to Paws for Love.” The last part of her greeting was strangled as a man stepped inside. His size, the ferocious frown wrinkling his brow, sweat shining on his face, everything about him shouted that he was out of place.
The loud bang of the door as he closed it behind him shook her.
And she was cornered. The sensation of being helplessly cut off flashed through her mind, a reaction from the first and last time she’d tried to stop a fight at the high school. Confident of her authority as an adult and school counselor, she’d stepped between two boys roughly her size and found herself pinned against a wall of lockers, one hard hand on her throat. In the seconds it took Eric Jordan to come to his senses, she’d frantically clawed at that arm and wondered if anyone would save her.
This guy, he was twice the size of Eric Jordan. His shoulders strained against the ironed cotton button-down that had to be at least ten years old. His khakis fit better, but had the same crisp crease that showed careful attention. His white sneakers shuffled as he stopped in the center of the tiny lobby.
She’d been able to look over Eric’s shoulder to see the watching crowd. This guy would block out the sun.
Rebecca put one hand over her racing heart and managed to say, “Can I help you?”
He fidgeted nervously for a second, shifting back and forth between the door and the shelter’s ancient cash register. The too-tight sleeves of his shirt strained over hard muscles as he clenched a folded newspaper. “I’m here about the job.” He wiped one large hand over his forehead.
As Bub, Sarah’s goofy brown dog, came ambling down the hallway, Rebecca held out a hand to try to stop him. Bub had no guard dog setting; he was strictly a social ambassador, a lover, not a fighter.
“Hey, pup,” the big man said, and bent down on one knee. The ominous sound of a seam stretching beyond its limits whispered through the lobby. Bub, sensing another admirer, tipped his chin up for a scratch.
Man and dog communicated silently long enough for Rebecca to get her brain in gear.
“The deadline was Friday. We aren’t accepting applications any longer.” Her voice was the cold, we-have-rules-for-a-reason tone all educators learned early on. People who wouldn’t follow directions were a pet peeve.
“I understand, but I’m asking for a favor, some leeway.” He braced one hand on the counter beside the computer, and the whole base tilted. He scrambled to right it, but everything on top crashed to the floor. The clatter kicked up her heart rate again. Rebecca held out a hand to keep him from crossing behind the counter to clean up his mess.
“We set the deadline for a reason,” she said, and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Everyone wants leeway. Why should we give it to you?”
“Are you the manager?” The guy wasn’t going to take the first no. He didn’t have to. She would have to stand there until he decided to go.
“I’m not, but she’s very busy. We had quite a few qualified candidates, so there’s no real reason to ignore the deadline stated in the ad.” Rebecca spoke slowly, determined to hold her ground. It was the fair thing to do.
“Please. I’ll beg. Is that what you need, Your Highness?” The man squeezed the wrinkled newspaper so tightly it squeaked. “The heat. It makes me short-tempered.”
Before Rebecca could figure out how to answer him, laughter eked around the closed office door.
He turned his head and considered the door. “If you’re not the manager...” Rebecca darted around the counter to stand in front of the door. They couldn’t hire him. He needed to leave.
When he moved closer, she regretted the decision. At this distance, the lines on his face were clearer. The fatigue and desperation in his eyes were impossible to miss. It was tempting to give in.
Very slowly, he put his hands on her tense arms and shifted her out of the way before he reached around her to the doorknob and gave it a twist.
Rebecca fell back a few steps to get some breathing room.
And the giggles slowly died out as Sarah regarded her and the intruder. “Gotta go. Call you later,” she said as she hung up the phone.
Before Sarah could ask or Rebecca could explain, the man said, “Cole Ferguson. I’m here about the job.” He slid the crumpled newspaper on top of the stack of applications and stepped away quickly. One hand ran absentmindedly over his closely cropped hair and he glanced down at Bub. The dog rested against his leg and yawned.
Everyone but Cole Ferguson relaxed a fraction. Rebecca met Sarah’s stare over the desk as Sarah mouthed, “Good people.”
Anxious to get this guy back to wherever he came from so that she could regain her composure, Rebecca said, “I’ve explained the situation. Mr. Ferguson was just leaving.” She raised her eyebrows at him and held a hand out toward the door in case he needed a prompt. He wasn’t listening this time, either.
Cole Ferguson hadn’t moved a centimeter when Jen Neil burst into the tiny office. “I’m telling you, she’s got a business degree and experience with fund-raising. Why would we look for anyone else?” When she realized she was interrupting a conversation already in progress, Jen frowned. “Who’s he?”
“He’s interested in the job,” Rebecca said, “but he’s just leaving.” The way his feet were planted made it clear he wasn’t budging.
Sarah waved a hand. “We’ve got the time. Tell us about your experience. It’s obvious the physical part of the work will be no challenge.” She coughed and then smiled brightly. “And I don’t think we have the right candidate in this stack. No pets, Jen. Your sure bet has no pets, not one to tell me about.” Sarah tapped the last question on the application. “How long is she going to be happy around here? The suit she was wearing when she brought in her application? Had to cost at least eight hundred dollars. Believe me, I know. If it were older, it could be my old suit snagged from the consignment shop. But this place is dog hair and cat scratches and wash-and-wear wardrobe. I need someone who can do more than make phone calls and look pretty.”
“I guess you think you’ve got that covered.” Jen raised an eyebrow.
Sarah stuck her tongue out and they both smiled. Rebecca wasn’t sure whether Jen and Sarah were going to murder each other or run off to lunch together most days. After a rocky past, the two of them were tied together by two great loves: Will Barnes—Jen’s stepbrother, Sarah’s boyfriend and the man charged with matching their lottery winnings with worthy causes—and the need to rescue every stray in the Holly Heights vicinity.
Cole folded both hands in front of him and assumed an impressive, perfectly rigid posture. Did he have military experience?
“I worked with a program for three years. It’s called Prison Partners. We trained rescue dogs from local shelters in basic obedience so that they could be adopted.” He cleared his throat.
Prison? Rebecca did her best not to gasp and point, but her instincts had been right. There was no way they could hire a criminal.
He glanced around the room and rolled his shoulders.
“So that means you were in prison?” Jen asked, her eyebrows set in a firm, disapproving line.
Jen was the one
