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She hadn’t warmed up to him yet, but that didn’t worry him. He’d have her eating out of his hand soon enough.
“That’s right. We’re a no-kill shelter so we collect animals that have been dropped off at others in the area and process them here. We also get some animals brought in because they’re strays. We check for?—”
“Microchips.”
“Correct.” She looked pleased, and there it was: a zing of pleasure because she approved of something he said. He couldn’t believe she was quizzing him like Mrs. Gilligan used to do in tenth grade English and that he was strangely enjoying it. “We have a wand that allows us to scan and find out. Unfortunately not enough people chip their pets.”
“Probably want the option to dump them later. Leave no trace.”
Cue Ashley not looking pleased, which didn’t seem to make a difference as far as his dick was concerned. He was digging everything about this woman, which was strange because she was not his usual type. She was too earnest, too judgmental, and curvier than he typically went for.
“I wouldn’t take such a pessimistic view. Chipping is expensive for some pet owners. They might not be able to afford it.”
Confirmed: she was a glass half-full type. You’d have to be, working here.
“We also get some owners who drop off their animals. They say they don’t fit the family anymore or their landlords don’t allow them, that kind of thing. It’s rare when people are up front about it. Most people don’t want to admit they’ve made a mistake.” She sounded disturbed by this behavior, so he waited while she sorted that out in her head and took a breath. “Okay, next. What is the recommended attire for our volunteers?”
He must have glazed over at that part while watching the video. For the volunteer manager in front of him, he’d say a pale blue bra with lace trim and—focus, man.
“Hazmat suit.” He threw it out confidently, so she’d assume he was joking while he stalled for time.
“If only they were provided,” she said with a laugh. “Some of the messes we have to deal with.”
He liked her laugh. It had a dirty tone to it.
She waited patiently for his answer.
“Casual clothes?” he offered, less sure now, but taking his cue from her outfit.
“Yes, but more specifically …”
“Sweats?” He gestured to his shorts, which dropped her gaze to his thighs. Despite it being early March and the temps outside being in the forties, he tended to run hot. Lucky for her, that meant he was showcasing thick, muscular thighs, the gold standard for a hockey player. Would she take the opportunity to ogle now that he’d given her permission?
She did look, but more of a quick assessment with no heat in it. Interesting.
“Actually, it would be better if you wore longer pants. Sweats are fine but you want to be covered up in case the dogs scratch or the cats get clingy. They’ll be climbing you like a tree before you know it.” She added a few extra words under her breath.
“What’s that?” Though he’d heard. “Like everyone else.” That’s what she’d said, the cheeky minx.
“Nothing.” A shockingly pretty blush suffused her cheeks.
“Something about people climbing me like a tree?”
She looked up through the curtain of her caramel-brown lashes, a little embarrassed. Now we’re getting somewhere …
“Sorry, that was rude.”
“Just sayin’ how it is, right? I’m a popular guy.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Do we need to discuss the elephant in the room?”
She smiled thinly. “No elephants here, Mr. O’Malley. There are other facilities for the exotics.”
“It’s Dex. And it’s okay if you’ve seen that video. A lot of people have.”
Her expression was pained. “I don’t typically follow celebrity gossip, but yes, I’ve seen it. I needed to research you if you’re going to be volunteering here. You have a good left hook.”
