Читать книгу Not Just The Girl Next Door - Stacy Connelly, Stacy Connelly - Страница 9

Chapter One

Mollie McFadden scooted closer to the good-looking guy in the corner. “Hey, handsome. How’d a fellow like you end up in a place like this?”

Soulful brown eyes glanced in her direction, then quickly away, but Mollie didn’t let that deter her. She had a reputation for winning over strong, silent types. “I bet you’ve got a story to tell, don’t you?”

Again a slight flicker of eyelids, this time followed by a big sigh.

“A heartbreaking one, too, huh?” She inched a little closer but kept her hands to herself even though her heart ached to offer the comfort he obviously craved. “Bet you’re feeling lost and abandoned and alone.”

Her pulse skipped a beat as he shifted. He might have simply been looking for a more comfortable position, but she didn’t miss how he settled a little closer to her. “But you have to believe things are going to get better.”

He let out a huff that sounded more than a little doubtful. “I’m telling you, it will. Look at all Spring Forest has been through in the last few months, including a tornado, of all things!”

Maybe she was reading too much into body language, but Mollie swore a slight shudder ran through his solid frame. “The storm was pretty scary, wasn’t it? But in Spring Forest, people really help each other out. You’ll see if you just give us a chance. In fact...” she leaned closer to whisper “...something tells me you might even find your perfect match.”

A pair of dark eyebrows rose at that. “I know, I know. It seems hard to believe now, but I have a good feeling about this.”

And that feeling grew and bloomed and warmed her heart into a melting puddle of goo as the rescue dog named Chief slowly lowered his chin to rest against her jean-clad thigh.

Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on the soft ruff of fur at his neck. “We’re going to find a great home for you.” Though she’d worked with plenty of pound puppies during her years volunteering at the animal shelter, Mollie’s throat clogged with tears as she promised, “The very best home.”

The Whitaker sisters, affectionately known by the nicknames Birdie and Bunny, had asked Mollie to come to the Furever Paws Animal Rescue to meet with Chief. As a dog trainer, she worked with many dogs—from purebreds to shelter mutts. Shy pups like Chief, though, were the ones she had a soft spot for. Most canines were outgoing, adventurous and loving by nature. To see one so trapped by fear, cowering in the back of his kennel, broke her heart.

Adopters were all too likely to pass up diamonds in the rough like Chief. “Not this time, boy,” she promised. “We’re going to break you out of your shell and show the world how fabulous you are.”

Mollie cringed a little at the familiar words. They mirrored the bold, confident vow her friend Amanda Sylvester had made. Only Amanda hadn’t been talking about a four-legged companion. She’d been talking about Mollie.

But Mollie didn’t care about the whole world seeing her as special...just one particular guy who unfortunately only saw her as his best friend’s little sister.

Chief made a small sound, a mix between a whine and a bark, definitely punctuated by a question mark at the end.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” Mollie insisted as she shoved thoughts of her pathetic love life from her mind. “The odds are way more in your favor.”

With his striking black-and-tan coloring, medium build and short fur, Chief had the outward makings of an easily adoptable dog. All he needed was a bit of confidence and adopters would no longer walk by his kennel before he had a chance to catch their eye.

“Something tells me you’re smart, too.” Even though he was a mix, shepherds were generally regarded as one of the most intelligent breeds. “I bet we can even teach you some tricks, like—”

Mollie didn’t get a chance to tell Chief about the joys of fetch. A sudden crash shook the window. With a startled yelp, the dog scrambled to his paws and scurried to his corner.

Mollie glared at the wall as if she could see through to the construction going on outside. She’d asked Birdie to take Chief out of his kennel and into one of the visitation rooms. Though the furnishings were all secondhand donations, the worn brown leather sofas, mismatched end tables and floral area rug had all the touches of a typical living room. Mollie wanted Chief to associate the home-like environment with a safe and happy place.

Something she was going to have an even harder time accomplishing now. Mollie took a deep breath and forced her own tense muscles to relax. Getting frustrated wouldn’t help. She often felt her own dog, Arti, could tell what kind of a day she’d had before she even walked through the door and kicked off her shoes. She didn’t want poor Chief thinking she was upset with him.

But despite her best efforts, the loud noise had erased the small progress she’d made. Curled in the corner with his nose practically tucked behind his hind leg, the dog refused to respond.

Swallowing her disappointment, but reminding herself that changing behavior took time, she slipped from the room and walked down the long hallway toward the main lobby. Thanks to a recent fund-raiser, the Whitaker sisters had plans to spruce up the small space, including updating the furniture and adding some color to the plain beige walls and a new stain treatment to the concrete floors.

For now, the main bright spot was the small gift shop off to the side where a rainbow of leashes and collars lined the walls in a variety of styles and sizes. The store also offered a selection of bowls and toys and beds. Everything an adopter might need when taking home a new furry friend.

One of the shelter volunteers was working the front desk, phone tucked against her shoulder as she jotted some notes. “I’m sorry, can you say that again?” the girl asked, pressing her free hand against her ear as the high-pitched whine of a saw filled the air.

Mollie pushed one of the glass doors open and stepped out onto the front porch. The scent of freshly cut wood drifted on the midmorning breeze, and she followed the strident, no-nonsense sound of Birdie Whitaker’s voice around the side of the building. The sixtysomething shelter co-owner, dressed in a denim jumpsuit over a long-sleeved blue T-shirt, was known for working twice as hard as most people half her age.

“Is everything okay?” Mollie asked after the woman finished her conversation with the construction foreman.

Birdie shook her head. “I can’t wait for these repairs to be over. I hope the work will start to speed up now that Rebekah’s applied for a grant,” she said, speaking of the shelter’s new director.

The brown roof and dark gray siding weren’t much to look at, but the prominently displayed logo—the silhouette of a dog and a cat within a large heart—spoke to the shelter’s main purpose. And, as always, Birdie focused on what mattered most. “We hope to use that money to expand the kennels so we can house more animals, plus create an outdoor space for the cats and a dog run.”

“The changes are going to be a huge benefit to the shelter,” Mollie agreed. And, more importantly, to the animals. Birdie and Bunny were such amazing advocates for the furry friends in their care—always striving to treat them as potential pets rather than as unwanted strays.

“But now for the reason why I asked you to come to Furever Paws today. What do you think about Chief?”

“He’s such a sweet dog, but he’s so skittish.” After explaining her minor success with the dog and then Chief’s reaction to the noise outside, Mollie asked, “Is there anyone here he’s bonded with?”

If ever a dog needed a foster home, it was Chief. Between the volunteers and a stream of adopters coming through, not to mention the varied mix of other animals, shelters could be stressful. Add in the construction noise, and kennel life had to be terrifying for the poor dog.

“Well,” the older woman mused, “there is someone.” Spotting another volunteer walking up the gravel parking lot with a gorgeous yellow Lab, Birdie said, “Excuse me for one moment.”

After speaking to the young woman, Birdie returned to Mollie’s side. “Come with me. There’s something you should see.”

Leading the way back down the hall toward the visitation room, Birdie stopped at the large viewing window. As she stepped up to the glass, Mollie looked for Chief in his corner, but the dog wasn’t there. Instead, he was sitting in the middle of the room, gazing adoringly at a gorgeous blonde.

“He doesn’t even look like the same dog,” Mollie said, amazed by the change in his demeanor. Though his ears were still back and his head bowed in typical submissive behavior, Chief had stopped shaking. She might have even seen a hint of a tail wag across the linoleum floor. “Who is that in there with him?”

Birdie grinned. “That is Charlie.”

“Charlie.” Mollie took a closer look at the large dog circling the room with her nose pressed to the ground and her tail swishing through the air. “Isn’t she the dog Claire and Matt were considering for his niece before Ellie ended up falling in love with Sparkle?”

Claire Asher, a teacher at the local middle school and fellow volunteer, had recently gotten engaged to her one-time high school sweetheart, Matt Fielding. The two of them had reunited while helping Ellie train Sparkle.

“Yes. Matt’s sister wanted a smaller dog. I’m starting to think that might be just as well, seeing how Chief is so attached to Charlie. Bunny is hoping we can find someone to adopt them as a pair, but with larger dogs, that’s not as likely.”

Adopting them out together would be ideal. So, too, would fostering them as a pair. Not that Mollie had arrived at the shelter with any intention of fostering Chief. She was supposed to be there only to offer her assessment. But hadn’t she known within minutes of meeting the shy dog that the shelter wasn’t the best place for him? As she watched Charlie lower her chest almost to the floor with her tail wagging wildly behind her in a classic play bow, Mollie knew having the happy-go-lucky Lab on her side would make working with Chief much easier.

Mollie sighed. She’d never been able to turn away from a dog in need. She smiled in memory of her first dog, Shadow. Her parents had never allowed animals in the house, so the stray that she and Zeke Harper rescued had ended up living at his house a few doors down. Mollie had spent almost as much time over at the Harpers’ as she had at her own home.

Of course, not all of that had been about spending time with Shadow...

Pushing the thought from her mind, Mollie turned her focus to the shy shepherd. “Chief needs a quieter environment and to spend one-on-one time with a human to get over his fear.”

“So you’ll take them—I mean, him,” Birdie corrected quickly.

But Mollie wasn’t fooled. Knowing it had likely been the older woman’s plan all along, she sighed. “I’ll take them both.”

* * *

Mollie knew she’d made the right decision as soon as she loaded Charlie and Chief into her SUV. Chief balked when she led him toward the back hatch, lowering his head and thrashing against the leash. Mollie had anticipated having to struggle to get the good-sized dog into one of the crates she’d borrowed from the shelter. Charlie, however, sailed over the lowered tailgate and settled right in. Clearly afraid of being left behind, Chief followed suit.

“You’re going to be my right-hand dog, aren’t you, Charlie?” Mollie asked as she left Spring Forest behind and headed toward the rural outskirts north of the small North Carolina town.

Four years ago, when Mollie had been looking for a home of her own, she’d known she wanted a place in the country. Dog training could be on the noisy side, and she hadn’t wanted any next-door neighbors to complain. Plus, she knew she’d need plenty of outdoor space for distance training as well as agility work.

Her tiny house on its large lot was perfect.

She wrinkled her nose a little at the thought. Okay, it was perfect for the dogs. She still had some work to do—maybe even a lot of work to do—before the place would be perfect for her. And she really did have a plan for the needed repairs and improvements and upgrades. Somehow, though, time tended to get away from her, which led to dozens of half-finished projects and an overwhelming number of idea boards on Pinterest.

“Don’t you worry, though,” she told the dogs. “You guys come first.”

She’d get around to those repairs soon enough and—

Mollie braked a bit harder than she’d intended as she caught sight of a familiar sleek black sedan parked off to the side of her house. Her heart instantly skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected to see Zeke today. She’d texted him after Birdie asked her to swing by the shelter. So for him to show up unannounced, at a time when he knew she wouldn’t be around, only meant one thing.

Her pulse picked up as she opened the driver-side door, and Mollie had to remind herself that she was annoyed with him. How many times did they have to have this conversation?

“Hey, Moll.” Walking around the side of her house like he owned it, Zeke Harper greeted her with a smile. “How did it go at the shelter?”

Mollie tried to glare at him. She really did. But as he lifted a muscled arm to wipe the sheen of sweat off his forehead, annoyance wasn’t exactly the emotion sending a blast of heat through her body. Dressed in a navy T-shirt and well-worn jeans with—heaven help her—a leather tool belt around his narrow hips, Zeke Harper looked more like the hot host of a DIY show than like the respected psychologist he was.

Trying to keep her voice, her blood pressure and her hormones from blasting sky high, she asked, “What are you doing here, Zeke?”

He hitched a thumb over one broad shoulder. “I thought I’d get a jump on replacing those rotted steps on the back porch.” A smile he didn’t try all that hard to hide tugged at his lips. “You were off to such a good start, tearing them out like you did.”

Mollie’s face heated. She’d felt quite proud of herself as she’d torn out the rotting wood steps, risers and stringers. Since then, she’d made several unsuccessful attempts at cutting the new stringers but could never quite get the angle right. So she had moved on to another project and contented herself with knowing she was getting her lunge work in every time she came in from the backyard.

“I was going to finish them,” she said.

“Sure you were, kid,” Zeke said happily as he threw an arm around her shoulders. “But what are friends for?”

Mollie cringed a little, enough so Zeke noticed and quickly removed his arm. “Sorry, I guess I am kind of sweaty.”

“You know I’m not afraid to get dirty,” Mollie challenged.

As their gazes met, for a brief second the atmosphere around them seem to change, to shimmer with an electric charge like the air right before a storm. His hazel eyes, normally so full of teasing and laughter, darkened, and Mollie’s heart fluttered in her chest.

But then he blinked, and whatever she thought she’d seen disappeared. “You had a three foot drop-off at the edge of the porch. That’s not safe.”

Overprotective concern. Now that emotion she immediately recognized and the curious flutter sank to her stomach like a stone.

Kid, she reminded herself as she swallowed hard. Friend. That was how Zeke thought of her. The little sister he’d never wanted.

He had teasingly dubbed her with the title long ago, and even though she’d never thought of him as a big brother, a part of her clung to the designation like a shield. Anything to keep the man she’d fallen in love with years ago from ever learning about her hopeless crush.

“You could at least wait for me to ask for help first,” she argued.

“I would.” He pinned her with a knowing look. “But you never ask.”

Maybe she did have a habit of digging deeper when she was already in over her head. But she wasn’t a kid anymore, and the woman in Mollie longed for the day when Zeke Harper would see her as someone other than his best friend’s little sister...always in need of rescue.