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Likes: Climbing into cupboards
Dislikes: That Al Pacino won an Oscar for Scent of a Woman and not any of his earlier movies.
“You’re such a dirty boy.”
For Ashley Adams’s efforts, she got a saucy wink in return.
“Oh, yeah, absolutely filthy.”
She squeezed the soapy sponge and applied it to the hairy body at eye level. With a vigorous scrub, she lathered up and went to work on the dirtiest parts.
“Oh, you like that, don’t you?”
“You really need a boyfriend,” she heard behind her.
Over her shoulder, Ashley grinned at the new arrival. Cora Ramsey ran Riverbrook Animal Shelter and never failed to have opinions on Ashley’s lack of love life since her divorce was finalized six months ago. (Though the opinion dispensing had started long before that, around the time Greg announced he was leaving and bonus, he’d knocked up the babysitter.)
“Why would I need a boyfriend when I have all the male company I can ask for here?”
She squeezed the wet sponge over her current boyfriend, Bandit, a terrier mix with a patchy coat and a whole lot of attitude. He didn’t like baths, but Ashley encountered that with a lot of the pups in her care. Definitely more of an issue with the male of the species.
“That’s your problem,” Cora said as she checked the volunteer schedule hanging on the back of the door. “You think this job is an adequate substitute for your love life. It is not.”
Ashley covered Bandit’s ears. “Don’t listen to her. I’ll never leave you.”
If anything, Bandit would leave her first. He wasn’t in bad shape. Whoever had cared for him over the last year had kept him fed and his patchy coat could easily be remedied with some TLC. At some point, his previous owner had decided they didn’t want him and dropped him off with a note saying he was aggressive. Other than an aversion to baths and a tendency to growl when near the other dogs, Ashley didn’t see it.
Bandit would probably get a new home soon enough, and maybe even a new name because people liked to do that. Put their own stamp on things.
“So who’s in today?”
Cora flicked a glance over the clipboard. “Toby and Gillian. Though I don’t know why Toby bothers. All he wants to do is share on Instacart.”
Cora meant Instagram, but Ashley enjoyed her slips of the tongue too much to correct her.
“It gets good coverage for the shelter. Every time he features one of our strays, we get people asking to see them.”
“Asking to see Toby more like. He’s such a little ho. But you’re right, we did get at least ten applications to adopt Coco.” She put the clipboard back on the hook. “Speaking of men only too willing to dispense their favors, I need to run something by you. About a volunteer.”
Ashley raised the showerhead to finish Bandit’s rinse. “Sounds great. We need all the help we can get.”
Cora cleared her throat and looked a touch shifty. “Not sure this is the kind of help that will be all that useful. It’s some idiot hockey player.”
“Like a professional idiot hockey player?”
Cora passed off a towel. “Professional idiot is right. The Chicago Rebels have donated a lot to the shelter over the years.”
That statement might have sounded like a non sequitur, but Ashley could read between the lines. An organization like theirs existed on the goodwill of donations. Sure they had adoption and foster fees, but none of that covered the expenses. They depended on the kindness of strangers.
The city’s pro hockey franchise practically paid Ashley’s salary, which made for a certain degree of uncertainty. As a single mom with no particular skillset, she needed a decent-paying job. Luckily, she was able to muddle through with the help of her family, and her ex’s job paid for their daughter’s insurance.
Cora waved her clipboard. “Ever hear of Dex O’Malley?”
“The club whore guy?”
“That’s the one. Up on his latest stunt?”
“Something about a bar fight … wait, is that who wants to volunteer?”
