A giggle escapes her. She slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” Her words are muffled behind her palm.
“Don’t be.” Don’t ever be sorry around me, I want to say, but I don’t. “Worst part, there’s photographic evidence on Facebook.”
Slowly, she lets her hand fall away. “It sucks for everyone to know about your most embarrassing moments, huh?”
I shrug. “I don’t know about that. Sometimes, if the right person knows, it can be a good thing.”
She frowns. “How’s that?”
“Lets them know that you’re relatable…that you’re human.”
One of her fingers traces the THIN BLUE LINE bumper sticker on the tailgate. “Do people forget that about you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you ever forget that about yourself?” Her ocean-colored eyes are haunted when they gaze up me.
I nod. “A couple of times. Shit. More than a couple. I’m supposed to be impartial when I arrive to a scene. Things aren’t supposed to bother me because I’m a professional—I’ve been trained, you know?”
Rubbing a hand over my neck, I glance around the parking lot. It’s just the two of us. The sun is setting, and the conversation is turning intimate. Ordinarily, this would be when a guy would use it as an opening to ask for more. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t share such things with anyone other than my partner, Dwight, or with Hayden. They know what it’s like to have unreasonable expectations of impassiveness while attempting to correct wrongs and get victims to hospitals. Or worse…
“I need a beer,” I mutter, then turn my attention back to Evangeline. “Want to grab dinner with me?”
“No.” She steps away from me, her body visibly tensing. “Look, I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone.”
What a shocking revelation. “And I’m only interested in dinner. Although, it’s a damn shame because we have a lot in common like bad knees, world peace, and car maintenance.”
Her eyebrows rise and she presses her lips inward, like she’s trying not to laugh. For a moment, I think she’s going to reconsider, but then she walks away, saying nothing.
And I let her go.
Chapter 6
Evangeline
Last night, I was this close to saying yes to dinner with Hunter. I was this close to forgetting everything I know about myself when it comes to men.
I suck at choosing the right one. Worse, I can’t trust myself to choose the right one. So it’s no one for me until…well, I don’t know exactly. What I do know is that I want to get Hunter out of my head. I want to go one day without something triggering memories of Penn—good or bad.
Barking dogs sound in the room and I smile as I lug a container of dog food to the kennel. While they get their morning workout—today it’s yoga—Bob Marley’s “One Love” starts playing and I hum along.
Thank God for the animal shelter. Thank God for Saylor.
As soon as I walk in the door, she greets me warmly. Today she is wearing an ASK ME ABOUT MY T-REX T-shirt and knee-length khaki shorts. She quickly introduces me to Lucius and Leslie. Then she goes over everything. And I mean everything. My head is still spinning from all the information, but luckily, Saylor has a detailed printout ready.
Each dog gets one scoop except for the kennels decorated with blue stars or green diamonds on the front—the rest of the dogs have red hearts so they don’t feel left out. Blue means “double” because it’s a larger dog and green means half because it’s a smaller dog.
The system makes me giggle, and Lord knows I haven’t giggled in a long time. I have Saylor to thank for that since she was the one to come up with the system. Turns out, she’s actually the manager here. However, she has to answer to a director who answers to an advisory board. Who knew running an animal shelter was so complicated?
Once I’m done with filling dog bowls, I head back to the supply room to put away the container.
“How’s it going?” Saylor asks, opening the door for me.
“So far, so good.” I lift the container to the second shelf and wipe my hands on my jeans. Immediately, Saylor comes behind me and opens the container, then refills it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I had to—”
“You don’t. I’m already here, so I thought I’d go ahead and pitch in. Usually, the last person to leave for the evening has to do this, but since it’s Leslie’s turn, I thought I’d do it for her, so she can be done a bit earlier,” Saylor explains.
“Leslie’s the one who is expecting, right?” I ask, thinking of the tall blonde with a friendly smile I had met earlier.
Saylor nods. “Yes. She goes on maternity in the next couple of weeks.”
“Y’all provide that?”
As she secures the lid on the container, she nods. “The advisory board likes to promote a family-friendly work environment.”
“Does that mean you’ll have to go back to six and a half days a week instead of five?” I ask.
“Nope. You’re here now.”
I stare at her for a moment, a ball of dread forming in my stomach. “Am I replacing Leslie?”
“Only while she’s gone.”