Cheryl Harper - Heart's Refuge

Will was actually spending time with Chloe. He must be brave.

“It really hasn’t. But I’m willing to agree with part of her argument.”

“Does that mean you want to adopt a cat?” Sarah asked, the corners of her mouth twitching.

Will grunted. “Not if I can help it. And if I catch you planting the suggestion, I’ll have to devise a devious form of payback for you and Chloe both, something involving a mall but not me.” But he wouldn’t sabotage her shot at funding. Because Will Barnes was a good man, with integrity.

She tried to imagine him bailing on Chloe, even for her own good, and the picture wouldn’t form. Maybe he had trouble in small, day-to-day things, but Chloe could count on him for the big stuff.

Once, Sarah would have said the same thing about her own father.

“Your threat lacks some sting.” Sarah would dance through the racks at Neiman Marcus given a chance and a credit card. “Malls are wonderful.”

“The last time Chloe and I shopped for jeans, I was pretty sure someone had replaced my baby girl with an evil imposter. One who cried. A lot.” Will’s gruff voice suggested he could have handled almost anything but that.

“That’s your problem. Many women cry when they try on jeans.”

His chuckle made her grin so hard her cheeks hurt. And the blush filled her cheeks again.

Why was she enjoying this conversation so much? She’d flirted with doctors and lawyers and men with yachts. Talking with Will about his daughter filled her with a warm glow of comfort. Laughing with him convinced her life was about to get easier.

“I know you want to get the adoptions going again. Just don’t count on Chloe and Jelly to start it off,” Will said.

“This time next month, things will be different. I know it.” She straightened in her chair. “And it’ll be thanks to you, Will.”

She jotted a note to add a thank-you card to the shopping list. Squinting at the note made her realize that he wouldn’t be able to read her handwriting anyway, so she almost crossed it out again.

“So, I’ll be ready on Monday. How about early? Eight?” Sarah bit her lip. She hoped she could be ready by then.

“Uh, sure.”

“Is that a problem? Do you have clients scheduled?” Sarah traced the number eight over and over at the top of her pad. She’d have to get a predawn start so that Shelly didn’t have to feed and water all the animals by herself.

Predawn start? What kind of crazy talk is that? Feeding and watering the animals is Shelly’s job.

“I didn’t picture you as the early-bird type,” Will said. His voice had lost some of its warmth.

“Oh, I’m not. Never have been.” Sarah sighed. Living in the shelter’s office meant fewer hair products and cosmetics. An unlikely silver lining. “But I can make it if you can.”

“I’ll see you at eight, then.”

Before he could hang up, she blurted, “Will, without your help, I’m not sure... Well, you’ll get as many tail wags as you like here at Paws for Love. Free dog hair for life, okay?”

Then she wrinkled her brow. Stupid. You’re trying to convince him you’ve got a solid businesswoman inside. That sounded like you routinely put a heart over every i .

But his quiet laugh eased some of the disappointment that was making her shoulders droop. “Good to know. A little dog hair now and then is exactly what I need.”

Sarah hung up the phone and stared over at Bub, who was blinking at her from his perch on the couch. “Don’t get up. I’ve got this taken care of.”

He licked his lips and then shoved his nose back under his tail.

“Some assistant you are. Better watch out. I’ll replace you as soon as I have the chance.” Although spending time with a real, live human who answered her would take some getting used to.

“All right. New list. Estimates I Need. Fence, roof, signage, flooring, paint...” Everything about the place needed an overhaul. Four months ago, she’d had visions of a new, fancy, streamlined lobby with interactive videos and digital boards that would be updated as dogs and cats came and went. Now she wanted electricity.

“Just the first round, Sarah. Focus. There’ll be plenty of time for dreaming big later.”

The cash register sound signifying a text snagged her attention. She fumbled the phone before gripping it tightly enough to make the plastic creak.

Take care of business.

The number was unfamiliar. But her father’s favorite exit line—the one he’d always delivered on his way out the door of Hillman Luxury Autos—was so familiar.

He was okay. Somewhere, her father was able to text.

From a number she didn’t recognize.

Where are you?

Sarah chewed her fingernail while she waited. Ten minutes of glaring at her phone was enough to give her a headache.

“Business. Take care of business.” Sarah carefully set the phone down and turned back to the mess on her desk. That text was enough to keep her going for a few more days. She could count on her father to fix everything. All she had to do was hold on a little bit longer.

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