In that space, he had given himself full permission to pursue his own dreams. He’d taken a leap by moving away from the resort slash luxury portion of the business, but he didn’t want to spend all his time wondering what his dad would have done, would have said, how he would have felt.
Owen had taken great care of the business both with his father and after his father’s passing. The business now rested in Patty’s capable hands, and he was certain she’d do a fine job with it. It was time for him to make his life his own. While he didn’t know what it all entailed, he had a way to begin. He returned to his seat and went over the short list of properties he planned to view, making notes on what he’d seen at Betsy’s B&B and some fresh ideas of his own.
“Welcome to Novato,” Michael said after they landed.
“Thank you, Michael. I always appreciate you.” He placed a hefty tip in Michael’s hand.
Owen stepped off the plane and onto California soil. Well, onto the tarmac of the private airport, but soil lay underneath. Hills lined the horizon in every direction, making him smile. No kind of architecture could beat natural beauty.
An arena-red Porsche 993 turbo purred in wait. The driver, who wore dark sunglasses, got out and waited for Owen to get into the driver’s seat before he closed the door.
After placing his bag on the seat next to him, Owen punched his first stop into the navigator. It was only an eleven-minute drive from the airport.
He shifted into drive and pressed the gas pedal, and a rush of adrenaline shot through him as he sailed through the private airfield. At the exit, he put his seat belt on and took a right turn onto the street. With an attempt at self-control, he engaged cruise control but still found himself pressing the gas. He made the eleven-minute drive in eight.
Cold air greeted him as he stepped through large double doors. The shelter smelled clean, with a slight undercurrent of dog hanging in the air so lightly that one might miss it.
“Can I help you?” asked the only woman behind the half-circle desk. Her nametag read Lenore.
“I’m here to look at dogs,” he said.
“All right.”
She laid down the tablet she had been holding and picked up a clipboard. After gathering some personal info from him, she led him through a set of doors and down a corridor.
“Before we go in, I need you to step into this pan. Just like this,” she said, placing one foot at a time in and then out again. The pan looked like a litter box, but a white pad lined the bottom, and it was wet. The chemical stench burned his nose. Definitely some sort of germ-killer. “Go on in. Repeat this process when you come back out. Each kennel has a number on it. You can let me know if you’re interested in visiting any of our guests before you make a decision.”
Owen thanked her and then slowly paced the length of the area. Deafened by the excited barking, Owen wished he had earplugs. The dogs’ eyes followed him as he peered back at them. Some of the animals panted with excitement, others were leery, and some begged for attention. A Great Dane stood on his hind legs to greet him, and Owen was tempted to reach through the cage despite the multiple signs that warned him not to.
“What are you doing here, big fella?” Each one broke his heart in a million ways, and he wished he could take them all.
At the end of the line, one dog, like many of them, shared a kennel with two larger ones. The small mutt approached him and sat. Short reddish-brown fur covered most of her body except where it was shaved off on one of her legs. One perky ear stayed up while the other bent down.
He read the sign. “Molly. Really? Your name is Molly?”
The dog’s ears twitched, and her eyebrows shifted.
“It’s got to be a sign.” He crouched down to be on eye level with her. Stoic in all ways, Molly the dog met his gaze and studied him as carefully as he did her. He read mistrust in her dark brown eyes. “Are you mad at me for any reason?”
The doors at the far end of the corridor opened, and Lenore, the woman who’d let him in, walked his way. “How’s it going, Mr. Kaine?”
Owen glanced at Molly one more time. She stared back and only blinked once. “I’d like to adopt Molly, here.”
“Would you like to take her outside first and get to know her before you make a final decision?”
“No, I’ll take her as she is.”
“All right, then. It’s only fair to tell you that she recently had surgery on her leg. You might have noticed its appearance.”
Owen nodded. “I did. What happened?”
The woman’s shoulders rose as she took a deep breath. “Molly was rescued from a dog fighter’s property. When the police busted the property, they interrupted a group cheering. The other dog had the lower half of her body in its mouth.”
“Oh my god.” Owen felt sick to his stomach. He’d heard of dog-fighting rings. It seemed Florida wasn’t exempt from any type of crime, but he’d never met a dog who’d been a victim.
Lenore tilted her head and peered at Owen. “Change your mind?”
“Absolutely not.”
After he had filled out several pages of paperwork and promised things like not allowing Molly to be used for experimentation, Lenore asked for Owen’s driver’s license. He handed it to her.
“I’ll need to check your references. Shouldn’t take too long as long as I can reach someone.” She took it along with his paperwork into an office and shut the door.
Ten minutes later, while he waited, his phone buzzed and Patty’s name popped up on a text. You got a dog! Congrats!
Owen grinned at his phone. Patty must have been one of Lenore’s first calls. Thanks, he typed back. I got great advice from an even greater lady.
Oh, is that so? Patty texted, playing along. She must be one smart cookie.
The smartest. Owen sent the message. Why was it just now he realized how much Patty doted on him? She hadn’t changed, but he had.
Uncomfortable with his thoughts, he shoved them away and smiled at Lenore when she came back into the room with her arm extended to return his license.
“Everything checked out! Let’s complete the adoption, and I’ll go get Molly for you.”
“Okay.” Owen stood and walked to the desk as she entered his data in the system.
Lenore peeled off a blank white label, stuck it on his paperwork, and wrote Molly Kaine in the space.
“That’ll be a one-hundred-and-twenty-dollar adoption fee.”
Lenore picked up a cup of coffee that had to be ice-cold and sipped. Her mouth drooped, and she swallowed hard, trying to hide her distaste. Owen chuckled.
“Molly is already spayed, so you won’t have to worry about having that done. She’s up on her shots, but she only comes with a collar and leash. Would you like to purchase some food while you’re here?”
“Sure,” Owen said. “How many dogs do you currently have?” he asked Lenore.
“We can hold four hundred, and we’re nearly full. Thanks to you, we have an extra space open now.” Lenore shot an appreciative smile his way and picked up a pen. “I just need you to sign here. Do you want to pay with cash or credit card?”
Owen pulled a solid black credit card out of his wallet. “Would it be easier for the dogs to find homes if their adoption fees are already paid?”
Lenore’s brow shot up. “Why, yes, sponsored dogs have a chance to go to good homes that might have difficulty paying the fee. Some wonderful people have plenty of love to give, even if they don’t have a lot of money.”
“I want to pay the adoption fee for every animal in the building. How long would it take you to figure that number out?”
Lenore froze. The pen fell from her hands and clattered to the desk, snapping her out of her reverie. “Uh... let me get the director. I’ll be right back.”
An hour later, Owen headed back out to the Porsche with a ten-pound bag of dog food laying over his shoulder and a small bag with treats and paperwork wrapped around his other hand, which held Molly’s leash.
With a caut
ious stride, Molly kept pace with him but never got excited. Not even when they walked out of the shelter.
She probably has no idea if she’ll be safe or not.
Pressing a button on the key fob, the trunk lid popped open, and Owen dropped the food in and closed it again. When he opened the passenger door, Molly took a few steps backward.
“It’s okay,” he told her in a soothing voice. “You get to ride shotgun. Unless you want to sit in the back.”
Molly stood there and stared ahead, unwilling to meet his gaze.
“Is your leg hurting?” Owen rubbed his chin, wondering if pain kept her from jumping. Slowly, he knelt in front of her. He remembered seeing a survival show that had said making yourself look bigger could save your life if you were confronted by a bear or a big cat. Maybe if he made himself look smaller, she’d warm up.
“Hey, girl. Do you want a treat?”
Pulling open the zipper bag of treats, he watched her for a reaction. One little twitch of the nose was all she gave him, and had he not been looking at her, he would have missed it. He shook out a single smelly treat. Her eyes darted to the treat and her nose wiggled, but her body remained stiff.
Owen placed it on his palm and held it out to her, but Molly drew her head back. “C’mon, Molly girl. This is for you.”
He leaned forward at the waist and watched her nose do a slow dance. More than a minute later, she finally caved, and in the most gingerly of fashions plucked the treat from his hand without touching his skin.
Instead of pulling his hand back, he petted her chest, then her body, and then, at a turtle’s pace, her head. “Good girl!” He shook out another treat, and this time she only took half a minute before she accepted it.
As she dipped her nose to his palm, a shutter clicked.
Owen looked up and saw one of the staff from the shelter poised with a camera.
“Sorry! I shoot first and ask questions later,” the girl said, lowering her camera. “We need your photo for the spotlight feature.”
“Oh,” Owen said, squinting up at her. “I don’t want to be in a feature.”
“Please!” she started to beg.
“No.” Agitated, Owen straightened up. “I didn’t do this for attention.”
“No one thinks you did. Look, we needed a picture anyway. It’s standard. And then I searched you on the Internet and found out who you are. Honestly, if you let us use your name and image, it’ll help us find these animals homes even quicker, and that’s more animals we can help. Every time we send one out, we can take another one in.”
“Are you sure you’re not a private investigator?”
The girl bent forward and laughed. “Who needs one these days?” She lowered her camera, and Owen saw her name tag.
“Okay, Bree. Please keep the article simple. I’ll give you my card. Let me see before you print it, okay?”
“Deal.”
Owen waited for her to go back inside. When he looked down at his lap, Molly was in it, attempting to nose the bag of treats open. “Atta girl!” Scooping her up in his arms, he spoke to her in a calm, soft voice. He gently placed her in the car and set another treat in front of her before he closed the door and hurried around to get in.
As soon as he closed his door, his phone rang.
When he saw Betsy’s name on the screen, he couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts about Jenny that filled his mind. “Hi, Betsy!” he said enthusiastically. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, you’re still a charmer, Handsome Owen.” Betsy chuckled lightly. “I wanted to speak with you about something. Is now a good time?”
“Yes, it is. I just need a few minutes to get to my room and take my bags and my dog inside, then I’ll have all the time in the world.”
“Dog? Room? Are you traveling again?”
“I am. You’ll never guess why.” Owen grinned and watched Molly watch him. He reached over to pet her, and she didn’t put up a fuss. Progress.
“You’ll have to tell me all about it. Call me back when you’re ready so we can chat.”
“Will do, Betsy.”
Chapter 25
“Come here, Sunshine.” Jenny scooped up the fourteen-year-old red flame point Siamese and drew him back to her, then listened to his rapid heartbeat and then his lungs. “Sounds good and normal,” she said to Sunshine’s nervous owner.
“Good, good. I can’t believe we found him after two weeks. It’s a miracle.”
Jenny smiled at her. “I believe in miracles, and Sunshine is looking good.”
Scratching under his chin, Sunshine tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He allowed Jenny to check his nose first, then all his other cavities.
“He’s looking good. On the skinny side from being alone in the wild so long, but just take it slow and give him time to rest and get back to normal.”
Cal, the vet tech, stood silently typing notes as Jenny spoke to Sunshine’s mom.
“We’re done,” she said to Cal. “Give her a two-week supply of the ProFel.” Jenny turned her attention back to Sunshine’s mom. “It’s soft canned food that’ll help Sunshine put weight back on. For a couple of days, you can give him just the soft, but then start mixing it in with his dry food for a couple of weeks.”
“Thank you, Dr. Jamison.”
“You’re welcome. Call if you have any concerns, but I’d like to see Sunshine again in four weeks.”
After Sunshine had departed with his owner, Jenny retreated to her office and plopped into her chair. She hadn’t been herself at all, and while she’d had fun with Sammie, the trip to New Orleans hadn’t had the desired effect. She’d thought of Owen constantly and had wished a hundred times that they’d gone to Destin to look for him. Destin wasn’t big, and she was sure he’d stand out in a crowd. But another part of her still had ill feelings about seeing Jeff in person and knowing he was not the man she’d been conversing with.
Muddy emotions kept her bogged down, and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. After her last relationship, she had tried to be careful. Honest and careful, but no matter what, she always tended to leave herself wide open for hurt.
She decided she’d check her email and then head home. She groaned when she saw she had more than twenty. Starting with the oldest, she answered them one by one. A few had come from clients, some from vendors; there were a few billing issues, and one fun email from Pawsome Stories, a blog that provided a balance of news and feel-good stories. For people in the veterinary field, the stories were uplifting. For readers at home, the newsletter aimed to engage them by providing local news about shelters and vets in their towns. Each edition had a spotlight story that never disappointed. Jenny told herself that she could open it as soon as she got through her emails.
An hour later, she checked her watch. Now it was after six p.m., and she had an achy back, so she thought about saving the newsletter for the next day. Itchy from animal hair, she scratched her neck and read the preview in the subject line out loud. “Billionaire saves hundreds of lives in Novato.”
Giving in, she clicked on the email, and Owen’s profile filled her screen.
Jenny jumped back and gaped at the screen. He was even more beautiful than she remembered. In the photo, he was crouched on the ground in front of... Is that a freaking Porsche?
A small mixed-breed dog was eating from his palm. “Of course,” Jenny told herself. “Who wouldn’t?”
She put her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands, studying the picture. That beautiful dog with the nervous eyes was sure to fall in love with the man who had saved her. The sarcasm she’d been harboring dissipated as she read the article. He’d paid for every single animal’s adoption fees as well as adopting the dog in the photo.
“Wow,” she muttered.
The spokesperson for the shelter said they’d had to beg Owen to use his name.
Jenny’s mind reeled. “What in the world?” Obviously, he was compassionate, which earned him major points. He’d alread
y proven that by what he’d done for Mr. Hidy, but in the back of her mind, she’d wondered if he’d had some secret motive for doing it. Maybe to impress her, or whatever. But this...
There was no way he could have known she’d find out. The entire idea of him doing anything close to this simply to impress her was beyond ridiculous.
Jenny’s shoulders drooped. He’d still lied. And not that it would have mattered, but it wasn’t even a small fib. It was a meteor-sized deception that had left a hole inside her, humiliated her, not to mention hurting his friends.
She missed her friend Jeff, and he didn’t even exist, not in the way she’d known him. Her cheeks burned when she thought of the way she’d kissed him. She’d been so bold and forward.
“Oh my gosh.” Jenny covered her face with her hands and peeked through her fingers at his picture. Why did something so wrong feel so right? She had climbed into his lap like some floozy. Slumping back in her seat, she let herself remember as she touched her lips. No kiss in her life compared to the ones she had shared with Owen. Not that she’d kissed all that many frogs, but the chemistry between them was undeniably prince-worthy.
“Why did you lie?” she asked the picture on her monitor.
The answer drifted to her like a leaf riding the breeze. Because if he didn’t, he’d never know for sure who cared about him and who cared about his money.
Almost immediately, a part of her wanted to go to him, forgive him and throw herself into his arms. On the other hand, she worried that if she turned to him now, he might think she was only doing so because of his money. Owen didn’t act like a rich guy, so she would have never known—though he did have some pretty fancy shoes. But to think that way was judgmental. What did she think a rich person would act like? Did she expect him to come with his own butler who always had a silver tray of caviar perched on his fingertips?
But she didn’t care about money. If she had cared about that, she’d have moved to a big city where vets charged fifty dollars for a five-dollar bottle of Cephalexin.
Contact him. No! Yes! No! He’ll think you’re a gold digger. But he didn’t know she’d seen the article. “Lying by omission is still a lie, Jenny,” she told herself. There was no way he’d believe she didn’t care about his money and that what he’d done for the shelter had touched her enough to consider forgiving him.
The Conflicted Billionaire (The Conflicted Love Series Book 1) Page 11
