“Morning.” He gestures to the two containers with his chin. “I’ll get those to where they need to be. Then, I’ll get the animals situated, and we can get started on the trailer when you’re ready.”
I’m like a deer in headlights. This man means business. “Can I get you anything? A cup of coffee?”
“No, ma’am.” He’s already aligning one of the dumpsters.
“Okay. I just have a couple more things to do inside. I’ll meet you when you’re done in the barn.”
He tips that black cowboy hat and begins pushing the first trash bin, the wheels protesting loudly, but he maneuvers it like it weighs nothing.
Ezra is huge. I watch his muscular back move inside his white tee shirt, and swallow the saliva pooling in my mouth.
Down, girl.
But there’s something about him I can’t put my finger on. Something different that I can only hope I’ll one day learn.
Inside, I return to my laptop that’s using my cell phone as a hotspot for internet access—just one more thing I need to address, and quickly—and finish my application for a business credit card, for which I was instantly approved.
The Pepper name comes in handy some days.
Before I’d come back out to Crescent Lake, I’d handled the business ownership transfer, and that was when I learned that the official name of the place wasMajorie’s Memories.
I’d felt like I’d been shot through the heart. The one woman Jim belonged to, the Omega he could never have. He never looked at another woman again and spent the rest of his life alone with his animals, and sometimes me.
While I’d been sad for Uncle Jim, I was pretty angry with that woman who had no hand in the creation of this sanctuary. So, I changed the official business name toSpringer's Sanctuary.The first beloved pup I bonded with here always held such a special place in my heart, and I knew that both she and Jim would approve of the change.
The sanctuary was under my care now.
The new business name would be on the credit cards. Two of them, one for me and another for Ezra. I’m sure that he’ll need tobuy things for Pie and Gator and use his truck for it, so I’ll need to be sure that he uses the card to pay for materials and gas.
I let the dogs out again for a while so they can play and bask in the rising sun, and I run upstairs to change into a pair of old jeans and an old tee, slip on equally old and dirty sneakers, and grab my work gloves that I’d set out on the dresser the night before.
I didn’t know what time Ezra would arrive, but I should have guessed he’d be early, given his ranching background. He probably even waited a while to roll up, for my sake.
Which is good, because I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. I’m definitely going to need a nap this afternoon to survive.
With my phone in my back pocket, I bring in the dogs and head out to the old trailer, looking at the driveway to see if the second bin was moved, and of course, it was.
Pie and Gator are out of the barn, Pie eating out of some raised metal bin, and Gator rolling in what looks like some fresh, golden hay.
Ezra approaches me from the gate. When he’s only a couple of feet away, he says, “I picked up an order of hay and feed on my way here this morning. Lloyd set it up and told me where to go.”
“Oh,” I breathe. Holy shit, I was supposed to go there today. I didn’t realize they’d be open so early. “Thank you so much. Tell me how much it was so I can pay you back.”
He’s already shaking his head. “Lloyd said it was a gift. Now, why don’t we get started on this trailer? I’ll pull the junk out, and you can go over everything on the lawn.” He reaches into his back pocket for his own set of work gloves, tan, dirty, and worn-in.
As I follow him to the trailer, I say, “I can help pull stuff out. I don’t want you to do it all on your own, that’s not right.”
He stops outside the door and turns to me, his face serious. “We don’t know what all is in there, ma’am. There could be critters or venomous spiders. You let me handle this, and you sift through everything out here in the open.”
He leaves no room to argue, opening the door and heading inside where the sun can’t reach.
Well, this isn’t going to be good.
“I’ll be right back,” I call into the trailer and run back to the house to grab the one thing I hadn’t thought of ahead of time. A flashlight.
There’s a large, rechargeable one inside the garage, and I slip the freshly charged battery into the port, load up a depleted one in the charging cradle, and run back out to the trailer, climb the steps, and turn the light on for Ezra. He turns back at me the moment I do, and goes to reach for the light.
“You need two hands, big guy. Let me do this for you.”
