“This is your own fault. I warned you that you’d get a bath if you ran through the mud, but you didn’t listen.”

Murphy looks at me with the most adorable, soulful eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s a mutt—the perfect mixture of what I believe to be a Boxer and Labrador with floppy ears, big brown eyes, and a playful temperament.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re not getting out of this.”

I lather him up, but Murphy is having no part of it. Once he realizes his cute looks won’t get him out of a bath, he thrashes around, trying to make a run for it.

“Oh, no you don’t.” I clip his leash to the pole above the wash basin, and once he’s settled down, I finish scrubbing. “See, this isn’t so bad? And now you’re going to smell good, and all the lady dogs are going to go crazy.” Murphy whimpers. “I know, baby,” I coo, rinsing the soap out of his coat. “I’d be scared of them too. They only want you for your good looks. They have no idea you’re just a big, sweet teddy bear.”

With a steady stream of baby-talk and the promise of lots of treats, I’m able to finish bathing Murphy. I dry him off, lift him out of the tub, and walk him back to his kennel.

“There you go, Murph. Your food bowl is full, your blanket is clean, and now you smell like mangos.” I give him a good rub down before shutting the door.

I step back and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as my eyes sweep the room to make sure I didn’t forget anyone. The morning flew by. I’ve cleaned all the kennels, changed out the water bowls, and fed all of the animals. I’ve done a load of laundry, washing all of the blankets and towels, and I’ve let the first group of dogs out in the pasture to run.

You’d think I’d be almost done, but that’s not even half of it. I still have to take out the newbies individually, give four more baths, take care of the horses, and then take the bigger dogs on a longer walk. But first, lunch.

Taking care of Animal Haven without having Mo here used to stress me out. The endless, back-breaking work, plus keeping all of the animals straight—who gets what medicine and how much food and outside time. But the more I do it, the easier it gets, and I’ve come to enjoy my alone time here. I can see why Mo loves her job. Don’t get me wrong—I love teaching, and I love my kids, but taking care of an animal is rewarding in a different way. These innocent little creatures don’t expect a thing, and they give every bit of love in return while they wait for their forever homes.

Speaking of innocent little animals…

Before heading to the front office to make my lunch, I decide to check on the blind pup one more time. He’s standing at his food bowl. His legs are like tiny sticks, barely visible under all that hair, and I can’t help but laugh. The pup freezes, then lifts his nose in the air and sniffs.

Maybe he recognizes my scent. I imagine since he’s blind, he uses his other senses to acclimate himself to his surroundings.

“Hey there, little guy,” I say, unlocking the pen. “Did you finally decide to get a bite to eat?”

I stand back, waiting to see if he’ll come to me, and sure enough, after a few moments he sniffs the air again, following his nose toward me. Remaining still, I allow the pup to get familiar with my scent, and when he stops sniffing and sits at my feet, I take it as an open invitation to pick him up.

Bending down, I scoop him up by the belly. “We should give you a name,” I say, scratching the soft spot behind his ear. “I can’t keep calling you fur ball and pup, it just doesn’t feel right. How about Max?” I look at his face. He sneezes. “Nah. You don’t look like a Max. How about Milo? That’s a nice, strong boy name.” The pup licks the top of my hand, obviously in agreement. “Well, okay then. Milo it is.”

When I bend down to set Milo on the floor, he lets out a high-pitched bark.

“So you can talk. I was starting to wonder.” Milo lifts his head, and if he could see, I imagine he would be looking at me. “Do you want to hang with me a little more?”

“Arf.”

“Fine, fine. You don’t have to beg.” Milo gets settled in my arms as I walk to the main office. The bell chimes when I open the front door, and Milo yaps again. He wiggles in my arms, and when I set him down, he takes off running. His little stick legs carry him as fast as they can until he rams head first into a chair.

Pickles lifts his head from his bed in the corner and blinks heavily but doesn’t get flustered at Milo’s presence.

“Oh!” I cringe when Milo stumbles to the side. Maybe I was wrong about his other senses; maybe he hasn’t figured that part out yet. “You’ve got to be more careful,” I scold, picking him up. “You’re blind, remember?” Milo blinks up at me as I rub the spot on his head where he hit and then lower him to the couch. “Stay here with Pickles while I make myself a sandwich. And don’t pee. Mo will kill me if you pee on her couch.” I turn my attention to Pickles. “And you play nice.”

Pickles stretches his arms and legs out as far as they’ll go and rolls over without a care in the world.

“Fine, ignore him, that works too.”

The main office of Animal Haven isn’t much of an office. It’s more like an apartment since Mo stays here on occasion. There’s a couch, table, desk, and TV all in the front room, as well as a bathroom and a semi-stocked kitchen off to the side. Thank God she keeps food in the kitchen, because I forgot to make a lunch.

Whistling, I throw together a turkey sandwich for myself and two for Trevor. I haven’t seen him since this morning, and there’s no lunch box in the refrigerator, so I’m guessing he either forgot his lunch or he’s planning on leaving to get food. No sense in that when I’m here.

I polish off my sandwich, a bag of chips, and a soda, all while Milo snoozes on the couch.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” I call when I’m done.

Milo lifts his head and drops it back down, clearly too exhausted from a long day of doing nothing to get up.

“Fine, lazy butt.” I grab the pooch along with the sack lunch I packed Trevor and walk outside. It would be easier to hop on the four-wheeler to find him, but it’s nice out, and I could use the exercise.

Hooking a leash to Milo’s collar, I start walking, but he has different plans. He plops down on the soft grass and rolls over, revealing his underbelly.

“Get up.” I tug on the leash a bit, but the dog doesn’t move. “Carrying you around is getting old.” But I do it anyway, and he rewards me with a slobbery lick across the face.

With Milo in one arm and Trevor’s lunch in the other, I make the short walk across the back forty, following the tire marks Trevor’s truck left in the grass. When I find him, his Chevy is parked off to the side, giving me a gorgeous view of the man himself. Slowing my pace, I allow myself time to drink him in, studying the way his muscles shift and flex beneath his skin as he swings the hammer.

Trevor swipes his arm across his face, mussing up his dark hair in the process, which makes it look better than it already did. Damn him. Men like Trevor should be required to walk around with a flashing neon sign above their heads, warning all women of their potent sexuality.

When I’m within an earshot, I put Milo down and call out to Trevor. “Hungry?”

His arm is raised to swing the hammer when looks back at me. Lowering the tool, he pulls out the rag hanging from his back pocket and wipes off his hands as he walks toward me.

“That depends.”

My back stiffens. If he even says he wanted ham instead of turkey, I’m going to slap him. “On what?”

“Are you on the menu?”

I tilt my head. “Are you flirting with me?”

He watches me while I wait for his answer, and then he laughs. “No, Claire, I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh.” Damn.