Evie shook her head. “I think it’s better I just chill for a while when it comes to men. I’d rather focus on The Sanctuary. It’s filled with sweet dogs that are probably more loyal than any man I know.”
“True dat,” Ridley said.
“What do you need from us regarding The Sanctuary?” Ashanti asked.
Evie pressed her palm to her forehead and slid into a cream-colored leather seat at the table.
“Honestly, there’s so much that I’m not sure where to even start.” She held her hands up. “No. That’s a lie. I do know the first place to start. The website is an atrocious, obsolete mess. Oooh!” She reached across the table and picked up a blue and white package. “Can I have a cookie?”
“It’s called a biscuit,” Ridley said in a horrible British accent. Then, in her normal voice, said, “Take the entire pack. I brought a bunch of them home with me.”
Evie pulled out a thin cookie—biscuit—and bit into it.
“There’s nowhere for people to donate online to The Sanctuary,” she continued. “There’s not even a Facebook page.”
“That’s a minimum,” Ashanti said.
“Even I know they should have a Facebook page, and I hate that hellscape,” Ridley said.
“Do you think Kara can build us a website?” Evie asked. Ashanti’s seventeen-year-old sister was a genius at that kind of stuff. She had been in charge of Barkingham Palace’s social media when everything went viral last year. “I’ll pay her out of my own pocket.”
“It’s a nonprofit, so it would count toward her community service hours.”
“Perfect,” Evie said, her shoulders drooping with the relief that washed over her.
She’d anticipated Ashanti and Ridley coming through for her, and they did not disappoint. Not that she ever expected them to. She had been able to count on Ashanti since the day she met her back as an undergrad at LSU. The same went for Ridley, though her help tended to come with a side of salty commentary Evie could often do without.
“Is that all you need from Kara? A website?” Ashanti asked.
“The website is just the start. The Sanctuary doesn’t have a social media presence at all.” Evie grabbed the package of cookies—these were coming with her—and went to collect her bag and her dog. “I’ll let you know what comes out of my dinner tonight with Bryson.”
“I know one thing that should come—” Ridley started, but Evie stopped her, pointing two fingers in her direction.
“Don’t finish that statement.”
Ridley held her hands high. “I’m just saying.”
“Let’s go, Waffles,” Evie said. “We have fifteen minutes to get to the restaurant.”
“You’re bringing the dog on your date?” Ridley asked.
“Yes, and it’s not a date,” Evie said.
She put her hands in the air again. “If you say so.”
“Have fun on your non-date,” Ashanti added with a laugh.
Goodness, what was she going to do with those two? Well, besides keep them. Evie knew she would never find better friends.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Evie noticed Bryson’s Jeep pull into the paid parking lot across the street from the restaurant, and her already accelerated heart rate sped up even more.
“Okay, Waffles, they’re here,” she murmured to her dog.
It had been a long time since she’d been out on a first date—this was not a date! Damn Ridley and Ashanti for putting that in her head. Although the semantics of whether it was a date didn’t matter. What mattered were the butterflies flittering around her stomach as if she were a two-year-old on a sugar high. If she didn’t get control over her nerves soon, she wouldn’t be able to eat a thing.
Her eyes tracked Bryson’s movements as he waited at the crosswalk at the corner of Magazine and St. Joseph’s Streets.
