Washington shoots his hands up in surrender. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
I'm watching the chaos unfold, trying to figure out how I can help, when Ace materializes by my side, still holding Candy.
"You okay?" he asks.
"I should be asking you that. You're the one who just found out your three-hour project is a two-day project."
"Not my project. Petrov's project."
"Still."
He shifts Candy in his arms. She's dozed off, completely trusting. "We need carriers. And leashes. A lot of leashes."
"On it."
We move through the shelter together, grabbing supplies from the storage room, working in sync without really talking about it. I collect leashes while Ace tests carriers to make sure they're secure with his one free hand. He refuses to let go of Candy. We pass each other in the narrow hallway, and our shoulders brush, and I'm very aware of the fact that twenty minutes ago his dick was in my mouth.
Not the time, Devon. Focus.
"I can't take any animals," I mutter as we're distributing supplies to the team. "Stupid dorm rules."
Ace doesn't miss a beat. "Come to my place. Help me take care of them."
I pause mid-hand-off of a cat carrier to Groover. "What?"
"I've got a spare bedroom. And a big living room. I can take more than just Candy." He's not looking at me, focused on adjusting a collar, but his ears are pink. "But I'll need help. You know. With the animals."
"Just the animals?"
Now he looks at me, and there's something in his eyes that makes my stomach flip. "For tonight, yeah. The animals."
The 'for tonight' is doing a lot of heavy lifting.
"Okay," I hear myself say. "Yeah. Okay."
Mama Paws appears with two more dogs—small, fluffy things that look like ambulatory cotton balls. "Can you two take these sweethearts?"
"Absolutely," Ace says.
An hour or so later, we end up with Candy, the two cotton balls (named Lulu and Boba according to their tags), two more small dogs (a Chihuahua mix named Taco and a Pomeraniannamed Sir Reginald), and two cats (a gray tabby named Smoke and an orange menace named Cheeto).
"That's a lot of animals," I point out as we're loading carriers into Ace's car.
"I have a big condo. And I'll have help." He looks at me over the roof of the car. "Right?"
"Right," I confirm, even though I'm not sure what I'm confirming anymore. Help with the animals? Help with... other things?
We get all seven animals secured—Candy in the back seat between the two carriers, the other dogs in carriers in the trunk, cats in carriers in the footwell because they're small and we ran out of space.
The shelter's slowly emptying out as everyone leaves with their temporary charges. Petrov's still on his ladder, power tool in hand, working by the light of industrial lamps someone set up.
"You sure you don't need help?" Washington calls up to him.
"I am professional. Go! Take care of animals!"
"If you fall off that ladder, I'm not covering for you with Coach!"
"I will not fall. I am Russian. We don't fall."
