”
“Thank you,” he said. And when he was done, he could use the excuse of returning the Tupperware to speak to her again. Not that he wanted to or anything.
His gaze drifted to the alluring curve of her lips. Tension slipped into the room like a change in barometric pressure.
She looked at him. He looked at her.
Oh, shit. Don’t do it, idiot. Leave the poor girl alone. Curb your selfish impulses.
But she was so beautiful. And like it or not, he couldn’t just pretend that she was any old neighbor anymore. She’d been integrated into his life, strand by strand. He knew it was wrong for both of them, but he wasn’t in control anymore.
His heart beat in his ears as he took a step, then another. Their eyes were locked.
He reached for her hand but was interrupted by an ear-splitting crash and abrupt darkness.
He jumped between Cassie and the noise. She screeched, and when he glanced behind him to check on her, she was cradling Taco like an overgrown toddler.
Noah squinted through the newfound darkness to spy what looked like a dark, jagged hole in the ceiling where the chandelier used to be.
“Did you…hang the chandelier by yourself, by chance?”
“Shut up,” she said.
There was another creak, and the table they had just eaten dinner on slanted to the right, then collapsed into a heap.
Well, at least they hadn’t done anything stupid.