“The bitchy one? You’re worried about her? Sweetheart, I can keep a secret.”
“What happened to the whole ‘I don’t lie’ thing?” Cocking my brow, I hold his eye, testing him.
His hand grips my hip, fingers curling, pulling me into him. His assertive touch ignites my whole body, but I push the fire down, needing to extinguish it.
“This lie would be worth it.” He wets his lower lip before pulling it between his teeth, his gaze locked on my mouth.
Swallowing hard, I take a large step back. Well, as large as I can manage in this tiny galley. Zanders’ hand falls from my hip as I pin my arms across my chest, needing to use them as a makeshift barrier.
“It was a one-time thing.”
Zanders shakes his head, not buying it. “It was a one-time thing until it’s not.”
He turns to head back to his seat, leaving me alone in the galley. But before he goes, he quickly looks back, his eyes raking down my body, taking in every inch. “Because one time sure as hell wasn’t enough for me and I don’t think it was for you either.”
I squeeze my thighs together, my face flush with the memory of last night.
“Oh, and I’ll take a sparkling water.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him for the thousandth time, “It’s in the cooler.”
“Extra lime, Stevie Sweetheart.” Zanders’ overly smug face wears a satisfied smile as he saunters his way back to his seat.
19
STEVIE
“Rosie girl, when are we going to get you adopted?”
Of course, the question is rhetorical, seeing as Rosie is a beautiful black and tan five-year-old Doberman who can’t answer me.
I give her one more scratch behind the ears before locking up her crate for the night as Rosie’s big body curls up on the fleece blanket I thrifted for her last week. She’s plenty comfortable in her crate, which makes sense. She’s lived here for an entire year already.
I’ve only lived in Chicago for a few months, but from what Cheryl, the shelter owner, told me, I’m Rosie’s favorite.
Most people think she’s scary from the outside, but Rosie is a sweet softie on the inside, with plenty of love to give, as long as it’s for the right person.
“You really should take that sweet girl home with you.” Cheryl stands behind me as I stay sitting in front of Rosie’s crate, watching her fall asleep.
“If only I could. Twin brother is still allergic.”
“Ehh. I think I’d trade the brother for the dog.”
“I contemplate it sometimes,” I tease. “I can close up for you tonight.”
Cheryl brushes me off. “Stevie, you are twenty-six years old, and it’s a Saturday night. I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out here with an old lady and some old dogs.”
Cheryl may be a sixty-something-year-old widow, but there’s nothing old about her. She’s still got a total pep in her step and works insane hours at the shelter. And that’s because she loves this place and these dogs, as do I.
Senior Dogs of Chicago is a nonprofit that Cheryl and her late husband founded, rescuing dogs from kill shelters or taking in abandoned pups that families had the audacity to give up once their family pet got too old for them.
Don’t get me started on it. I don’t cry too often, but it happens every single time an older dog gets dropped off by its owners for some god-awful excuse or another.
How do you not choose the one who has loved you unconditionally?
The building has started to get run-down ever since Cheryl’s husband passed away, and unfortunately, most people still choose to buy puppies over adopting an older animal. The donations are slim to none, barely keeping the doors open and keeping food in the dogs’ bowls.
My brother Ryan is our biggest donator, and I think that’s because he feels guilty I can’t bring any of them home.
I’d spend all my time here if I could, but unfortunately, it doesn’t pay the bills. Not that I have many, I don’t even pay rent. But, when I do move out, I need to keep my paying job to make ends meet.
“Seriously, Stevie, go have fun!” Cheryl takes a seat at the front desk, slides her glasses up her nose, and begins to organize the pile of bills I’m afraid she doesn’t have enough money to cover.
Do I tell Cheryl that my version of fun is putting on my softest pair of sweatpants and curling onto the couch to watch movies, seeing as Ryan is playing in a road series and Indy is on a date with her boyfriend? No, I keep that little fact to myself. I let her think she’s living vicariously through me, but to be honest, Cheryl probably has a more exciting life than I do.