Page 58 of Call It Serendipity

My attention flits over to the old leather books on the kitchen counter. “They should,” I mutter.

His laugh rumbles over the line. “Getting so bored in small town America that you’re playing chess against yourself now?”

Charlie tips his head to the side, eagerly waiting for me to admit the truth. Instead, I offer, “Something like that.” Then I add, “But I only got the books for the village limits. Can you do some digging into the county regulations?”

“Sure, whatever we can do to nail this one, right?”

That twinge returns to my chest. “Right.”

32

The last week of October brings the annual Harvest for Homeless Animals event at the shelter. It’s one of my favorite, and busiest, days of the year—filled with a sense of community and cider donuts and adoptions. Hay bales and cornstalks stand on display at the barn’s door. And pumpkins line the walkway from the parking lot, carved with the names of the animals currently residing here.

Taylor and Ellie are in charge of the donation table, the biggest feat considering the event’s theme, while Dad aids Parker with the discounted vaccine clinic. It’s something he offers to entice people to leave a donation while they bring in their pet for a shot.

Which just leaves Mom, Sam and me. We’re on adoption duty.

Susie Hart is the most organized, paperwork loving woman I’ve ever known; she’ll process any adoption we bring her in record time. Meanwhile, Sam offered to take the cats so I make my way to the dogs. Specifically, one dog in particular.

I didn’t tell Jake about the event; I’ve hardly talked about it at all this year. Because every time I think about it, I get a sinking feeling in my core.

Entering the room, I pause to straighten the Polaroids of puppies I taped to the glass this morning. They’re still young, but if anyone wants to adopt them today, they’ll be ready to go home in about two weeks.

Most of the Polaroids say female purple collar, or male green collar. But I made sure to label Patches’ picture with his name. They look happy and very healthy in the photographs. I think there’s a good chance almost all of them will get homes today.

Pleased, I move on to my next stop. My main stop. The kennel door squeals as I open it and kneel in front of Bear. Adjusting his jack-o-lantern bandana, I try to ignore the lump in my throat. “They’re going to love you today, sweet boy,” I assure him. “How could they not?”

He nuzzles against my cheek in response.

“Seems like he loves you though.”

A rush of awareness spreads over me as the familiar voice comes from behind my shoulder. It’s deep and smooth, like dark liquor, and I don’t need to turn around to know who it belongs to. It’s a voice that’s occupied the tender corners of my brain for two months now.

I straighten, turning to face Jake as Bear’s body wiggles excitedly beside me. As soon as I see him, my heart ricochets against my ribs in response.

Everyone talks about the anticipation leading up to a first kiss. The does he like me thoughts. The will it happen thoughts.

And then it does. And when it’s good, you’re on cloud nine.

But I don’t feel like the anticipation for the first moment after that kiss is talked about enough. Last time I saw Jake, it was the rush of the unexpected. His showing up late and unannounced, confessing the effect I have on him and the desire to be with me. It came with fireworks in my chest and stars behind my eyes.

So what happens now? It’s as if I’m teetering on the edge, capable of falling completely into this thing happening between us.

My mind has been racing, wondering if he’s on that edge too. But as I take him in, it all quiets.

The smile that pulls his mouth slowly upward, those lips I’ve now experienced firsthand. And that sweater from the day we met. The deep red fisherman knit one that was so soft against my cheek, it stayed with me long after I was out of his embrace.

“I hope it’s okay that I came today.” He sounds a little breathless as he steps closer, and I bite back a grin in response.

“Guess that depends on what you came for.”

Jake reaches forward and cups my face between his palms. Made bold by the way we’re tucked in the back corner of the dog kennels and afforded a sliver of privacy, I drift into him. As my chest presses against his, he says, “For you. Always for you, Lucy.”

“Wow, that’s a good answer,” I breathe.

He tilts my chin up and smiles as the distance between our lips grows smaller. “Let me show you.”

The chance doesn’t come, though, as Bear lets out a deep, throaty bark and slams himself against the back of my legs. My knees buckle from the force, and I fall against Jake in surprise.