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The Shelter
Sam
The pup looks up at me as I check the GPS for the hundredth time. I think he’s just as tired of this ordeal as I am. It has taken me three days to find a no-kill rescue shelter, and naturally, it’s on the outskirts of the city. “In two miles, turn left onto Durham Road East,” the electronic voice blurts and the pup’s ears perk up. I turn onto the gravel road, and the shelter comes into view. Even if I didn’t see it, I certainly would have heard it. Several large dogs are chasing my truck from the other side of a chain-link fence and barking.
I pull in and park and take a last look at the pup. We’ve only known each other for a few days, but we’ve been through a lot together. I rub his head and smell my hand. It’s been days, and he still smells of smoke. “This is it, big guy. These people will clean you up and find you a new family,” I tell him as I hop out of the truck and head to the only door in the long, metal building.
Inside, I find four smaller dogs milling around the reception area. They seem less interested in me and don’t even bark to announce my presence. There’s a little, silver bell on the counter, and I press it three times.
“Just a minute. I’ll be right with you,” a female voice calls from somewhere in the back.
I bend down to pet the tiny ball of fluff that jumped on my leg, so the girl from the back can’t see me when she comes out to help me.
“Hello?” she calls and I stand up and see her for the first time.
My breath catches in my throat.
In my line of work, even a momentary shock can be costly, so I’m always primed to fight. But as my gaze lands on her, I’m frozen to the spot, and I feel my heart slam into my ribcage.
She’s a petite brunette with the kind of deep, soulful eyes that could seduce you with just a glance. Her hair is long but pulled back and tucked into a ball cap, exposing her neck and collar bones. It’s hot in this place, so she’s wearing a tank top and a tiny pair of denim shorts, leaving nothing to the imagination and causing my eyes to wander from her large breasts to her tiny waist and toned legs. I would say that you don’t see this kind of perfection every day, but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a girl this perfect in my life.
“Can I help you?” she asks, snapping me back to reality.
“Oh, yeah, I called about a dog. I think I spoke to you. Are you Sara?” I can think of so many other ways that she could help me. My pants suddenly tighten, and I shift uncomfortably on my feet.
“Yes,” she says, holding out her hand. I take her tiny hand in mine and squeeze it gently while looking at her full lips, longing to pull her closer so that I can kiss them. I blink at my reaction to her. What’s going on with me?
“I’m Sam. I’m the firefighter that rescued the dog from the big apartment building fire Friday night.”
“Right, I was expecting you today. I can’t tell you how happy I was to hear on the news that you got him out safely, but are you sure he doesn’t have an owner?”
“No, the little guy is a mystery. Nobody knows where he came from or why he was in the building. It was abandoned and condemned by the city five years ago. It rained earlier in the night, so I figured maybe he snuck in to get out of the weather.” I trace the outline of her perfect face with my eyes—from the high cheekbones to her smooth, creamy skin. How can someone look this beautiful? She feels almost unreal.
“I’ll hold him here for a few days just in case someone is missing him. He looks like a pure breed so I doubt that he’s a stray. Where is he?” She starts looking behind me.
“He’s out in my truck. I wanted to check in with you before I brought him inside.”
She nods, and without another word, she heads out.
I let her walk ahead of me so I can get a look at her from behind, and it’s no surprise that she’s just as attractive from the back. She’s so small that she has to stand on her toes. She peers inside my truck, and the little pup hops up, wagging his tail. He rushes into her arms and bathes her face in kisses.
“He acts as if he knows you.” I smile. I guess I’m not the only one who thinks she’s perfect.
“He’s just a sweetheart,” she replies. “Does he have a name?”
“He didn’t have a tag so I don’t know. I’ve just been calling him Lucky.”
“Lucky you were there to save him.” She smiles warmly, and my heartbeat speeds up. “There’s some paperwork to fill out. If you’ll hold on to him, I’ll get it for you.”
I take the pup from her and carry him inside where I stand at the counter and watch her bend over to open the bottom drawer of her rusty, old file cabinet. She looks out of place here. She’s hot and classy, and this place is a real dump. Still, she seems like she loves it here.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask her, sure that there’s cleaner work in a nicer environment for a smart, sexy girl like this one.
“I own this place,” she replies. She turns to me and, seeing my stunned expression, attempts to explain things further.
“I took over when the man who started this rescue passed away last year. Before that, I volunteered here. I started when I was a junior in high school.”
