Page 27 of Savior
When he still hasn’t returned by the time I’ve polished off my chai latte and weeded the garden, my worry is replaced by irritation—at myself. I have no interest in indulging Logan’s curiosity about me or my past. I have no interest in indulging Logan in any capacity whatsoever, so my concern about his well-being is useless.
I have no desire to become entangled with a man, emotionally or otherwise and something tells me Logan is all about the entanglements.
Brushing off the dirt from the hem of my robe as though I can brush thoughts of him off just as easily, I get to my feet and head back inside to change and get ready for work. I resolve to keep my routine. It’ll be the best way to keep from inciting his own natural curiosity. Once he realizes I’m no threat to his family, he’ll lose interest, and I’ll go back to being invisible, which suits me just fine.
Unfortunately, Diane and Rose don’t agree with my plan, and they pounce the moment I step through the door.
Diane plies me with another desperately needed cup of coffee first. “You look like you could use this,” she says and hands me the steaming mug.
“Thank you.”
“Logan came over, didn’t he?” She asks, a little too innocently. “To fix the AC?”
I sip my coffee, considering my answer. I feel like I’m trapped in a sea of quicksand and taking the wrong step will mean a slow excruciating death. “Yes,” is all I offer.
“Good.” Diane pats my arm. “That’s real good. He’s a sweet boy, our Logan.” She makes a face. “Well, when he puts his mind to it. He didn’t say anything out of line, did he?”
It almost makes me smile. She knows her nephew very well and obviously cares for him a great deal. “No, he was very nice.”
That seems to give her pause. “Nice. Hmm. Yes, well. I hope you had a chance to talk with him. There seems to be some tension between you two.”
I sip my coffee again. Is it so obvious? “Everything is fine. We did talk for a bit before he had to go.”
Diane straightens. “Go?”
“He had to take a call. I gather it was urgent.” Coffee finished, I rinse the mug and set it in the dishwasher. Diane harrumphs behind me, and I hide a smile. Wanting to change the subject, I say, “I was thinking about getting a dog, and I wanted to check to see what your policy is on pets in the cabins.”
“A dog?” Diane slaps a rag on the counter.
Lifting my shoulders, I round the bar intending to head to the hall to grab my cleaning supplies. Over my shoulder, I say, “To protect me from your nephew.”
That surprises a laugh out of the two women. Diane grins. “Have one in mind?”
“Not yet, I haven’t really had the chance to look around yet. My new boss likes to keep me busy.”
Diane grabs a pen and paper from the organized area underneath a landline. “Here. This is the number for the pound. Next time you get a day off, you should go by. There’s always a good stray in need of a home.”
I pocket the paper and send her a grateful smile. “I take it I can have one in the house?”
She just laughs. “Honey, if you haven’t learned it of me yet, you soon will. I can’t say no to a soul in need. You haven’t said it yet, but you look like you could use some kindness.”
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I say, “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
The bell at the front desk rings, and she rubs my arm as she moves around me. “No thanks needed, child. It was worth it to see the look on your face.”
“Do you need a pet deposit or something?” I call out to her almost as an afterthought.
She waves it away. “Just bring ’em by from time to time for me to love on. That’ll be enough.”
* * *
After work, I go back and forth with myself on the way to the shelter located just inside Nassau proper. I don’tneeda dog, but it makes sense to have one at home for protection. Before I moved around too much for it to be practical, but now I can afford to lay down some roots. It’s a small step, but an important one.
“Afternoon!” a bright voice greets me. “How can I help you today?”
The voice belongs to a cheerful but disheveled-looking blonde woman in her late twenties who is hefting an oversized bag of dog chow onto a counter. Her dark blue shirt is covered with dog and cat hair of every imaginable color, and her tattered jeans are spattered with indistinguishable stains.
“Hey, yes actually. I’m looking to adopt a dog.” A quick glance around the room tells me it’s a neatly kept place, probably as clean as it can be considering the occupants. The scent of antiseptic, animals, and dirt is strong, but the place isn’t dirty.