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“I remembered where your dad kept the spare key so I figured I’d help out and get you an early start. I also wanted to see my dogs. Where are they?” he asks, looking over my shoulder.

“They’re running loose in the horse pasture. I was going to leave them there while I fed and watered the dogs, but I guess that’s already done. Thank you, by the way. That saves a lot of time.”

“You’re welcome, and I’m yours for the day. Put me to work.”

I give him a look. “I’m not going to put you to work when you just told me you’re in pain.”

“I didn’t say I was in pain right now; I said I was in pain last night. My physical therapist worked my shoulder good yesterday. It was tight when I got up, but I did some of the stretches she showed me, and that took care of most of the ache. The anti-inflammatories help too.”

“If you’re sure. But any inkling of pain and you have to promise you’ll stop.”

“Cross my heart.”

“Follow me.”

Rhett tails me inside and down the main aisle past the dog kennels.

“We’ll clean out the cages of the dogs that are outside, and once we’re done, we’ll bring them back in, let the others out, and clean those cages.”

I unlock the storage room door and pull out the cleaning supplies and a large hose that’s already connected to a faucet.

“I’ll have you spray the floors down, and I’ll come behind you and scrub. Then we’ll rinse.”

“I can scrub,” he says, reaching for the brush, but I pull it back.

“No, sir.” I shake my head. “You will not injure yourself further on my watch. Coop wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”

Rhett’s jaw clenches at the mention of Coop’s name, and I scoff. “Oh, good grief, Rhett. I wouldn’t sleep with your brother, and I’m not attracted to him in any way. Never have been; never will be.”

“You used to be attracted to me, and we’re identical twins.”

Seriously? “That doesn’t mean shit, Rhett. You two are polar opposites. You may look alike, but that’s where the similarities end.”

He smirks. “So, you are attracted to me?”

I shove his good arm. “Get to work.”

Laughing, he takes the hose, and we spend the next hour working together to clean the cages. Once we get them clean, we round up the dogs and bring them in. Most of them are tuckered out from being outside and are anxious to curl up and take a nap. Then Rhett gathers the rest of the dogs and puts them in the fenced yard.

We wash and clean the remaining dog cages, then move on to the cats. We clean their litter boxes, give them fresh food and water and lots of love and attention, and when we’re done, I go back into the storage room and pull out a can of tuna.

I peel open the container, and I can’t help myself. I shove it toward Rhett. He hates tuna.

He makes a gagging sound and pushes me away. “Paybacks are hell,” he warns.

“Ah, come on, tuna is good for you.”

“Come near me with that stuff again and you’ll be wearing it.”

“Fine. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” I walk toward the back of the cat kennels and unlatch the door to a walk-in cage. Rhett follows behind but stays outside the enclosure. “Will you shut the door? I don’t want Pickles to make a run for it like he tried to do yesterday.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Pickles?”

“What?” I ask. “He loves his name.”

“You’re still addicted, aren’t you?”

I’ve always had a deep affinity for dill pickles. Rhett used to make fun of me, because not only do I eat the pickles, I drink the juice. On more than one occasion back in the day, he brought me a jar of pickles rather than a bouquet of flowers.

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