“He looked happy enough there, didn’t he?”
I glance over at Caleb before adding quickly, “I mean, as happy as he could be in a shelter. But it was nice there. Really nice. Especially compared to some of the shelters I’ve seen.”
He regards me for a moment before giving a quick nod. “Itwasnice. I’d heard good things about Barks n’ Bliss, but I’d never seen it for myself.” A beat passes. “Have you been to many shelters for comparison?”
“A few,” I reply. “A couple years ago, I thought about getting a dog. Back when I had my own apartment in Troy. I even got as close as filling out an adoption application. But once I really thought about it, I realized I just didn’t have the time or space.”
A long-buried pang of longing hits me. There was one dog in particular—Tiny, a pit-shepherd mix who stole my heart within seconds of meeting him—who Idesperately wanted to adopt. I imagined taking him on long hikes through nearby Thacher State Park and sitting out on dog-friendly patios of local restaurants. Maybe even setting up doggie playdates with other dog owners I’d meet at the neighborhood dog park. He would be my constant companion, and I’d give him the unconditional love I’d so badly wanted for myself.
But practicality overrode emotion. With the long hours I spent at the restaurant, my tiny studio apartment barely large enough for myself, plus the training program I’d been waiting to start—it wouldn’t have been fair to adopt a dog who deserved so much more.
He got adopted by some other family not long after. Now he’s probably living out his doggie dreams in a fenced-in yard with kids around to play with him.
And one day,someday, I’ll get a dog of my own.
Caleb’s expression turns thoughtful. “I get that. A dog is a big responsibility.”
A couple engaged in lively conversation approaches from the opposite direction. They’re not paying attention to where they’re going and almost bump into me, but Caleb’s faster, and he loops his arm around my waist and tugs me out of their way.
Once they pass, he shakes his head with a scowl. “People forget they’re not the only ones on the sidewalk. They need to pay closer attention before someone ends up hurt.” Then he looks down at me. “Are you okay? They didn’t bump into you, did they?”
It’s hard to shift my focus from the feel of his arm around my waist to answering his question. “I’m fine,” I finally say. “You pulled me out of the way just in time.”
I don’t mention that if the couplehadbumped into me, they weren’t exactly going fast enough to hurt me. The worst that might have come out of it was a brief apology.
And anyway, I like his concern. It doesn’t feel like it comes from obligation. When Caleb asks me if I’m okay, it seems like he genuinely cares about me.
Well, as much as hecouldcare, given we’ve known each other for less than forty-eight hours. But right now, I’ll take what I can get.
“Anyway,” I continue, “I thought Zeus looked good. It was hard to tell his condition when I saw him the other night. With the snow and all. But aside from being a little skinny, he seemed pretty healthy.”
“He did look good,” Caleb agrees. “Dog like that, it’s hard to believe someone isn’t looking for him.”
This time, as another couple approaches, Caleb maneuvers me out of their way ahead of time, hugging me closer to his side. Heat erupts where his body touches mine, and I’m seized by an irrational urge to burrow against him.
“Rory said he didn’t have a microchip,” I say. “She’s reaching out to local vets and rescues to see if anyone reported him missing. But without a chip or a collar…”
“They’ll find him a good home, regardless.” Caleb gives me a quick squeeze before releasing me.
“It was nice that Rory let me name him.” I smile at the memory. When we arrived at the shelter for a visit, Rory asked me to pick a name for the dog, explaining that since I rescued him, it was only fitting I named him, too.
“Zeus is a great name,” Caleb remarks. “A strong name for a strong dog. He had to be to survive out there.”
Strong and sweet and just the kind of dog I’d like to adopt, if I could.
“I wish,” I start, but immediately stop myself. I have more important things to worry about, like arranging for a rental car, negotiating with the insurance companies to replace my totalled one, and finding a new place to live, just to start. Adopting a dog should be at the bottom of my list.
“You wish what?” he asks.
“Nothing.” As we come up on a storefront to our right with a sign above the door that saysDecadent Delights, I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sugar and butter and baking cookies. “It smells amazing in there.”
Caleb follows my gaze. “Do you want to grab something to eat here? I was thinking of sandwiches at the diner, but if you’d prefer this…”
“Whatever you want,” I reply. After all, Caleb’s the one who offered to treat for lunch. I wasn’t expecting it—I thought we were just making a quick trip to the shelter—but he brought up the idea of stopping for lunch as we were leaving.
“Better than canned soup,” he explained. “And if you’re going to be living in Bliss, you might as well get to know the local businesses.”
Honestly, I’m just thankful he offered to drive me to the shelter. Since I have today off, I’d been anticipating a day spent in the cabin, trying to research cheapapartments in town and searching for a second job while rationing the last of my monthly data on my phone. So it was a surprise to find him at the door just after eight AM carrying a carton of eggs, a package of sausage, and an offer to make breakfast and visit the shelter afterwards.
