“You slept on that worn-out couch in the front parlor, didn’t you? I’m betting you didn’t even take your shoes off.”
He smiled. “There’s something to be said for being ready.”
Kelsey let out a soft sigh. “I found out the reason they weren’t here yesterday was because they were protesting in front of the shelter.”
“If they show up there today, then at least I won’t have to waste any time looking for them,” Kurt said, cocking an eyebrow.
“You and me both. Megan and I talked about sending Patrick out to them. No one can outtalk Patrick. He’s got a photographic memory.”
“He can talk all he wants. As for me, there’s a lot I’d like to do, but talking’s not high on my list.”
Kelsey pursed her lips, clearly not liking his comment. He suspected she was debating whether to call him on it. Behind her, through the open car door, there was an almost inaudible whine. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought Orzo.”
“Thanks,” Kurt said, switching to a lighter topic, “but I’m not really the pasta-for-breakfast type. And Ida was kind enough to bring over a sandwich about an hour ago.”
“Ha. That was sweet of her.” She glanced toward Ida’s house. “I really need to move it higher on my to-do list to bake her something in return.” She shut the driver’s-side door and opened the back passenger door. “And I know you know I was talking about our little corgi. Kurt, meet Orzo. I don’t allow myself to pick favorites, but if I did, it might be him.”
Kurt sank to a squat and let the brown-and-white corgi sniff his hand. He noticed that the dog’s tail was relaxed, not curled down around his haunches or forced upward on display. Orzo wagged it a few times before facing the house and sniffing the air.
Inside, not surprisingly, the house was starting to smell like dog, and Kurt had all the windows wide open. “What’s his story? Seems like he should be adoptable.”
“He is. Very. Like all our dogs really. He’s a special case though. His old owner operated a struggling bakery. When it started going under, she stopped buying dog food and fed him bakery leftovers. The woman’s mother finally brought him to us. Orzo came in so overweight he could barely walk. He had high blood pressure and was on the verge of being diabetic. But he was a rock star when it came to getting healthy. After six months of exercise and a healthy diet, he was cleared for adoption. That was a month ago. He’s had a few people show interest, but most folks are wary because, even with the weight loss, his sugar levels are a little off. He was almost adopted once, but that’s a story for another day.”
Kurt gave the puppy-faced corgi a gentle rub on the back of the neck. “The world is full of stories, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Kelsey agreed, “but I’m a firm believer that most of them are happy, or at least they wind up that way.”
Kurt stood and smiled, resisting the urge to pull her in for a deep kiss. How was it that in the few short hours of sleep he’d had, he’d dreamed about her again? They’d been inside the house, in a warm, sunny room upstairs. The room had a fresh, bright coat of paint, and they were lounging in a wide, comfortable bed. They’d been talking, and their fingers were entwined. The almost-constant ache he carried in his groin around her had fallen dormant. Instead, his chest was bursting with a sense of connection that didn’t come from sex, or at least not from sex with just anyone.
In real life, he’d never felt that connection with anyone, though last night he’d felt a brush or two of it with her. He’d had buddies and even dogs in his care that he would have laid down his life for, but he’d never been in love. Being the son of Sara and who knows who else, he wondered if that gene might be missing in his DNA. But he was also a descendant of his grandparents. They’d spent their lives loving each other, despite differences in culture and family traditions and religious beliefs. His grandmother was a devout Catholic. His grandfather was an atheist. Yet, even in their subtle, understated way, their love for each other had been immense. Why should it surprise him that some innate part of him seemed to want to make this old mansion his home and Kelsey his wife?
He’d only met her a week ago, and the old house belonged to the shelter. And inside, it was full of dogs who needed breakfast and a break from their kennels, and then some serious one-on-one training.
Thankfully, foggy-headed as he was, not only was there still a half a pot of coffee warming in the kitchen, but he could count on the occasional brushes of fingertips or elbows with Kelsey to keep him stimulated. “Speaking of happy stories, we should get to work ensuring that a few more end up that way.”
* * *
“We’ve got to get this on video,” Kelsey said later that afternoon, reaching into her pocket for her phone as Zeus dipped into a play bow next to Orzo. “Patrick, you don’t by any chance have the shelter’s DSLR in one of those pants pockets, do you?” Then, seeing that he was taking her literally by the way he cocked his head in contemplation—probably wondering how she could be insensible enough to think the bulky camera could fit into one of the pockets in his cargo pants—she added, “Kidding.”
Both dogs were on leashes—Zeus with Kurt and Orzo with Patrick—and had spent the last fifteen minutes walking around the front and side yards together. Now, they were hanging out by the side of the house under the massive oak trees whose leaves were turning yellow and orange.
Kurt had
