“You are. I can hear it.”
“I’m hangin’ up now.”
“Bring coffee. And details.”
The line disconnects before I can threaten him.
I glance around my tiny living room with its thrift-store furniture and stacks of paperback books on the side table. Last night already feels surreal. My stomach flips clean over.
I drag both hands down my face and head for the shower before I can embarrass myself further by standing in my kitchen grinning like a fool.
Twenty-five minutes later, I pull into the shelter parking lot with damp hair twisted into a clip and a cardboard tray of iced coffee riding shotgun beside me. Second Chance Savannah comes into view with its faded blue sign and flower boxes out front.
Home.
The second I climb out of the truck, barking explodes from inside. Then the front door swings open. Jules steps out in black jeans, sunglasses, and a fitted gray T-shirt, looking less like a shelter manager and more like a man heading to a photo shoot. He plants one hand on his hip.
“Well, well.”
“Oh, don’t start.”
“Too late.” He lowers the sunglasses slowly. “Look at you.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You look suspiciously moisturized.”
I nearly choke on air. He grabs one of the iced coffees before I can smack him with it.
“You’re a terrible person.”
“And still your favorite.”
“That title is hangin’ by a thread.”
“Mhmm.” He falls into step beside me as we head inside. “Did the Russian billionaire feed you breakfast in bed?”
“No.”
“Did the hot Russian billionaire sit there lookin’ intense, mysterious, and emotionally constipated?”
“Yes.”
Jules clutches his chest. “Finally. Honesty.”
I laugh despite myself.
Warm air wraps around us the second we step into the lobby. A volunteer waves from behind the desk.
“Mornin’, Maggie.”
“Mornin’, Claire.”
One of the pit bull mixes starts wiggling so hard in his kennel that his entire backside smacks the gate.
“Hey, Bubba.” I crouch beside the kennel while he presses his nose through the bars. “You causin’ trouble already?”
“He screamed because breakfast was three minutes late,” Jules informs me.
