“And don’t complicate this by telling them it’s a gift,” I add under my breath. “They frown on that.”
Another volunteer guides us into a greeting room. I hand over the clipboard proving we are responsible, tax-payingcitizens with an address that allows us to make decisions like this.
As we wait, Erik looks around, nostrils flaring. “I smell urine. Are they not trained?”
“Probably not all of them,” I say. “It could be nerves.”
He surveys the toys and the jar of treats. “They deserve better. I am confident Christianna will spoil the dog. I also read that many women treat dogs like their children. This may help her maternal instincts.”
I shake my head as a pit mix pulls eagerly toward the door. White and gray. Tongue lolling. Tail wagging with reckless joy.
“That is Raindrop,” Erik says. “Dewdrop is red and looks sad. As if he has been kicked. I hoped they would bring him first. Although this one appears undernourished as well.”
Raindrop bursts into the room, pure enthusiasm, wiggling hard enough his whole body sways. His hip bones jut sharply beneath his coat, a discordant note against his joy.
Before I can stop myself, the words are out. “We’ll take him. He’s perfect.”
Erik shoots me a look. “We cannot decide until we meet Dewdrop.”
The volunteer glances between us. “Dewdrop does better with Raindrop present. He’s more comfortable that way. He’s shy.”
“Bring him,” Erik says.
“Please,” I add quickly, cutting him a look.
She gives a nervous smile. “I’ll be right back.”
Raindrop wedges himself between my legs, licking enthusiastically. I scratch behind his ears. We are not leaving without him.
The volunteer returns slowly, coaxing a red pit mix forward. Dewdrop’s ribs show just as clearly. His eyes are wide, whites visible as he scans the room, steps hesitant and unsure.
“He needs her,” Erik murmurs. “And she needs him. Christianna can give him a home. Make him feel safe.”
Erik stands, picks up Raindrop’s dropped leash, and opens the door. The moment Dewdrop sees his friend, he rushes forward, ignoring us completely. He learned early that not all people are good.
I look at the volunteer. “We’ll take them both.”
Chapter forty-seven
Erik
“They need a bath,” I say, rolling the window down only three quarters of the way.
Dewdrop looks like he might decide to take his chances with the outside world rather than two men. The only thing anchoring him is Raindrop.
“Do dogs share traits with male goats?” I ask.
“Google didn’t tell you?” Remy says. “No. They won’t smell like this after a bath.”
He sounds certain. I am not.
“She knows the Dark Angel.”
The truck jerks as Remy looks at me.
“What? Who?”
“Christianna. She named her child after her.”
