He drove through an open gate and that mile took them past acres of woods and trails, around a picturesque lake, and past some stables and a festive red barn called “The Cat House.”
They finally reached a one-story ranch-style structure painted buttery yellow with a tin roof and a covered porch. Inside, it was as rustic as the rest of the place with faded couches and paneled walls.
An older woman stood behind the front desk, smiling as she greeted them. “Can I help you get the dog of your dreams?” she asked, then eyed Lacey. “Actually, you look like a cat girl.”
“I love cats,” Lacey told her. “But I’m here to pick up a dog named Pickles. Jennifer Kaplan arranged the adoption and emailed the paperwork. I’m Lacey Knight. I believe she named me on the form.”
The woman’s face lit up. “Oh! Yes, he’s been waiting for you. Hold on. I’ll get someone in the kennels.”
She picked up a phone, and Lacey turned to Roman, who’d stepped to the side and was studying a bulletin board covered with thank-you notes written with dozens of pictures of happy families and their new pets.
He turned to her with a wistful look. “Adoption,” he said softly. “Whether human or furball, is a beautiful thing.”
“It sure is.”
“Look at all these happy families.”
“Just like yours,” she replied.
He let out a sigh, his expression troubled. “Their cruise is almost over and they’ll be home soon.”
She put a hand on his arm. “The longer you wait, the harder it will be for Tessa when we tell her. She’s going to struggle with the fact that we kept it from her all this time.”
He started to answer, but then the front door swung open and the woman behind the desk called out, “Cute overload on the way!”
They looked down to see a bug-eyed brown and tan Chihuahua, fur bristling and tail wagging at breakneck speed. He trotted toward them, a few steps ahead of a girl who looked to be about seventeen, holding the dog’s leash.
Roman blinked. “That is the most ridiculous animal I’ve ever seen.”
Pickles gave a high-pitched bark in response.
“I love him already,” Lacey said.
The girl handed over the leash. “Pickles has a lot of energy,” she said. “The best way to calm him down before you get him on the road is a walk around the property. That’ll help you bond with him, too. All you need to do is sign the paperwork with Miss Nellie.”
“I’ve got that right here,” the woman behind the desk said.
While Lacey handled the administration and gave the donation that Jennifer wanted to make, she kept glancing over her shoulder to watch Roman, who’d gotten on the floor to play with Pickles.
“He’s so cute,” Nellie whispered as she flipped pages for Lacey to sign.
“Man or dog?” Lacey asked with a smile.
“Honestly? Both.”
A moment later, they headed outside into the sunshine, with Pickles proudly leading the way, obviously familiar with every inch. So much so, that they let him off the leash for the sheer joy of watching him trot from tree to tree.
“What do you think she’ll say?”
Roman’s question was so unexpected, Lacey stopped mid-step. “Tessa?” she asked.
“I mean, will she be mad that we didn’t tell her?”
“She might be. She might also be mad that I found you at all. I don’t know.” And worrying about it was starting to gnaw at Lacey, but the decision to tell her—or his parents—wasn’t hers.
“I like things status quo,” he said. “It’s one of my personality traits. I hate change.”
“Really? You up and moved to Destin on a whim,” she remarked. “I would have thought you love change.”
