Page 6 of The Bear's Second Chance Mate
“Short for Sir Clive Scales-a-Lot.”
That earned a delighted snort from Oli, and even June couldn’t help smiling.
“You should come by the store and meet him,” Stanley said, standing slowly. “I could give you both a brief tour. No pressure, of course.”
Oli’s whole body seemed to lift. He looked lighter, younger, and June’s throat tightened as tears pricked her eyes. “Can we, Mom? Please? Can we go see Clive?”
June brushed her hand across her eyes before she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Take a breath, love.”
As her son took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, June turned to Stanley, her tone shifting into the practical calm she used whenever assessing whether a place or situation might be too much for Oli. “It’s kind of you to offer. What are your quietest times? We’d want to come when it’s not too busy.”
Stanley nodded, clearly understanding more than most. “Late afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays are usually the quietest times. Fewer customers, and the animals are always most relaxed after their lunch.”
He wasn’t like the men her mother or aunt had ever nudged her toward.
He wasn’t the kind of man who demanded attention or tried to be the center of things. Even after he caught the rabbit, he did not play the hero. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just…calm. Solid. Present.
And that, more than anything, made her feel a little off-balance.
“Tuesday afternoon would work,” June added, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could second-guess herself. “Oli doesn’t have occupational therapy that day.”
Stanley nodded, his expression brightening. “Perfect. We close at five, but I know the owner will stay longer for special visitors.” He gave a wink, and Mrs. Abernathy snorted under her breath.
But June’s attention switched to Oli as he bounced slightly on his toes, a small, contained movement that June recognized as his trying-to-stay-calm-but-bursting-with-excitement stance.
Mrs. Abernathy stood from her lawn chair with a soft grunt. “Well, this has been more excitement than my garden’s seen in months. Unless you count that squirrel that got drunk on my fermented crab apples last fall.”
“We should let you get back to your evening,” June said, suddenly aware they’d commandeered the woman’s backyard for nearly half an hour.
Mrs. Abernathy waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. This was better than my usual television lineup. Besides,” she added with a wink at Stanley, “some things are worth watching unfold.”
June pretended not to notice the comment or the slight flush that rose to Stanley’s cheeks. She turned to Oli instead. “Time to say goodbye to the rabbit. We should head home for dinner.”
“He needs a name,” Oli said abruptly.
“A name,” June echoed.
“Yes,” Oli said. “We can’t just call him the rabbit.”
“No, we can’t,” Stanley agreed. “Do you have a name in mind?”
“Herbert,” Oli replied with certainty. “He looks like a Herbert.”
“Then Herbert it is.” As they left through the side gate, Stanley paused. “My truck’s just down the street. I should get this little guy settled.”
“We’ll walk with you,” Oli said immediately. It was not a question but a declaration. One June decided to let slip.
“Okay, then we have to say goodbye and let Stanley take the rabbit…Herbert, back to the store,” June said firmly. It was far better to set out the sequence of events so that Oli knew the boundaries.
“Okay,” Oli agreed, walking beside Stanley, his gaze darting between the man and the crate he carried.
“What does Clive eat?” Oli asked as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Does he have special lights? Do the guinea pigs live near him, or would that be scary for them? Does your store have fish, too? And do rabbits like music because I read some animals do, but some don’t, and…”
“Oli,” June started, her automatic response to rein in the rapid-fire questions.
But Stanley just smiled, answering each one with consideration. “Clive eats crickets and veggies. He has a special UVB lamp that gives him the right kind of light. The guinea pigs are on the other side of the store, so everyone feels safe. We do have fish…tropical ones that need warm water and some that live in cooler tanks.”
He paused, considering the last question with the same seriousness he’d given the others. “I’m not sure if rabbits likemusic, but I sometimes play classical in the store, and they seem to relax with it. Nothing too loud or with heavy bass, though. We don’t want them bouncing off the sides of their pens.”
