Page 76

I gather it closer to my chest, her warmth spreading through me with an unexpected sense of calm.

“It’s so tiny,” I tell Ethel, the animal shelter’s manager. “How did she end up here?”

“Someone found the whole litter in a box in a back alley. Two of them didn’t make it. Coco here is too small still, but she’s a survivor.”

A survivor. “It must be heartbreaking to see so much suffering.”

“It’s painful to know how cruel people can be, but I love my job. I get enough love from these innocent creatures to mend the heartbreak. Would you like to see the entire facility?”

“We should wait for Cormac. He’ll be here any minute.” I lean down to inhale the kitten, smiling to myself. There is something therapeutic about holding the furry ball.

“He should be here by now,” Betsy grumbles from the corner, where she’s been on the phone ever since she arrived.

“So what’s the plan here? You give us a check and we pose for pictures?” Ethel asks, and something tells me she’s been through this rodeo many times.

“Pretty much.” Betsy joins us, eyeing Coco with suspicion.

“Are you more of a dog person, Betsy?” I ask, and Corm’s handler looks at me with horror.

“Let me find out where Cormac is.” She turns on her heels and puts the phone to her ear.

“More like a snake person. Preferably as a skin on her boots,” Ethel murmurs beside me, and I swallow a snicker.

“I’m assuming our donation is helpful, but probably not enough. What will it cover?” I keep petting Coco with my finger, her fluffy coat soft on my skin.

I don’t know how Betsy organized this. Corporate sponsorships are common, and so are private donations like ours, but this photo op? It’s like Corm is running for office.

“Actually, your donation will cover food and rent for the entire year. We’re very grateful.”

“What else do you need?” I ask, as if I had any money to offer.

“Space is an issue. We’re often overcrowded, pressed to call for adoptions. But often it feels that every time a pet gets adopted, two or three more find their way here. And then staff. We can’t afford enough qualified people, so we rely on our volunteers.”

“Here he is,” Betsy exclaims behind me. “What the—”

I turn and swallow a laugh. Cormac crowds the entrance, looking like he’s just walked out of a magazine cover page. The man is edible, I swear. His hair is mussed to perfection. He’s sporting stubble that frames his square jaw.

Said jaw is clenched, but that’s normal. The most significant feature on his beautiful face today is a scowl.

Shit. That’s my fault. While he looks like a movie star, he’s also dressed to the nines. In a tuxedo.

“I’m Ethel Keely, the manager here.” Ethel recovers first. “Welcome. Thank you for coming.”

Corm gives me a look that makes me want to squirm, but I won’t give him the satisfaction, so I glare back at him with my chin high.

In my defense, I completely forgot about those stupid labels in his closet.

And why should this be on me? The man is an adult, running a successful business. Can’t he check his agenda and dress appropriately?

“What are you wearing?” Betsy hisses louder than she probably intended.

Corm looks at her like she’s polluting the air he owns, and then he smiles—like actually smiles. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m coming from a luncheon, and I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer, so hence the attire.” He takes off his dinner jacket, drops it into Betsy’s arms. “Why don’t we walk around, Ethel?”

Ethel giggles. The woman giggles. “Let’s do it then.”

Corm undoes his collar, rips off the bow tie, puts it in his pocket, and proceeds to roll up his sleeves. Pure arm porn, if you ask me. But nobody is asking me. Or even looking at me anymore.

Ethel probably forgot I’m even here. My fiancé ignores me as he follows the manager. I snuggle Coco closer to me.