He grunted.
The small dog with three legs stopped and gave Finley begging eyes. She scooped it into her arms. “Are we agreed that you’re enough of a genius to handle Furry Tails’ tech needs?”
“We’re agreed.”
“Excellent.” Carrying the dog, she led him back inside. After she pushed open the door markedOfficeswith her foot, they walked into a room with three desks on one side, facing windows. An island with storage below and a worktop above was positioned at the center of the space. A printer, copier, fax machine, water cooler, coffee bar, and mini fridge filled the wall across from the desks.
“This is our central work area. And this desk will be yours.” Supporting the dog with one hand, she indicated the desk farthest from the hallway with the other. “Do you have a computer, or do you need me to supply one?”
“I brought my own desktop computer. It’s in my truck.”
“Perfect. These two desks belong to Kat and Trish. They’re working today, but not in the office. They’re out doing home visits for prospective adoptive parents.”
Home visits? Was the bar to adopt a one-eyed dog high? He couldn’t imagine how she found homes for any of these animals.
“Kat handles adoptive parent training, volunteer committees, grants, the spay and neuter clinics, and all the paperwork and financials. Trish is the liaison for veterinary care, fundraisers, and the pet food pantry.”
“And what do you do?”
“I communicate with everyone who reaches out to us, which takes quite a bit of my time. I get more than a hundred daily emails and phone calls. I speak at events. Meet with donors. Stay in contact with the county pound. We all split the care and training of the animals.”
“You said I was the fifth employee. Who’s the fourth?”
“Akira, who runs our after-school program.” The dog with three legs sneezed. “I’m anticipating that you’ll spend most of your time at the computer. The rest with the animals.”
“I’m not experienced with animals.”
“Not a problem.”
Maybe not for her.
“We’ll teach you everything you need to know,” she said. A door at the end of the work area led to a smaller room. “This is my office. Please, have a seat.”
She’d painted the walls dark turquoise. Her shag rug seemed like a weird choice for a building that included dogs who might not be house-trained. More cacti were grouped on her Lucite desk next to a lamp, a mug, and an alabaster statue of a pug.
They sat.
It was hard to take her seriously while a dog was draped across her lap like a blanket.
“You make that chair look small and uncomfortable,” she said, obviously amused.
“That’s because it’s both.” Her chair was large and yellow. His was little and patterned, with shiny metal armrests.
“It’s neither,” she countered warmly. “I think it’s just that you’re large and predisposed to discomfort.”
He held her gaze but didn’t reply.
Finley did not subscribe to stereotypes.
That didn’t mean that she failed to note the characteristics of the people she met. She did note them. She just refrained from sticking people into boxes based on those characteristics.
She’d grown up running free across her father’s acres. With a tangle of hair flying behind her and a pack of animals dancing at her heels. It hadn’t been a conventional childhood, and she viewed herself as open-minded.
So, despite the fact that Luke Dempsey fit neatly into a box markedEx-Con, she steadfastly refused to place him there.
His barricaded hazel eyes were thrown into prominence by his light tan. He had a regal nose that would have suited a nineteenth-century Italian prince. His lips formed a straight, serious line. Thick scruff covered the lean angles of cheekbones and jaw. His hair was a beautiful shade of dark brown. He’d cut it in a masculine style that had grown out so much that some of the strands were almost long enough to catch in his eyelashes. He wore a gray hoodie beneath a black leather jacket. His black jeans ended at lace-up boots.
She didn’t often feel short around men, but he was several inches taller than she was. Six foot two, maybe? His muscular body moved with both defensiveness and the smoothness of an athlete. Had she not already known him to be thirty-three, she’d have guessed him to be slightly older.
