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Allison frowned as she looked down at her camera. “I don’t know. They scream grumpy asshole pretty well to me.”

I let out a breath of frustration before running a hand through my hair. How the hell had I fucked this up so badly? It wasn’t like I was known for being a people person, but there was something about the challenge in Allison’s tone that made me want to try again.

“Look, I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow at my attempt at an apology. Words were never really enough for most people and, yeah okay, maybe I still sounded a little hostile. I cleared my throat and tried again.

“That’s... Daisy,” I finally said, pointing to the chihuahua who was still dancing around Allison’s feet.

The distraction seemed to do the trick. Her entire face lit up as she kneeled back down to give the dog attention again.

Chapter 5

Allie

So I now understood what Lisa meant by the man not being the friendliest. He’d told me the dog’s name, but he still hadn’t told me his. And that must be his standard keep-away scowl on his face. His handsome face, that had just the lightest bit of stubble on it, was the same light brown color as his almost buzzed short hair.

The little chihuahua was adorable. She was so full of energy wanting to play. It made me wish I had something to give her, like a ball or a chew toy. I had to wonder if there were balls small enough for her little snout to grab. They had to make them because it wasn’t like she was an unusual breed.

“She’s eight. I’ve had her for a few months. She’s the sweetest thing, but no one seems to want a dog as old as she is.” When the owner spoke to me again, there was a fondness in his voice as he told me about Daisy. “She has some trouble with her legs sometimes, but some of that has to do with her breed. Those tiny bones just can’t handle a whole lot.”

The dog was so cute, and the more time I spent sitting there letting her jump on me, the more in love with her I fell. That was the most dangerous thing about coming into shelters. It was hard to walk out without your new best friend. My new apartment allowed pets with a small deposit and monthly pet rent, but I didn’t want to do Daisy a disservice if I wasn’t home to give her the attention she needed.

“It’s a shame that no one will give her a chance. She’s so adorable.”

It was as if my words did the magic trick. The owner softened as he came around the corner to kneel next to me. Daisy jumped from my lap to his, licking his face. He laughed, the sound low, making something warm ripple through me at the sound. The feeling was strange, not unwelcome. I just wasn’t used to someone making me feel something like that, especially right after we’d met.

“I’m Truman, by the way,” he said as he lifted Daisy against his chest, carrying her with him behind the counter. It almost felt like he was taking her away from me, but the more I watched him with her, the more obvious the attachment became. He scratched under her tiny chin as she panted, eyes closed, as she soaked in the attention he gave her.

Suddenly, he didn’t seem quite as intimidating as when I’d first walked in the door. Maybe it had something to do with how gentle he was being with such a small dog. I might have misjudged him initially. There was a chance that he was just really bad with people.

“So, tell me, Truman, what makes someone like you open an animal shelter?”

That was the wrong question.

Instead of answering me, he took Daisy behind a door, leaving me standing there in his lobby. At first, I wanted to think that he was just taking her to her kennel, and he’d be back, but the longer I stood there, the less that seemed to be what was happening.

“Truman?” I called out into the empty lobby.

A few dogs barked in the back. Irritation fluttered back to life, making me shift where I was standing. He’d been so mad about me taking a few pictures when I first came in, but now he wasn’t there to stop me.

I lifted my camera again, started snapping a few shots of the lobby. It wasn’t the most welcoming space. The gray walls made everything look a little depressing, and the cement floors didn’t help with the prison-like feeling of the place.

The front desk had papers scattered all over it, the computer looked like something I would have used in middle school. The screen was dark, making me wonder if the thing even worked. Truman hadn’t been using it, so maybe it didn’t.

The closer I got to the door Truman had taken Daisy through, the sound of the dogs grew louder. It wasn’t the best idea to go back there since he’d clearly gone that way to get away from me, but if he was being rude to me, then I was going to give just as much back. I had lived in New York, I knew all about being rude.

My heart beat wildly in my chest as I grabbed the handle of the back room. It wasn’t like me at all to just barge into people’s personal spaces, but he hadn’t exactly told me to leave, either. The first thing I noticed when I opened the door was the smell. It had to be hard to have so many dogs in one place and keep the place spotless at all times, but the stench of dog crap and urine was almost too overwhelming. How the heck did he keep that from seeping into the front of the shelter?

As I walked deeper into the room, a large dog to my right barked at me, making me jump. I’d never seen anything like him before. He looked mean, and the chunk that was missing from one of his ears, along with the scar that ran across one of his eyes, only added to that image.

“Hector, leave her alone.” Truman’s voice carried from somewhere in the back. I looked back at the big dog to my right, and he licked his jowls before panting at me. Maybe it was all in my head. He was probably the sweetest thing in the entire world. All dogs deserved a chance, and maybe that was what Truman was doing. He came across as scary and unfriendly, but maybe he was just misunderstood, like a lot of these dogs were.

“Truman?” I called out again. The sound of the dogs barking was almost deafening. I almost dropped my camera in my haste to cover my ears.

A loud whistle broke out across the room, making the dogs fall silent before Truman came around a corner carrying a bag of dog food.

“I wouldn’t do that again unless you want them to start barking.” He came around a corner, and my breath caught when I saw him. Truman set the bag down, wiping his hands on a rag, and his scowl from earlier was back. Why did I find that scowl so appealing? “Most of these dogs don’t take well to loud, startling noises.”