"Someday," I tell myself. "Someday."
I stop in at Pints & Paninis, a cute little cafe that sells artisan sandwiches during the day and transforms into a bar in the evenings. Lucas takes my order, giving me the same hopeful smile he's given me every day for years, even after I've told him in no uncertain terms that we aren't ever going out together. I mean, he's cute, gainfully employed, and charming as all get out, but he's nineteen. A cougar I am not.
As I wait for my sandwich, I watch foot traffic on the sidewalk and cars on Main Street. A huge silver pickup stops at the traffic light at Brookline, right in front of Pints & Paninis. In it, Riley Crowe is at the wheel, lounging backward in the seat with hiswrist hanging over the wheel, mirrored aviators hiding his eyes, his shiny black hair slicked back. Beside him in the passenger seat is Bear. My heart skips a beat just looking at him.
I've thought about him constantly since last Friday. I haven't had time to go see him at the shelter despite my best efforts. Every day this week, something has come up: a client needs a last-minute blowout before a big event; Mom needs help in the garden at home; Dad needs a trim; Nat needs me to feed and play with her blue and gold macaw, Patch, because she agreed to work a double shift; Nik needs me to style her hair for an interview for the prime time news anchor slot; the boys are trying out for parts in a play at the Three Rivers Theater and need me to run lines with them.
I love my family, but gosh, they all come to me when they need something, and I can't ever seem to say no. I've never been able to say to no them. I don't mind, most of the time. But it sure does get exhausting.
I’m going to go see him today, I decide, as Riley and Bear pull away at the green light. Especially because our usual Friday night Trivia gathering has been canceled—Thomas and Colin have a wedding, Raina has a family thing, and Kyle and Ashlynn are both working late.
I take my sandwich across Main Street and eat it on a bench overlooking the water, letting my thoughts wander, as they do so often lately, back to Bear.
He was so shy and hesitant. Every time I touched him, no matter how innocently—and it was all innocent—he would look at me in shock, as if unable to figure out why I would do such a thing. Other than that brush of his thumb over the scrapes on my palm, he hasn't made physical contact of any kind with me. He won't pull away, but neither will he touch me first.
The man has secrets, that much is obvious. Deep ones. Dark ones. There's pain in his eyes. The tattoos on his arms hide scars.Yet for all that, he's gentle, quiet, and still. I feel no fear of him, even though he seems to expect it. I mean, I get it. If all you were to go on was his appearance, sure, he's intimidating as all heck. But there's more to him—a lot more. He hides it, but that just makes getting it out of him that much more of an intriguing challenge.
Finished with my lunch,I head back to the salon in time for my one o'clock with Maggie Hendricks, and her soft patter about her grandkids keeps my mind occupied—and after that, I'm so busy I have no time to think about Bear.
I'm still in my work clothes, but my last appointment ran super long—Ella came in for a blowout and ended up with a cut and coloranda blowout, which is good for my bank account, but meant I couldn't clock out and lock up until after seven, and the shelter closes at seven-thirty.
It's quarter after by the time I park behind the shelter and go inside. I'm greeted by the welcome cacophony of barking dogs and the scent of fur and whatever else. The bell announces my presence, and Gloria hustles out.
"Why, it's Noelle Harper. Another stray?" She peers over the counter expectantly.
"Actually," I pause, clear my throat, and hope my embarrassed flush isn't too obvious. "I wanted to go back and talk to Bear for a few minutes. I thought I’d help him do whatever it is he's doing."
Gloria's eyes twinkle knowingly. "Ahh, I see. That man has been a godsend. Dogs and cats both love him, and he doesn't mind doing the dirty work. I admit I had my reservations, what with a murder conviction on his record, but after talking toRiley and watching him with the animals, it's obvious he's sweet as sugar, just a little misunderstood, maybe. Goodness knows I don’t know the circumstances of his conviction, but I figure there has to be a mistake of some kind because I just can’t see a man as kind and gentle and patient as he is killing anyone.” Her eyes widen, and she claps a hand over her mouth. “There I go again—me and my big mouth. Forget I said anything?"
Murderconviction? Holy crappy-doodles.
But as Gloria said, there must have been a mistake.
She waves me to the back. “He's giving Roger a bath right now—the poor idiot pooped in his cage again. Just follow the howling.”
As I pass her, Gloria catches my arm. "Do tread softly with that one, dear. He's one of those still-waters-run-deep types. And try to forget what I said—it wasn't my place to say anything, it's just my mouth runs away from my brain sometimes."
I pat her hand. "It's okay, Gloria. Thank you."
I push through the batwing doors—the volume increases tenfold, and I follow the sound of a howling husky to the back of the shelter; along the way, I pass dogs, cats, bunnies, parrots, and even three adorable white rats together in a cage. Another set of doors takes me to a subway-tiled room with a waist-height stainless steel wash basin running along one wall, with restaurant-style springy spray hoses at regular intervals, with hooks on the wall for clipping leashes.
Bear is at one of the stations, his broad back to me, gigantic arms flexing as he holds a writhing, shaking, yowling husky in place with one hand, scrubbing it with the other.
The husky is downright yelling, making a noise that sounds for all the world like "No! No! No!"
And Bear answers. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't talk back to me."
"Row-row-row-ROW!"
"I know you don't like baths. Next time, don't shit in your cage. Wait for me to walk you."
"Wow-row-ROW-row."
“Yes, it is your fault. You know better. I told you I'd walk you."
"Row-row-row-row."
"I was not too slow. I was busy, you ungrateful turd."
