Morning comes quicker than I’d like. The alarm goes off, and I slap at it without opening my eyes, groaning as I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, hoping the day might start without me if I wait long enough.
It doesn’t.
“Alright,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face before pushing myself up. “Let’s get to it.”
I shuffle to the bathroom, brushing my teeth with one eye half open, my hair still messy from sleep. Once I pull it into a loose bun and throw on jeans and a soft, worn T-shirt, I start to feel more like myself and less like something dragged out of a ditch.
The drive to the shelter is easy, the windows cracked to let in the morning air. Savannah in spring wakes up slow and sweet, everything fresh and green, like it’s still stretching into the day. By the time I pull into the lot, I can already hear the dogs inside,their barking echoing through the walls like they know who just arrived.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I call under my breath as I grab my bag and head in.
As soon as I open the door, the familiar scent hits me. The fans hum overhead, moving the air around, kennel doors clink, and nails tap against the concrete as a few dogs jump up to greet me.
“Good morning, y’all,” I say, already moving, reaching down to scratch behind ears as I pass.
“I saw a twelve-pound sausage with ambition this morning,” Jules says.
I don’t even look up. “If you’re about to talk about Elvis again, I’m not emotionally prepared.”
Jules leans against the doorframe with his iced coffee, looking way too put together for a place that smells like kibble and chaos. In the corner, a puppy tries to eat a mop like it’s his personal mission.
“Oh, I’m absolutely talking about Elvis,” he says, pushing off the frame and following me in. “He tried to take down a volunteer. Full attack and no remorse.”
“That volunteer waved a toy in his face and then got surprised when he jumped,” I say, grabbing a clipboard off the counter and flipping through it. “That’s on them.”
“Mm-hmm.” He takes a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim. “So. Dog treat man.”
I freeze for half a second, then keep flipping the page as if nothing happened. “We’re not doin’ this before I’ve had caffeine.”
“We are absolutely doin’ this before you’ve had caffeine,” he says easily. “Because once you’ve had caffeine, you’ll be faster and harder to pin down.”
“There’s nothin’ to pin down.”
“You tried to feed him like he was a golden retriever.”
I keep my eyes on the clipboard, flipping the page like I didn’t hear him. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
I point the pen at him. “That is not how that went, hush.”
“You saw that man and your brain short-circuited.”
“My brain did no such thing.”
“Mm-hmm.” He takes a slow sip of his iced coffee. “All those romance novels finally got you.”
“That’s not—” I stop, exhaling. “He caught me off guard.”
“He has eyes, Maggie. That’s not a surprise.”
“It wasn’t the eyes.”
Jules’s mouth curves, slow and knowing. “Oh, so we’re narrowing it down now.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again, because that would be a mistake and he’d know it anyway. “Don’t you have something to do?” I mutter instead, turning away to check the board.
“I do.” He pauses, just long enough to make me look back at him. “This.”
