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He took her back to the shelter and gave her a bath, scrubbed her down and saw her gorgeous coloring—chocolate brown with a thick patch of white starting from the top of her head, all the way down her snout and her belly. Afterwards, Gavin made sure to feed her and instead of settling her into a crate in the back, he let her curl up on the couch with him. That’s how Bronte found them the next morning, Gavin holding onto the dog like he might lose her if he let go.
Since that day, Cedar had been living with Gavin. Bronte named her—like she did with all the animals at the shelter—simply because she believed that her coloring matched that of a cedar tree. He didn’t argue when the dog had barked happily and her wagging tail had almost levitated her off the floor. Cedar and Gavin had a bond that he hadn’t had with an animal since their family dog died years ago. While she was older than he realized, Gavin loved the heck out of his dog and would fight like hell to keep her forever.
* * *
An hour later, Gavin and Cedar walked into the shelter to the sounds of happy barking and soft music. Bronte was sitting at the front desk with one of their volunteers and when their eyes met, she held up two fingers to let him know she needed some time. He walked towards his office, Cedar trotting beside him, her tail still wagging happily as she hopped onto the couch and got comfortable.
His desk was still covered in piles of paper, there were folders that he didn’t even know anything about. There were coffee cups, discarded bottles of water and absolute chaos everywhere he looked. To stop himself from thinking about Ginny and where her ample butt had been perched, Gavin started clearing up his desk. He found an empty box and put all the cups and glasses into it and set it on the floor. Gavin then went through the papers on his desk, stacking them in orderly piles and hoping that he was putting them in the right place.
Once his office looked a little less like a hurricane had come through, Gavin turned on his computer. He filled Cedar’s bowls with water and food, opened the large window to let fresh air in and then sat down at his desk just as Bronte walked in holding two large mugs of coffee and a black shoe box.
“All right, what do we have?”
She set the box on his desk and flipped the lid open. Scraps of paper greeted him and Gavin’s eyes widened as he looked at Bronte and then back at the box.
“I don’t know how many of them are good, but I figure we can weed through them.”
Nodding, Gavin took a mug from her and grabbed the first paper, holding it up for Bronte to read—car washwas all it said.
“How does a car wash help dogs?”
Despite how silly that first idea was, Bronte had been right. They were taking in too many animals and they were running out of space. While they weren’t broke and Gavin’s bank account wasn’t empty, he did his best to not dip into his savings every time the shelter hit a snag. More than that, hewantedthese pets to find their forever homes. Most families preferred to take puppies and younger dogs, or even the kittens or more social cats. They looked at the older dogs and were never interested. Gavin always reminded them that the older dogs were better because they were already house trained and comfortable around kids. Some of them might have gone through trauma, but they were doing so much better. Then there were the dogs that someone on the internet called ‘ferocious’, so nobody adopted those. Gavin was of the belief that no dog was born ferocious and they only became that way because of the people who raised them.
Getting people to donate money was easy, it was getting them toadoptthat was the hardest part.
Bronte shrugged, unfolding another piece of paper. “Maybe they meant like a dog wash, so we can show off the dogs? Oh, this one says ‘dating app for dogs’.”
Frowning, Gavin took a sip of his coffee. “Does that person also know someone who can make us an app? Because that does sound good.”
“We have to spend more money to make money and I’m sure we can find another way to do that.”
He sighed, flipping over the scrap of paper in his hand. “Instagram. That’s all this one says.”
“Ugh, social media is exhausting.However, that isn’t a bad idea. But who knows how to use it the right way?”
“Not me. I deleted the app because my brain cells were starting to short-circuit.”
“You’re obviously using it the wrong way,” Bronte said, chucking a rolled up piece of paper at him. She pulled another one out of the box and made a face. “Speed dating, but with humans and dogs.”
“It’s not…bad, it’s just complicated?”
“The last speed dating event I went to was a shit show, so I know what it shouldn’t be.”
“Next,” Gavin said, shaking his head as he dipped into the box and pulled out a strip of paper. It wasn’t a suggestion, just four words:I love you, Bronte. “This is for you.” He turned the paper to face Bronte, smirking as she read the words.
“Aww, that’s so sweet. If only I knew who it was, I could tell them they’re not my type.”
“Since when do you have a type?” a deep voice rumbled and Gavin looked over to find Graham leaning against the doorway.
“You’re just upset that I’m not turned on by your growly, scowly, sexy mountain man vibes,” Bronte shot back and Gavin arched an eyebrow as he looked between his brother and friend. “Though, if that face was on another body, I might be into it.”
The corner of Graham’s mouth kicked up in a slow grin and Gavin frowned, pushing to his feet with his hands held up.
“Okay, that’s enough.” He turned to Bronte with wide eyes. “What is it with you and flirting with my brothers?”
“Not my fault that Papa and Mama Rhodes combined their genes and produced beautiful men.” He heard Graham chuckle, which made Bronte smile and Gavin rolled his eyes. “Are you upset that I haven’t flirted with you yet, Gav?”
“Nope,” he said, shaking his head as closed the shoebox and set it to the side. “I wouldn’t have hired you if you were flirting with me.”
