Page 6 of The Love Shack

“Er...thanks. I’ll tell him you said so.”

“I already did.” She turned back to Lawson. “I should get going, but it was terrific to meet you.”

As he walked her to the door, he said, “Thanks for the rescue. I appreciate it.”

After glancing out the door, she faced him and leaned a little closer. “If no one is looking, want me to move Kathleen?”

The genuineness of her offer took him by surprise. She didn’t tease him about it, didn’t even question him. If he wasn’t committed to staying uninvolved, he’d be tempted to see if Lark, with her friendly manner and easy smiles, was interested in more. “It’s fine. Harmless fun.”

“Ah, so it was more the fan club than the mannequin.” With a sage nod of understanding, she said, “No worries. I totally get it. A guy like you probably draws a lot of attention.”

“A guy like me?” No one had referred to him that way in years, and his shoulders automatically stiffened.

Dark, slim brows lifted. “Big, good-looking.” The brows tweaked together. “Rugged, too, I guess. That’s all I meant. This is a vacation town, after all, and there are always hordes of women hanging around. Pretty sure those were vacationers teasing you before I interrupted. I mean, they’ve been in bikinis all day. Do the locals do that?”

His mouth twitched. “Not that I’ve seen.” But then, he hadn’t even noticed that the woman taunting him with Kathleen was in a bathing suit.

Leaning back on the door frame, Lark confided, “I had two women come in to have their hair styled, and they were both wearing bikinis.”

“I take it that’s not usual?”

She snorted. “One of the other stylists told me that with our walk-in policy, it happens a lot during the summer.” She fluffed her own hair. “Guess if you get windblown on the beach, but a date works out, it’s quickest just to drop in.”

Lawson wondered if Berkley got her hair done in the local beauty shop. For some reason, he doubted it. She seemed like the type to do her own hair—if that was even possible with the intricacy of her color choices.

Straightening again, Lark said “Here” and handed the order back to him, then took her purse off her shoulder, opened it and peered inside. She rummaged around a moment and produced a card. “This is me. If you ever want to stop in, I do guys’ hair, too.”

“Suggesting I need a little work?” He took the card and then pocketed it.

“Not really.” Still wearing a smile, she took back the package and opened the door. “The natural look suits you.”

As he said his goodbyes to Lark, he found himself wondering about Berkley again. Didshethink his look worked?

And damn it, since when did he even have a “look”?

2

A little morethan a week later, at exactly 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday, Berkley had just finished hosing down the dog runs when the sound of a loud power tool suddenly had all the dogs howling. Six of them. Well, seven counting Hero.

“What in the world?” She’d thought surely she was the only one up and working so early on a weekend. Of course, weekend or weekday, it didn’t matter when there were animals who needed tending.

Each and every one of her days, rain or shine, hot or cold, started at 5:00 a.m. Before Betty had hired her to run this shelter, she’d worked at another location where the regular director was often missing. She hadn’t minded too much because he had never done things the way she’d preferred. When she’d made the decision to relocate to Cemetery, she’d first found a wonderful replacement for herself—and she’d ensured the director was removed.

Nowshewas in charge, and she absolutely loved it. Everything would be under her guidance, which meant the animals would always get the very best care. That included rising early to get them fed and give them fresh water. She spent a little time playing with each of the dogs so they wouldn’t feel too lonely, then they were let outside in their individually contained areas while she hosed down their spaces and prepped fresh bedding.

And of course, fresh bedding meant laundry to do, but she had a volunteer who helped with that three times a week as long as there were no big messes. Another volunteer came by every other day to take a turn walking the dogs and brushing the cats. Her two part-time workers assisted with everything else, including the paperwork to show that each animal had been vaccinated and treated for worms and parasites. There were also the records for intakes and, hopefully soon, adoptions.

For a new shelter, it was a busy place, but the cacophony of dogs yapping and cats meowing was music to her ears. It was only the whines of fear—or worse, pain—that could destroy her. Her heart ached to even think of the numerous times she’d dealt with that.

Some people didn’t deserve animals.

When the noisy power tool roared again, Hero gave a hearty bark, a sound she chose to mean curiosity. “I know,” she said. “It’s odd to hear when we should be relatively alone.” Odd, and slightly alarming. Pulling off a glove, she bit at a thumb nail and considered what to do. No one else was around right now. A glance up showed that sunrise had painted the sky in tangerine hues that would soon lighten to gold before giving way to the brightest blue.

Berkley loved it here, the isolation of her small house and the brand-spanking-new shelter surrounded by trees. Somewhere in the distance, the lake curved into a cove. She couldn’t see it, but the scents of the water sometimes carried through the woods.

Hero waited expectantly, so she said, “It’s probably a county worker taking care of a phone line or cable or something. Let me finish up here and then we’ll investigate.”

She and Hero often liked to romp around the woods, exploring interesting things like mushrooms and tiny wildflowers, frogs, snails and skinks.

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