A Daughter's Homecoming. Ginny Aiken

shrugged.

      He went on. “My mom’s always said once you feed a stray, you’re pretty much stuck with it for life.”

      “That better not be the case this time.” She sighed. “I can’t keep him.”

      “So what are you going to do with him?”

      Her question precisely. “Not sure yet. I’m thinking.”

      “The animal shelter’s got a new director.” Dylan fingered the steel ball on the stud through his eyebrow. “He’s supposed to have fixed it up, fired the slackers, hired new people, scrubbed even the ceiling and turned it into a no-kill place.”

      “And you know all this because...?”

      He quirked his lips. “It was a real big deal in town a couple of months ago. The new director came up from Sacramento with all kinds of new ideas. Some people didn’t like it, others loved it. But everybody had something to say about it.”

      “If you’re sure it’s a no-kill shelter, then it’s probably the best place for this little guy.”

      “Unless you keep—”

      “I know.” She sighed again. She wished she could. Something about the ragtag critter drew her right in. Maybe it was his ready friendliness and overwhelming trust. Or maybe his eyes. “I can’t. I really can’t. I’m going back to my life in Cleveland as soon as things are settled here for my parents, and I can’t keep pets in my rental.”

      “That’s too bad.” He gestured at the stray. “He really likes you.”

      The dog barked as though he agreed with Dylan. And with Gabi. The unexpectedly likable stray stared at her with his enormous brown eyes beneath that tangle of muddy brown hair. He tugged at her heart, but she couldn’t change reality.

      “Okay, then. That’s the plan.” She cradled the scrap of ratty fur and bones in her arms and then stood. “I’ll take him over to the shelter. Can you hold down the fort while I’m gone? It won’t take long.”

      After Dylan handed her the purse she kept on a shelf near the back door, Gabi hurried down the street to the old shelter building, stray in her arms. For years the place had been known as a dismal pit, populated with unwanted pets captured by Animal Control. It had been in need of a different kind of someone to take over the reins. She hoped this director knew what he was doing. The pooch in her arms and all the other discards deserved it.

      Her little guy’s pink tongue darted out and he licked her chin.

      Tears welled in Gabi’s eyes. He was going to make someone a great pal. Too bad it wouldn’t be her.

      * * *

      For a thirty-year-old failure, Zachary Davenport figured he was finally getting it right. He turned off the water at the steel sink where they bathed the small and mid-size dogs relinquished to the Lyndon Point Animal Shelter and grabbed the towel on top of the tall stack of clean linen. A hint of the crisp, familiar scent of chlorine bleach in the fabric struck his senses, and he smiled in satisfaction.

      When he’d first arrived to assume his position at the shelter, the only thing he’d smelled had been ammonia from unkempt animal cages. Shocked to the core, he’d fired every last employee and declared war against the sad conditions. He’d hired a new crew, invited a group of caring volunteers to join their efforts and bought all the commercial disinfectant cleaner he could get his hands on. Armed with scrub brushes and hoses, he and his team had set about to transform the shelter. His furry-haired charges might have been unwanted and mistreated in their previous situations, but now that they were under his care, they would have a much better quality of life.

      He wiped up the water he’d splashed and dripped with his used towel before tossing it in the wheeled white-cloth laundry bin. As the managing director he didn’t have to shoulder the minutiae of the rescue’s daily chores, but he loved animals, and if he went too long without contact with the dogs and cats, he missed them.

      He loved what he was doing these days.

      What he didn’t love were the occasional memories and jabs of guilt that struck when he least expected them. Zach wondered if he’d ever forget, if he would ever put his past behind him and really move on—

      “Hey, boss!” Claudia called from the front desk, mercifully dragging him back to the present. “We’ve got a new one—just walked in—and he’s cute, too. But I have to hit the road if I’m going to get to the orthodontist in time for Eva’s appointment.”

      “Things are under control here, so go ahead.” He hung up the waterproof apron and snagged an intake folder from his office on the way to the reception area. “Really, Claudia, there’s nothing to worry about. As long as Oscar’s still out back, he and I can handle whatever comes in while you’re gone.” He waved the folder as he pushed through the swinging door. “See? I’m prepared.”

      Claudia smiled, slung her bag over her shoulder and walked to the door. “See ya in a couple of hours!”

      Another step, and Zach stopped. Oh, sure. The dog was cute. But the woman who held the filthy creature in her arms was much cuter. She stood, if lucky, a couple of inches over five feet, and her dirt-stained pink T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts displayed nicely rounded curves. On her feet, she wore a pair of pink flip-flops, revealing toenails painted hot pink.

      She must really like the happy color.

      She looked vaguely familiar, but he knew he’d never met her. He wouldn’t have forgotten if he had.

      A thin line etched itself between her eyebrows as midnight-dark eyes darted from the neat counter to the clean but worn chairs and finally to him. She nibbled her bottom lip. More than anything else, the riot of curls she wore leashed into a thick ponytail snared his gaze. The sunlight poured in through the glass front door and her inky-black locks caught it, reflecting back vibrancy and life. As he stared, he couldn’t stop a smile.

      He held out his hand in greeting, his gaze still on her swinging curls. “Hi. Zach Davenport, the shelter’s director. How can I help you?”

      She clamped her lips, then tipped up her rounded chin, arms tighter around the dog, who snuggled into the curve of her neck. Okay. The lady had rejected the handshake. The only thing on her mind was the filthiest Heinz 57 canine he’d seen in a long time. Feeling stupid, he slipped his hand back into his pants pocket and rattled the intake papers.

      “Let’s start with—”

      “Please promise he’ll get a fair deal here.”

      Zach blinked. Talk about direct. Fortunately, in this instance, he had a clear conscience. He smiled again and pointed to the No-Kill emblem on the glass door. “We don’t give these fellows expiration dates, and we do our best for them. We clean them, feed them, nurse them to health if they need it, and do everything possible to find them good forever homes.”

      The stiffness in her shoulders eased a fraction as she clung to his every word.

      The dog wriggled in her clutches.

      She glanced down at her bundle of fur, and a slow, sweet grin revealed a dimple in her right cheek. But then she drew herself back up, squared her shoulders and met Zach’s gaze.

      Her brown eyes reminded him of melted chocolate, with their anxious expression. As his gaze latched on to hers, Zach felt a surprising need to reassure her about the dog’s future care, so he took a step closer.

      * * *

      He caught himself, stopped. As appealing as she was, he was a professional and he couldn’t afford to let this woman distract him from his work. She spoke again with the bedraggled pile of dirty dog held close as though it were Lassie or Benji or even Toto come back to life. He gave her stray another look. Not a chance. This one was scruffy and muddy. Time to get to work. They had a dog in need to deal with.

      He stepped closer, ready to take hold of her charge, then took a deep breath—and reared back. Oof!