To be loved by you, p.2
To Be Loved by You, page 2
Ava turned to spy Olivia heading her way, her long, red hair aglow in the midday light. Ava’s own mop was as black as coal and hardly faded in the sun. This and their eye colors, Ava’s blue and Olivia’s hazel, were the first differences strangers typically commented on when they found out they were sisters. They’d both gotten their mom’s fine features and their dad’s height. Beyond the surface, their differences expanded exponentially. In their teen years, their differences had driven them apart, but in the last year or so, they’d found their way back to each other again.
Noticing the playful grin on her sister’s face, Ava pursed her lips. “Yeah, and I want to be grateful you helped me out, I really do, but I look like I’m about to teach an eighties retro aerobics class.”
Wearing an old T-shirt and cutoff jean shorts that were fitting for a dog wash, Olivia stifled a laugh as she gave her sister a once-over. “You’d need a sweatband and a pair of pastel tennis shoes for that. Besides, just like I knew you would, you look cute. Though why am I not surprised you wear my clothes better than I do?”
“Why am I surprised that you wear these clothes? Together.”
Olivia’s suppressed laughter became hearty. “I can’t say I’ve worn them together, but you’re olive-skinned and can get away with it. I’m pale and freckled. You look great…and you fill that shirt out so much better than me.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You don’t burn, and you have bigger boobs. Not fair.”
Ava waved her off. “Says the exotic redhead.” She was about to ask where she’d be stationed when Olivia took her by the elbow.
“Come on. We’re over there toward the back.”
“To what part of today’s chaotic venture have we been assigned?” She scanned the busy lot in the direction her sister was leading them.
“Washing station three, at least that’s what Patrick labeled it.”
“So, prepare to get soaked?”
“Better that than being at the shaving station for the dogs who are really knotted, if you ask me. Gabe’s stationed with us, but he might get pulled away if any of the dogs are in rough shape.”
“I can understand that, but for the dogs’ sakes, I hope there aren’t any.” Gabe was Olivia’s boyfriend of the last several months. He and his business partner, Yun, were the shelter’s main two vets who were in the process of relocating their practice to the property next door to the shelter.
“Oh, and Jeremy’s with us.” There was something in the tone of her voice—a forced sort of casual that Ava picked up on instantly.
“Who’s Jeremy?” Her flip-flops thwacked against the bottom of her feet as they crossed the asphalt. Her heart sank and leaped at the same time as they neared the far edge of the lot where Gabe was standing underneath the shade of a towering tree. A few feet away was Rolo, still off leash, sniffing a row of buckets and sponges, and not far behind him was Rolo’s owner.
So, this wasn’t the last she was going to see of him. Not even close. She swallowed back an unexpected wave of nervousness the size of which she’d not experienced since early middle school.
“He’s Gabe’s friend, if you want the short of it,” her sister was saying. “The long version is he’s related somehow to Dr. Washington, the vet whose practice Gabe took over last year.”
Please say he’s single. Wait, no, scratch that. You’re not dating right now, remember? Make that married.
Ava stopped in her tracks before they got too close, dropping her voice. “Hey, tell me the truth. This isn’t a setup, is it?”
Olivia made a face before sweeping her hand in a dramatic circle. “You’ve got me. Credit where credit is due. It wasn’t easy, locating a puppy mill to bust up and all that.”
A half snort escaped in response to her sister’s reply. “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Wait, actually, I do. I was talking to Mom this morning, and she started the conversation with how she’s hoping you’ll introduce me to ‘one of that nice vet’s friends.’” She made air quotes at the last bit.
“Ava,” Olivia said as they started walking again, “if I ever feel called to set you up without getting your permission first, I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty, I’m not going to breathe a word of it to Mom until after the fact.”
“Touché.” As they neared, Ava made eye contact with the guy again—with Jeremy—and the way her body responded, she might as well have swallowed a fish. It wasn’t just his looks. Something about him called to her, something calm and inviting, like a book with a tempting cover to pull off a shelf and peruse while sitting in a quiet corner.
Only right now she wasn’t perusing.
To breathe easy again, she had to remind herself she was the Graham sister who’d gotten her first boyfriend at twelve and hadn’t had a dull year since that wasn’t of her choosing. She was more than capable of navigating an afternoon dog wash in the company of this man without him distracting her from the big, hairy, audacious goal she’d set for herself upon moving into her sister’s place post-divorce: figuring out where she’d gotten off track with her life and getting back on.
Chapter 2
Some people noticed cars, others, sunsets and birds. Jeremy Washington, on the other hand, picked up on irony the same as Rolo picked up burrs in the woods. Here he was, a seasoned counselor for at-risk teens and creator of a burgeoning nonprofit dedicated to promoting their rebalance after trauma, yet, in the face of a slight change of routine, he was no better than an uprooted tree.
He wondered if it would come across as rude to move to a different washing station. Ideally, one where Olivia’s sister wasn’t in his line of sight.
After attaching drain hoses to the two mobile bathtubs, he dried one hand on the back of his cargo shorts, then slipped it into his pocket. His fingers locked around the two bronze coins he kept with him day and night, one marking his first month of drug and alcohol-free sobriety, his most painfully earned milestone, the other marking the eight years since that he’d been sober.
With as many service projects as his program kids had completed for High Grove the last few years, Jeremy was used to keeping his eye on a handful of teens when he was here, so it was no surprise it felt like he was forgetting something as they finished prepping their washing station. Still, he knew better than to pretend this was what had him fisting his coins and silently reciting the serenity prayer. Nope. It was Ava. He might as well be honest with himself.
He couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection sooner. As often as Gabe talked about Olivia, he’d mentioned her sister by name at least a handful of times. If he’d said her occupation, too, Jeremy couldn’t remember, but he certainly hadn’t connected the dots.
For months, while walking his dog, Jeremy had glanced at Ava’s real-estate ad on a bus stop bench near his Lafayette Square home and had never once managed to remain one hundred percent unaffected by it. Black hair, blue eyes, a remarkable smile, that body. If he had a type, it was Ava Graham.
The thing was, Jeremy had worked hard over the last several years not to have a type. Like a grandfather clock with its multitude of parts intricately working together, his cram-packed life worked better that way.
Attentive as ever, Rolo was on his feet from where he’d spread out under the shade of a big oak a few minutes ago to watch the commotion, content to stay put so long as Jeremy was in his line of sight. Even amidst all the chaos, Rolo didn’t miss a trick when it came to his owner. Over their five years together, the dog had connected Jeremy’s coin fiddling with a greater sense of internal distress. He pressed against Jeremy’s leg and whined until Jeremy bent down to offer him a reassuring pat. “Hey, buddy, it’s all good.”
Rolo circled back and leaned his opposite side against Jeremy’s leg, studying all the commotion behind the shelter, his mouth gaping open. He then flicked his tail and looked up at Jeremy, his brown eyes focused and attentive as he watched for his next cue.
Jeremy had no idea what had made Rolo run over to check Ava out in the parking lot earlier. He himself hadn’t recognized her until her phone rang; then he’d taken off with the skill of an old recluse who’d completely lost touch with his manners.
“Do you think he’s thirsty?” Ava asked from a few feet away, having overheard him reassuring his dog.
Somehow understanding she was talking about him, Rolo trotted over to where she was dropping big sponges into the three suds-filled buckets to which she’d added a hypoallergenic dog shampoo and then filled them with water. He whined and shoved his head under her free hand in hopes of a petting.
Ava dropped the last sponge into the final sudsy bucket and sank onto her heels, fisting Rolo’s wide jowls in both hands before giving him a hearty scratch. Clearly, she was a fan of big dogs who had no boundaries. When Olivia had officially introduced them earlier, Ava had guessed half of Rolo’s breed, long-haired German shepherd, but had incorrectly put it to Rottweiler contributing to his bulky frame and black and brown fur rather than the half Bernese mountain dog that he was. “You’re so cute, you’ll melt me into a puddle, I swear. Those ears—the way they stand straight and fold over at the tips—it’s almost too much cuteness in one package.”
Jeremy chuckled at her enthusiasm, and she glanced his way just as he was doing his best not to notice how squatting brought out the definition in those never-ending thighs of hers. In person, her eyes weren’t an ordinary blue; they were the sky blue of early summer. Looking into them made his lungs constrict.
Turning away, he fiddled with the hose connection to have something to do as they waited for their first dog. Why did it suddenly feel as if an afternoon of working so closely with her was going to tempt disaster just as strongly as an open bottle of Jack on his most stressful days?
While he wasn’t the volatile mess he’d once been, he knew what he could handle, and Ava Graham didn’t fit into that category. Eight years ago, he’d walked away from a short-lived and destructive marriage to a fellow addict and alcoholic after getting the wake-up call of his life. Since then, he’d managed to get sober, agonizing as it had been, and had gradually assembled a life that not only worked for him, but also was one that he fully believed was his calling.
He reminded himself he’d proved capable of doing hard things. An afternoon of dog washing with Ava Graham wasn’t going to be his undoing.
“I’m sure there’s an extra water bowl or two inside…or a hundred, more likely,” she added. “I can run in and grab one if you’d like.”
It occurred to him that he hadn’t answered her about whether he thought Rolo was thirsty. You dolt. “Thanks, but no need. There’s a dog fountain on the hill by the play areas. I can run him up there while you grab our first dog, assuming we’re ready to get started.”
Ava patted Rolo on the top of the head and stood, totally unaware of the roller coaster of emotions she was awakening in Jeremy. She glanced over at the small team of people unloading the crates from the truck and vans. “Sounds good to me.”
Luck would have it that it was down to just the two of them for the moment. As the crated dogs had begun being unloaded, Gabe had been called off to look at one who’d drawn the concern of one of the drivers. When the crated dog had been hauled inside, Jeremy hoped it wasn’t anything serious and selfishly wondered if his friend would be back anytime soon. Then Olivia had jogged inside to grab a pile of towels, leaving Jeremy alone with Ava and reaching for his coins.
As Ava headed across the lot, he called his dog. “Come on, Rolo. Let’s grab you a drink.” Rolo obligingly followed him up the shaded hillside away from the small crowd in the parking lot. The normally bustling play and training areas were empty for the afternoon since all available staff and volunteers were focused on the dog wash.
Proving not to be overly thirsty, Rolo still lapped up a couple licks of fresh water before returning his attention to the commotion below. That was life with Rolo; so long as Jeremy was fine, Rolo was fine. The irony that Jeremy was making a career of teaching people how to be the healthiest versions of themselves yet was the owner of a heavily codependent mutt was one of the finer ones in his life.
“It’s only ghosts, boy, that’s all. Once I get my shit together, it’s going to be like any other day here, except there’s going to be a few hundred dogs moving through.”
He’d brought along a tie-out cable to use if he had to, but he was betting on his dog settling down once things got moving. Rolo wasn’t jealous of other dogs, and he didn’t mind how they passed their days, so long as he was within eyesight of Jeremy.
Jeremy patted Rolo heartily before heading back down the hillside, appreciating the hollow thump of his hand against Rolo’s chest. At the edge of the lot, he pointed to the strip of grass alongside the tree where Rolo had been lying earlier. “Lie down, Rolo.”
With a whine that dragged out like a protest, Rolo sank next to the tree in doggy slow motion.
“Good boy.” Jeremy headed back to the washing station as Ava returned empty-handed from the other side of the lot.
“Patrick’s bringing our first one over in a minute. I think he wants to make sure we’ve got ‘the plan’ down.” She had beautiful teeth when she smiled and a great mouth. Inviting lips.
Jeremy flexed his fingers to keep from reaching back into his pocket for the comfort of his coins. “Sounds like Patrick. How well do you know him?”
Ava shrugged. “Enough to know he’s both brilliant and quirky.”
“That’s him, all right. Just making sure you didn’t need a heads-up about not having to remember every detail the way he does.”
“I doubt I could if I tried.” That smile again. “So, how long have you volunteered here? My sister said you’re related to Dr. Washington.”
“Yeah, he’s my uncle. He introduced me to this place when I was a teenager. I’ve been doing service projects here with my program kids the last few years, but I helped with the occasional fundraiser before that.” He nodded toward his dog, who was getting comfortable again, watching them and thumping his tail in a slow, relaxed motion that gave Jeremy hope he’d stay put for a while. “And I adopted him from here five years ago.”
“No wonder he’s so comfortable here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have said that when I first got him. To put it lightly, he was a mess. Twenty-four seven. It took a couple years for him to really calm down, no matter where we were.”
Ava’s hand clamped over her chest, and her mouth turned down in a frown. “That’s sad. I hate when animals have a rough go of it.”
“Agreed, though you’d hardly know it now with him.” He cocked his head. “Unless you leave him alone. Then he’s a mess all over again.”
“Aww. I’m guessing you have to kennel him when you leave then?”
“I used to, but not anymore. Getting him in is a feat, and he cries for hours. Mostly I try not to leave him alone.” He was about to mention Rolo’s well-worn plush cat toy that traveled with him between the house and van most days but stopped himself. “My landlords are usually home, but they’re out of town this weekend, or I wouldn’t have dragged him to this.”
As if knowing he was the center of their attention, Rolo plopped his head onto the ground, thumped his tail faster, and whined.
“I’m not even kidding when I say he’s the cutest dog I’ve ever seen.” When she made eye contact with Jeremy, her smile faltered for half a second before she turned away. “Here comes Patrick, and look at that dog. That’s one of the Maltipoos, I’m guessing?”
He eyed the short-legged ball of curly, golden fluff Patrick was encouraging without much luck to walk alongside him. “I can’t say I know my doodles and poos well enough to answer that.”
She laughed again, soft and easy. There was a small, faded scar on her collarbone that looked like a sideways check mark. Everyone had scars, visible or not, but Jeremy wanted to know what had caused that one. “Me, either, but Tess said if Ewoks had pets, they’d be Maltipoos, and I have to say, I’m seeing it with that one.”
Jeremy chuckled as Patrick gave up attempts to urge the dog along and picked it up. “Me, too, now that you mention it. And I guess one thing that can be said about all these hypoallergenic breeds is that no one here should be sneezing today.”
“Actually, that’s a misnomer,” Patrick said as he walked up, overhearing them. “No dogs are one hundred percent hypoallergenic. Though you’re correct these breeds with their nonshedding coats have less dander. But I anticipate that with the sludge that’ll be washing off them, anyone here suffering from seasonal allergies will need a dose of diphenhydramine tonight.”
Only Patrick. God love him. “Good point.”
As Patrick placed the dog on the ground, Ava must’ve spotted the filthy condition of the dog’s coat at the same time Jeremy did, because she let out a gasp. The poor dog was trembling, and its tail was tightly tucked against its hind end.
Ava sank down and held out her hand, but the dog scooted back as far as it was able. “You poor thing. I knew this was going to be rough. Who could let a dog get so dirty?”
“Two breeders with two hundred and ninety-six dogs in their care,” Patrick answered matter-of-factly. “None of the ones we’ve handled so far have had much, if any, socialization. We don’t have enough harnesses, so be mindful not to let them slip the leash.”
When the dog had zero interest in approaching Ava, she stood, and Patrick passed her the leash. Olivia made it back with an armful of towels, her lower lip curled downward at sight of the dog as well.
Patrick surveyed their station, which consisted of the two elevated tubs that were portable dog bathing and grooming stations—something Jeremy hadn’t known existed before today—a cart with several bottles of hypoallergenic shampoo and extra sponges, a hose with a soft spray tip, and the buckets of sudsy water. “Looks like you’ve got everything on my checklist. The focus this afternoon should be to give the dogs a quick wash to get the bulk of the dirt off. The ones who stay at High Grove will get baths again when they come out of quarantine, and I suspect the rest will get baths wherever they end up.”
