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“Usually,” Chad added, confusing me and giving me hope at the same time.

My short-legged friend was too tired to herd me this time as we walked toward the main building. “Good girl,” I cooed in her direction.

“Not sure she’s earned that title yet,” Chad said. He was frustrated that none of the dogs responded to any of his commands, in English or Spanish.

I nudged Chad with my elbow playfully. “She has.”

Chad held the door open for me, letting the echoing barks out into the open air.

We rounded the corner and I saw Rodrigo walking our way. Slightly behind him, Asher was holding a leash. I followed the line of that leash until my eyes collided with a dog—Bean. I gave an audible gasp.

“Check it out, Wren,” Rodrigo called. “Look who your mini-me likes. Are you jealous?”

Asher waved at me and then he and Rodrigo stopped in front of Bean’s kennel. Behind me, Chad was opening kennel C.

“Wren, the dog,” he was saying.

“Oh, right.” I absently handed him the leash and watched as Asher squatted down, rubbed Bean’s head, scratched behind his ears, and then led him through the kennel door that Rodrigo was holding open.

Chad had put away the dogs we’d been working with and was now standing beside me. “Is that Bean?” he asked. “I had been kidding about the whole walking-him thing.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“He likes your boyfriend,” Chad said.

Asher exited the kennel and headed our way. His big smile was on and his auburn hair was flopping in his eyes. I didn’t remember what color his eyes were but I found myself wanting to know. His lanky limbs were relaxed, his gait assured.

“He’s not my boy—” I started, but when Asher reached me, he wrapped me up in a hug.

I melted against him. I had forgotten how good of a hugger he was, but was being reminded all over again as his hands pressed against my lower back. “You walked Bean?” I said into his shoulder.

“Was I not supposed to?”

I looked up at him. His eyes were a brownish green—hazel. “Those are my favorite,” I said.

He smirked. “What?”

“I…Nothing.” I took a step back, out of his arms, and triedto shake off this feeling, whatever it was. The feeling of being just a little out of control. I didn’t like it. “This is Chad. Chad, this is Asher.”

“Hey,” Chad said. “Wren, I’ll write today’s report on the dogs. You get tomorrow’s.”

“Sure,” I responded.

After Chad left, Asher said, “I talked to Rodrigo about changing the name of the shelter. He was sympathetic to our concerns.”

I laughed. “You did not.”

“I really wanted to,” he said.

“Rodrigo doesn’t wield that kind of power.”

“I figured.”

“Where’s Dale?” I asked.

“They assigned him to check-in.”

That didn’t surprise me. There had been nobody up front earlier. It was a boring job that consisted of making visitors sign in, giving them a squirt of sanitizer, and telling them someone would be right with them.