Before I can answer, Jake lunges toward the refreshment table again.
“Oh no you don’t.”
My mother laughs while I stumble after him through the lobby.
“That dog got pure foolishness livin’ inside him,” she calls after me.
“Yeah, well he fits right in around here.”
The next hour disappears into complete madness. A beagle puppy pees on a businessman’s expensive loafers. A young volunteer accidentally drops an entire bucket of rubber balls, creating instant canine warfare beside the agility area in the fenced side yard. Two college girls cry as they fill out paperwork to adopt bonded chihuahuas. A golden retriever escapes through the grooming room and somehow ends up beside the barbecue food truck, accepting brisket from strangers like he owns the place.
I barely stop moving long enough to think, which is exactly why I don’t notice the black SUVs pulling into the parking lot at first.
Jules notices before I do. “Showtime,” he mutters beside me.
I glance toward the front gates, and there he is. Alexei steps out of the back SUV, wearing dark slacks and a fitted black button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Two security men fall into step behind him automatically. At the same time, his gaze moves across the crowded shelter like he’s sizing up every person, every exit, every possible problem before finally landing straight on me.
That look hits me square in the chest every single time.
Jules leans closer. “Half the women here suddenly forgot they got husbands.”
“Hush.”
“Honey, I’m serious.” Jules gestures toward the crowd. “Look around.”
Three women near the silent auction table openly stare while one nearly walks straight into a kennel gate without ever taking her eyes off Alexei.
And Lord help me, a tiny bit of satisfaction moves through me.
Then the back passenger door opens again. Ivy climbs out wearing a yellow sundress with little daisies stitched across the front while clutching her stuffed bunny against her chest. Irina steps out right behind her in fitted black slacks and a pale blue blouse, immediately scanning the crowded shelter grounds out of habit before her expression softens at Ivy’s excitement.
“Maggie!”
Her entire face lights up before she takes off running through the gate toward me.
My whole body loosens instantly. “Well, hey there, sweet pea.” I smile down at her dress. “And look at you all gussied up in your little daisies.”
I crouch just in time for Ivy to throw herself into my arms hard enough to nearly knock me backward. She smells like strawberry shampoo and sunshine.
“We’re not late?” she asks anxiously.
“Nope. Perfect timin’,” I assure her.
Her eyes immediately dart toward the kennels. “Can I go see Mr. Pickles first?”
Alexei exhales beside us, as if he'd already expected this question. “You saw Mr. Pickles yesterday.”
“But he missed me today,” Ivy argues immediately.
I bite back a smile. “That sounds very serious.”
“It is serious,” Ivy insists.
Irina adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder and sighs dramatically. “The dog has emotionally attached himself to her now. We all lost this battle days ago.”
Then Mama steps beside me, holding a lemonade. “Well, look at y’all,” she says warmly. “I swear Ivy gets prettier every time I see her.”
“I wore my flower dress today,” Ivy announces proudly.
