A New Leash on Life (14 page)

She pinched the edges of a story I lived and worried about daily. “I wish I could save them all,” I said. “I wish I could educate more people. I wish puppy mills didn’t exist. I wish pets were spayed and neutered. I wish people would wake up and realize pets are not disposable. They’re family members with as much of a right to exist as their human counterparts.”

“If your shelter goes out of business, all of those poor babies could be killed. That tears me up. I can’t let that happen to them.”

I adored how she referred to them as babies.

I never considered Chloe to be anything more than a pretty cheerleader concerned with doing proper cartwheels and jumps. I never realized she loved animals as much as I did. However, she always did brush Floppy while we watched episodes of
90210,
and Floppy cuddled up to her in the middle of the night instead of me. Whenever we’d go on long walks past the baseball fields, she never failed to stop and pay attention to a dog barking for her, begging for her to pet him and toss a ball. “The way a person treats an animal says a lot about her character.”

She nodded, even blushed, catching the compliment.

I got lost in her smile. Before I knew it, she had reached into her oversized bag and slid an envelope under my fingertips. “I don’t know how much you need. It’s just enough to cover some expenses for now.”

I studied the envelope. “So, how does this work, exactly? Do we agree on an amount and then I pay you back in installments? How long do I get to pay you back? At what interest rate? Are there alternative ways to do these types of transactions like maybe instead of a set amount, you get a percentage of revenue from the clinic visits?”

“No,” she said. “This has nothing to do with my company. This is a personal donation.”

I eyed it, lured by its possibilities. “I can’t accept this. Not from you. It feels like payback and it doesn’t feel right.”

“This isn’t for you.” She punctuated her words. “It’s for all of those adorable babies.” She inched up closer to me, “Besides, it’s a tax write-off for me.” She pushed the envelope into my reluctant fingers.

“So what you’re saying is, I’m really doing you a favor by accepting?” My voice had more flirt to it than I wanted.

“If that’s how you need to look at it, then, sure.” Her fingers lounged a mere inch from mine.

Lured in by what the money could do, I gripped it and sealed my eyes shut in surrender. “Thank you.”

Firm and resolved, she patted my hands. “That’s just to get you started.”

I managed a weak smile to mirror her bright one, feeling a little too much like I had just offered my soul to her for a while. “I appreciate it. I’ll put it to good use, I promise.”

“So, I’m curious how you get funding to keep the doors open.”

“Ah, that’s always a challenge. We’re a small, dedicated team who work our asses off. We don’t take days off. We work constantly. If we’re not treating animals in the walk-in clinic, we’re grooming, socializing, training, or cleaning.” I paused, considering explaining the truth behind my new desperate position. “In the spirit of full disclosure, I was getting a monthly donation check and that stopped. I learned my friend was the donor and she is now losing her house because of her generosity.” I sidestepped Chloe’s large eyes and continued. “Then, there’s the whole fundraising piece. We spend a lot of time organizing events to draw attention to the animals up for adoption and to the shelter’s needs for basic necessities and cash donations. Ideally, I’d love to have more time to educate proactively about adopting shelter dogs, about training so people can learn to handle difficult situations with their pets, and about basic health concerns that are easily treatable. I want to do so much, but I have so little time.”

“And resources,” Chloe finished the sentence for me.

“To say the least.”

“Why do you do all of this? I mean you could be working as a vet, earning a better living. Why take all of this on yourself?”

“Same reason as why you’re here right now. If I relied on others to do this here, some of the greatest animals you could ever meet would’ve never had the chance to play fetch, to go for a run, to brighten up a sick person, the list goes on. We’re the keeper of the keys to their happy lives. It’s a no-brainer for me. I can’t imagine serving in any other capacity. These pets need me. They need my assistants. They need my best friend. They need this shelter and the compassion of others.”

Chloe’s eyes filled. She pulled in her bottom lip, but her chin still trembled. She shook her head. “Wow. You really struck a chord. I mean, what purpose you have in this world. We should all be so fortunate.”

“I do feel blessed by it. Even though it’s tough financially, it’s worth it.”

“It doesn’t have to be so tough financially.”

Always so ideal. “Orphanages have difficult times raising funds.”

She cradled her mug. “Tell you what. I’d like to sit down another time with you and discuss more ways I can help.”

The lid to all I had closed off slowly started to unseal. She reeled me in so easily. “We’ll see.”

“Okay,” she smiled, accepting my reluctance. “Aren’t you even curious how much is in there?”

I wanted to rip it open, but would wait until I privately tucked into my truck. “Any amount is going to be helpful.”

“You mentioned on the news segment that you want to expand?”

“The reporter tossed that in my mouth. That kind of expansion requires more staff, more resources, more funding that’s just not readily available right now. The community is torn up. They’re focusing their money on themselves right now. Justifiably.”

“One of the things I could do is start a charitable trust fund.” Her eyes danced, brimming with shine and life. “The Clark Family Shelter could become a model for a no-kill shelter success, offering education, compassion, and rehabilitation.”

I pictured shiny new kennels, a series of private adoption meet and greet rooms, an expanded medical facility with an additional room for surgeries and a separate one for examinations. I envisioned a classroom for training. My legs bounced. My eyes opened to the bubbly possibilities. I wouldn’t have to stress every month waiting for donations to pour in. I wouldn’t have to charge the electricity bill to the credit card on those months that only had four weeks to them. “Another tax write-off?”

“I’d rather the animals benefit than anyone else.”

I sprang to life, erasing bad memories with endless possibilities.

Chloe’s eyes danced wildly and mine joined in, whipping this way and that, weaving up and down, tangling into a primal beat that revived old memories and sparked new ones.
Why did she have to look so damn sexy?

Accepting that offer would mean she’d own a part of me and we’d forever be cemented together. The void left years ago filled with hope, while my hesitation fought to temper that filling. “I have a lot to consider.”

“Then, let’s start considering,” she said.

I sipped my coffee and tried my best not to appear too committed or too concerned with all of the time we’d have to spend together planning this thing out. She rubbed her hands together like she used to do when ready to tackle something really big, like tell off her stepfather or when she would rally the cheerleaders together to show off to the opposing team. Suddenly, I was transported back to the time when I first learned that simple will alone would not protect me from her power to seduce and stir me.

“How did you get so—” I searched for the right words.

“Wealthy?”

I nodded.

“I didn’t like being a victim or interpreting life through only one lens,” she said, her cheeks, nectarous and full, angled with her words. “So, I opened my eyes widely and latched onto gaining knowledge about the one thing I lacked and that had kept me from being free all along. I studied money.”

I rested on her words, and when Sally delivered our steaming breakfasts, I devoured mine, escaping into the heaps of golden hash browns and gooey egg yolks. “You’re a survivor,” I said, finally breaking my silence.

She wagged her head up and down. “I’ve got a daughter who’s twelve going on twenty. I need to be.”

“Does she look like you?”

“Not at all. She’s way prettier.”

Time was a funny thing. It erased things—things that used to get me up in the middle of the night to throw up, things that caused me to break out into convulsive cries without notice, things that made me state such declarations as ‘never again’ and ‘over my dead body.’ Sitting across from the girl who shoveled dirt onto my life and buried my soul, I realized that I no longer felt pain or revenge for these things. Now, excitement burst in me, excitement for times to come, feelings to explore, and buried moments to dig up. Time glossed over the bad and paved a path for future travel. My hard exterior disintegrated. Now, I sat spooning eggs into my mouth, a naked spirit waiting to be lifted to that level where my toes curled and my heart galloped.

“Is she a cheerleader?”

“Gosh, no.” Chloe laughed. “I’m lucky if I can get her to wear sandals with her school skirts. She’s all about hammering nails into tree houses and building bonfires.”

“I’m happy for you,” I said, lifting the hook off the door to my heart, freeing her from my rage, my confusion, and my hardened spirit.

“Thank you,” she said, stirring her oatmeal. “I just want to forget about the hard feelings if we can and start fresh. I hope you’ll let me to help you.”

I needed her, and this reliance placed me in a strange position far outside comfort. “Under one condition.”

She spooned some oatmeal between her moist lips, the same lips I nibbled on countless times. She wiped her mouth, then asked, “Condition?” She laughed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“We treat this only as it is.”

She cocked her head. “What is it exactly?”

I rose and tossed a twenty down on the table. “Business.”

I left her to her half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and the playful smile resting on her lips. I walked out of the door and to my pickup truck across the street, stepping out strong, confident, and in control of this new situation, and more than a little excited at the prospect of getting to know this new Chloe.

I turned the key and the engine rolled, refusing to turn over fully. I tried again. After five attempts, gasoline stunk up the inside. Chloe turned in my direction, staring straight on. I counted to twenty and tried again. More angst from the tired engine. The truck did this to me every once in a while. My mechanic couldn’t figure out why. Each time it happened, I’d climb out, open the hood, stick a screwdriver in the choke, and start her. I sat for several long minutes pretending to text. Chloe chatted with Sally, sipped more espresso, jotted something down, looked in my direction, and finally got up and headed to the bathroom.

When she disappeared, I jumped out of my truck, screwdriver in hand, and got to work on getting Big Red out of her slump. When I sat back in the driver’s seat and turned the key, she still refused to turn over.

Chloe showed up at my side not long after, strutting her long legs under a short skirt. “Want a lift?”

“I don’t need a lift,” I said. “I climbed out of the seat again and walked back to the hood. I readjusted the screwdriver.

When I came back up, Chloe swayed that sexy look my way, the one where her eyes lowered and her lips curved into a half smile. She moved in closer to me, and with her thumb, rubbed my cheek, not hiding the sultry chuckle playing around inside. “You’ve got some black stuff on your face.”

She smelled like I’d remembered, like fresh flowers on a spring day. She wiped, and I looked down, down past her neckline to the soft curve of her breasts, a view accentuated by her revealing scoop t-shirt. She pulled away. “All gone.”

“Thank you.”

I lingered, allowing the moment to breathe, allowing my senses a chance to catch up with me. I focused back on the problem. “I flooded the fuel injectors and I’ll just have to wait until they’ve dried out.”

“If you’ve got a lighter and something I can take the sparkplug out with, I can show you a neat trick.”

“Something you picked up from my dad?”

We laughed over this.

Sure enough, within ten minutes, burning up the soaked spark plugs with the hungry flame from a simple lighter, Big Red turned over her engine and cooperated. Chloe tapped her hood and dashed off to her Land Rover offering up a wave and a promise to be in touch. As I followed a few car paces behind, I tried feverishly to erase the view of her leaning over the hood of my truck with those long legs and her toned ass, flinging tools around like a girl who knew how to handle a shot of whiskey, a big cigar, and a ratchet wrench, and all while wearing a skirt and heels.

Chapter Nine

Chloe

My secret had marinated for so long that it turned sour. It had grown into a life form all its own, cutting off circulation to neighboring principles, logic, and dignity. At first, the idea of hiding Ayla’s father’s identity from Olivia protected me from having to face the consequences. Slide the secret under the rug, out of sight, out of mind and deal with it later. Of course, when later arrived, this secret had grown too large to bring into the light of day and to smooth over its nutty appearance enough that she wouldn’t be totally shocked. So why not place ourselves somewhere else, in another town altogether?

Coming clean about him could actually affect more than just Olivia now. I could hide for a bit longer or just come out with it and deal with the consequences.

Consequences scared me the way a black hole scared explorers. It was much simpler to evade it, circle around for light years if that’s what it took, and arrive safely, intact on the opposite side of it. Unfortunately, what I needed existed only in that black hole. I’d either have to jump in or evade it altogether. I’d have to surrender to move forward.

Giving up had never been an easy thing for me to do. I didn’t surrender. I pushed on. I dug deep. I survived. I didn’t quit. I hated to lose. When I set my eyes and heart on something, I needed to call it into being. If I wanted a car, I earned a car. If I wanted a summer cottage, I earned a summer cottage. If I wanted my daughter to grow up around horses, I earned her a horse farm. Well, how could I earn her a daddy when he asked me not to uncover our secret? If I couldn’t disclose the truth, how could I help Olivia? If I couldn’t help Olivia, how would I ever earn back her friendship and respect? I needed that from her. Sitting across from her at the diner, I realized more than ever that her trust was the missing piece that blocked me from living my life out loud.