“No.” She shakes her head, throwing a thumb over her shoulder.
Craning my neck around and upward, I read the sign on the run-down building behind us. SDOC—Senior Dogs of Chicago.
“I volunteer here, and one of our dogs died. He was twelve, and it was time, but it makes me sad that he was here and not at home with someone who loved him.”
Oh, fuck. This isn’t good. Stevie’s nickname is ironic because she’s never shown a sweet side to her. Not once. And now, sitting on this curb, she decides to tell me she’s actually a total sweetheart? I don’t know if I’m ready for that to be true.
“Well, did you love him?”
“Of course. But it’s not the same. He deserved his own home with a warm bed and an owner who loved him. They just want someone to love unconditionally, but instead, they’re stuck here.”
Unconditional love. What’s going on with the universe today that those two words are being thrown my way twice before noon?
“Have you ever been in love?” Stevie’s eyes are wide and curious, her question completely sincere.
Suddenly my chest feels tight, and words have evaded me because the topic of love should not be up for discussion with the last chick I had sex with.
“Not that kind of love.” Stevie playfully rolls her eyes. “We all know you’re already in love with me.”
There she is. A bit more of her wild energy takes over, the sadness leaving from the air around us.
“Come on, Armani.” She stands from the curb, holding her hand out for mine. “You’re going to fall in love today.”
“These pants are Tom Ford, sweetheart.” I put my hand in hers, letting her believe she’s helping me up, but she’s not doing shit as I stand from the curb on my own.
“Well, they could be from Walmart for all I care. It doesn’t matter the brand name. They’re about to be covered in dog hair.”
Typically, that’d be a hell no for me, but instead, I find myself wearing too big of a smile and following the curly-haired girl into the run-down building behind us.
The small entryway is bright and cheerful, each wall a different color. But you almost can’t see the paint due to the countless Polaroids overtaking the wall. New owners with their new dogs, smiles as big as could be, reminding you of the happy times this building has seen.
A large desk sits at the end of the entryway, and when I turn the corner, my eyes widen in shock. The next room over is littered with dogs. Some big, some small, some sprawled out on the countless dog beds, others being playful with each other.
But the thing I notice most of all is the way Stevie lights up when she opens the small gate separating the entryway from the pups. When she steps inside, her smile overtakes her face as a handful of older dogs come right to her, sniffing and licking, tails wagging.
They clearly love her as much as she loves them.
“You okay?” An older woman stands on the far side of the room. When Stevie nods, the lady shoots her a half-smile before taking off behind a door, leaving us alone.
“Come on, fancy pants.” Stevie opens the gate for me. “They aren’t going to bite.”
Them biting me is not what I’m worried about. I’m a big and commanding guy. Most dogs fear me, not the other way around.
What I am worried about is seeing this sweet side to Stevie. I’m not sure if I’m ready to know this part of her exists. I’ve already been too distracted by her body that I can’t get enough of, not to mention her smartass mouth. I don’t know that I can handle finding her soul attractive too.
Setting my coffee down on the front desk, I enter the large room full of dogs. The space is bright and eclectic, with all different colored rugs covering the floor. Big pillows are thrown about, and even more dog beds are positioned around the room. The far wall is lined with crates, where a couple of pups have decided to chill, regardless of their crate doors being open for them to come out and play.
A few dogs rush me, sniffing my legs and shoes. Not as many as the number surrounding Stevie right now, but still more than I assumed. I thought they’d be intimidated by my commanding presence. But it seems like they’re just excited to have a visitor.
“That’s Bagel.” Stevie motions to the Beagle sniffing my Louboutins.
“Bagel the Beagle? Genius.”
“He got here last month, but he already has a new home.” Stevie’s voice drips with excitement and pride. “He gets picked up tomorrow.”
Plopping herself on one of the plush floor pillows, she sits crossed-legged as dogs rush her face, licking and sniffing, tails moving at a mile a minute. She doesn’t shoo them away. Instead, she embraces all their love and gives it right back to them in the form of belly rubs and scratches behind their ears.
Once they’ve settled from the commotion, most of the pups leave, going back to whatever they were doing before we walked in. Stevie turns my way, lifting a questioning brow when she notices me standing still by the gate before she motions to the ground.
Fuck it. This entire outfit is either going to need to be thrown out or dry-cleaned anyway. Stevie’s secondhand flannels and baggy jeans are making a whole lot more sense right about now.
I take a seat across from her with enough room between us that I can stretch out my long legs. A couple of dogs sniff my ears and head, but they’re unbothered by my presence for the most part.
“So.” Looking around the brightly colored room. “What is this place?”
A small white dog finds its way onto Stevie’s lap, curling up between her legs. “This place is a rescue shelter for senior dogs. Well, it’s for all dogs, really. But we advertise for senior dogs because they’re usually not chosen first, and we want them to be.”
“How often do you come here?”
“Whenever you guys are playing at home. I try to come here as much as possible when we aren’t traveling.”
Looking up from the dog she’s snuggling, she shoots me her most genuine smile. Her freckled cheeks aren’t as flush as they were when she was crying outside, and her blue-green eyes are much more bright and clear.
To be honest, in the couple of months I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her this happy. She sure as hell doesn’t look this excited to be on the airplane with us.
“Why don’t you work here full-time? You clearly love it.”
And why am I suggesting that? As much as I wanted her off the plane two months ago, I can’t imagine traveling without her to drive me insane—in more ways than one.
“Because unfortunately, adulthood costs money, and they can’t afford to pay me here. They can barely afford to keep the doors open.”
I tried to avoid lingering my stare on the cracks forming on the walls or the water spots in the corner of the ceiling, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice them. Not to mention the baseboards that could use a fresh coat of paint or the squeaky hinges on the front door that should probably be replaced.