her a favor by eating it.
“Why you’re my favorite is a mystery I’ll never understand,” Amanda muttered.
Then, much to her irritation, Ryan Carter’s perfectly irritable, perfectly handsome face popped into her consciousness. She sighed. Damn him, and damn his chiseled bone structure.
“You know what they say about women who are attracted to dark and brooding characters, don’t you?” a familiar voice behind her asked.
Amanda scooped Tucker into her arms and turned around to find Birdie Whitaker smiling blithely at her from the other side of the chain-link gate. “Hi, Birdie. And no, I don’t know that they say. But I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
Of course she was. Birdie never hesitated to speak her mind. “Scientists say it indicates a primal desire to find a strong, virile man who can give you lots of healthy babies.”
Amanda could feel tiny beads of sweat forming on her brow.
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.” Beyond crazy. She didn’t have time for even one baby, much less a lot of them. “Besides, Tucker is a dog. Not a man.”
Ryan was a man, though. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was definitely attracted to him. But Birdie didn’t need to know that. No one did.
The older woman shrugged. “True, but you’re the only one who seems to appreciate his less-than-sparkling personality. Are you saying you wouldn’t like him if he were a human being?”
She held Tucker a little closer to her heart. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. But he’s not. He’s a dog, and I’m not ready for any children. Or a husband. So something about your scientific study must be flawed.”
“You’re probably right. What do they know? They’re just scientists.” Birdie bit back a smile. “Like Einstein and his ilk.”
Amanda rolled her eyes.
What had gotten into everyone? There hadn’t been this much interest in her nonexistent love life in...well...ever. “People are acting strange. I’m beginning to wonder if the storm blew in more than just the tornado.”
“The tornado was plenty. I think the storm might have rattled everyone.” Birdie looked around and sighed. “It sure rattled this old building.”
It had to be heartbreaking for Birdie to see the shelter in such bad shape. Neither she nor her sister had ever married. Bunny had been engaged once, years ago, but Birdie never talked about her past relationships. Every time the subject came up, she said her heart belonged to the animals at Furever Paws.
Amanda carried Tucker out of the kennel, shut the gate behind her and gave Birdie a hug with her free arm. “It’s going to be okay. As soon as the insurance money comes in, you can get someone out here to do repairs and everything will be as good as new.”
Ever stoic, Birdie nodded. “You’re right. This shelter has been here almost twenty years, and we’ve saved hundreds of animals, from dogs and cats to llamas and goats. It’s going to take more than a tornado to stop us.”
“Exactly.” Amanda nodded. “You and Bunny know I’ll help in any way I can, right?”
“Of course we do, dear.” Birdie’s gaze shifted to the dog in Amanda’s arms. “Are you going to walk that prickly little beast, or do you want to hear more about that scientific study I mentioned?”
“Nice try.” Amanda laughed. “But there’s a patch of grass with Tucker’s name on it outside.”
“See you later, sugar,” Birdie said in her Carolina drawl that Amanda knew so well, but when she smiled it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Amanda carried Tucker out back and didn’t set him down on the ground until they’d crossed the gravel lot and reached the sprawling emerald lawn that led to the old Victorian farmhouse where the Whitaker sisters had lived all their lives. Tucker didn’t like walking on gravel. Or dirt. Or pretty much anything other than soft grass. Amanda didn’t feel like playing tug-of-war with him on his leash today, so she indulged the dog once she’d put him down and let him drag her around the yard with his nose to the ground while she took in more damage from the storm.
There were a few more downed trees closer to Birdie and Bunny’s house, and the portable storage sheds behind the shelter had taken a beating. One of them was lying on its side, which probably meant that the dog food it housed had been ruined.
What a mess.
“It’ll be fine, though,” she said to Tucker. “No one got hurt. That’s the most important thing, right?”
It was like talking to a brick wall. The little dog completely ignored her, because of course he did.
Birdie was crazy if she thought that’s the kind of man Amanda wanted to end up with someday. It was one thing to willingly hang out with a standoffish dog, but marrying an actual person who acted in such a way would be insane. Take Ryan Carter, for instance. Just when he’d finally acknowledged her existence and complimented her coffee, he upped and switched back into his indifferent self and bolted. He’d practically sprinted away from her, right there on Main Street. It would have been mortifying, if she cared about how he treated her.
Which she absolutely did not.
Tucker cocked his head at her, and she must have been imagining things because she could have sworn he had a mocking little gleam in his eyes, as if he knew exactly what—or whom—she was thinking about.
She glared at him. “Don’t start.”
She needed to get him back to his kennel anyway, or else she wouldn’t have time to walk any of the other dogs before she had to return to the Grille for the dinner rush. So she scooped him into her arms and made her way back to the kennel area.
She didn’t mean to overhear Birdie and Bunny’s conversation. She really didn’t. They were speaking in such hushed tones that at first Amanda thought she was alone in the concrete room. But as she rounded the corner toward the row of enclosures where Tucker’s kennel was located, their soft, Southern drawls grew louder. More urgent.
“I don’t understand,” Bunny said. “Twenty thousand dollars? Out of our own pockets? We don’t have that kind of money.”
“We’ll just have get it somehow.” Birdie’s tone was flat. Determined.
She’d always been the more practical sister—a no-nonsense go-getter, while Bunny was more of a dreamer. Sweet as could be, but somewhat naive.
Bunny sighed. “But what about the insurance?”
Amanda cleared her throat. She needed to make her presence known before she heard something she shouldn’t. But the sisters didn’t seem to hear her, too caught up in their intense conversation.
“Oh Bunny, that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Birdie’s voice cracked, and it was then that Amanda realized it was too late. Too late to interrupt. Too late to pretend she hadn’t just realized the shelter was in serious trouble. “We don’t have any insurance.”
