Sit, Stay, Love

by Debbie Burns

  Also by Debbie Burns

  A New Leash on Love

  First in the fresh, poignant Rescue Me series from award-winning author Debbie Burns

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  Copyright © 2018 by Debbie Burns

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Dawn Adams/Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover images © bbernard/Shutterstock, GlobalIP/iStock/Getty Images

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

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  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Ida Greene’s Homemade Apple Pie

  Author’s Note

  A Sneak Peek at My Forever Home

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Dad,

  Thanks for serving, and for all the great little things ever since.

  “Dogs do speak, but only to those who know how to listen.”

  —Orhan Pamuk

  Chapter 1

  Kelsey Sutton had been on more home visits than she could recall. Most had proved to be run-of-the-mill experiences. Others were memorable for one reason or another. Never before had one brought to mind a jungle rendition of The Twelve Days of Christmas.

  But here it was, mid-September, and this afternoon’s peculiar home visit had the Christmassy tune flowing through her mind. Four fluttering finches. Or maybe there’d been five in that cage. It was hard to tell with all the floating tufts of down. Three squawking macaws. How long will my ears keep ringing like this? Two unique homeowners. Weird. Let’s face it. They were weird. And a corgi in a hurry to leave. Poor, sweet little Orzo.

  The whole fiasco made Kelsey more committed than ever to finding the precocious little corgi the perfect home. As lead adoption coordinator for the High Grove Animal Shelter, that was her current mission.

  As she turned from the house’s brick walkway onto the sidewalk, Kelsey was thankful she’d parked a few blocks away on the car-lined city street. She needed a minute or two to walk off her did-that-really-just-happen feeling. Orzo, who was typically a stop-and-sniff sort of fellow, was all too willing to keep up with her brisk pace. The only looking around he did was the occasional glance up at her, as if to make sure she hadn’t fallen behind. His unusually serious demeanor made her laugh off her disbelief.

  She didn’t have to be a dog whisperer to know the residential Rainforest Café she’d just left wasn’t meant to be Orzo’s forever home. No amount of cajoling would have called him out from behind her legs. Hands down, it was Kelsey’s most unique home visit ever. A dense jungle scene was painted on the far wall of the living room, and two enormous faux trees flanked the sides of it. Elsewhere, the house was adorned with more bird and jungle pictures, decorations, and furniture than Kelsey’s active imagination could’ve conjured up. Especially for a house smack-dab in the middle of the United States. But the over-the-top decorating hadn’t been what bothered the puppy-faced, five-year-old tan-and-white corgi.

  What troubled the normally easygoing dog was the incessant, ear-piercing squawking and thunderous flapping of three upset macaws who weren’t at all in agreement with their owners’ desire to bring a dog into their family. By the time Kelsey had called it a wash and hoisted the terrified corgi into her arms, the air was so chock-full of downy feathers that she felt like she was trapped in a snow globe.

  Thank goodness they’d decided to do this home visit. Kelsey’s shelter prided itself on finding forever homes for the animals they took in. Potential adopters had to pass an interview, plus reference and background checks. When they did, home visits weren’t typically required. These homeowners, two sisters, had passed all three. In that short time with them, it had become clear the sisters were animal lovers. However, during their interview, Chance, the shelter’s resident blind cairn terrier, had sniffed something amiss. He could read people better than any animal or person Kelsey had ever known. It was unofficial shelter policy to take Chance’s reactions to potential adopters seriously, so this afternoon’s appointment had been made. In this case, he’d probably been smelling the exotic birds.

  “I promise you, Orzo,” Kelsey said as they reached her bright-yellow Corolla and she clicked the remote to unlock the doors. “We’re going to find you the perfect home.”

  As soon as she had the back door open wide enough, Orzo made an impressive jump considering his short legs, forgetting that earlier he’d needed a boost.

  “I’m going to make sure of it,” she added, leaning in to scratch his back. She saw a pale-blue tuft of down sticking up from underneath his collar and pulled it free. “And even though you had a turn last week, you’re coming home with me tonight.” Orzo’s tail began to wag like a piano metronome set for high speed.

  Kelsey’s decision to take a different shelter dog home every night had started by accident a few years ago. After moving out of her parents’ house and renting an apartment, she was excited to adopt a shelter dog of her own. But the decision as to which dog had been nearly impossible. The forty or so dogs in the shelter’s care were each lovable and adoption-worthy. While trying to narrow her choice down to a few, she started the overnight fostering and realized she was probably doing the greatest good with the quiet night’s sleep and individual attention she offered all the shelter�
�s dogs in turn.

  And after this afternoon’s crazy experience, Orzo deserved to be bumped to the front of the line.

  Kelsey shut the back door and sank into the driver’s seat. Orzo circled a few times, then plopped down with a sigh. Before turning on the ignition, Kelsey checked her phone. Megan had texted to see if Kelsey would still be stopping by the Sabrina Raven estate to feed the cat who, along with an entire estate, had been bequeathed to the shelter upon Sabrina Raven’s death eight months ago.

  Kelsey replied that she was headed there next. She was a bit surprised when Megan texted she’d meet her there. Odd, Kelsey thought. The Raven estate was a twenty-minute drive from the shelter, but close enough to Kelsey’s apartment that she’d taken on the task of feeding the cantankerous cat each morning and evening. The fact that Megan wanted to meet there on her day off had to mean there was some sort of news.

  Wondering if the news might involve the estate itself, Kelsey flipped on the ignition and buckled her seat belt. Whatever it was, it certainly couldn’t be as eventful as her and Orzo’s afternoon had been. After all, what topped a life-size feather-filled snow globe?

  * * *

  Hands down, it was the weather that Kurt Crawford was most looking forward to on coming home. There’d been enough times over the last eight years when he’d found it impossible to recall the sensation of a cool breeze against his skin. Scorching heat had been an all-too-constant companion during his long military service.

  After completing his military training as a working dog handler in Texas at the Lackland Air Force Base, he started his enlistment in the army doing customs support on the U.S.-Mexican border. A couple years later, he was granted a transfer to the marines and found himself committing to multiple tours in Afghanistan and being paired up with new dog after new dog. Winters had offered a splash of reprieve from the unbearable desert heat. He’d even been in Kandahar during the one snow they’d had in thirty years. It was an experience he’d never forget. The snow had been thick and clumpy, yet dry, as if the endless desert sands had had a role in making it.

  Most recently, he’d been stationed in Honduras, training Honduran troops’ dogs to detect IEDs. There, the weather went from hot and sticky to hot and incessantly rainy.

  With his sixty-pound military-grade duffel hoisted over his shoulder, Kurt dodged through the crowded St. Louis airport and headed outside to passenger pickup. Fortunately, for a midwestern day in the middle of September—which could’ve seen any temperature extreme—today didn’t disappoint. As the flight attendant had announced, this afternoon St. Louis was pleasantly cool and partly cloudy. A light breeze blanketed Kurt’s skin, welcoming him home.

  He was tempted to close his eyes and savor it—and would have if it wasn’t for the other passengers milling about. He suspected that closing his eyes on purpose in a crowd wasn’t something he’d be comfortable doing for a long time. His edginess in the packed baggage claim area ten minutes ago had been proof enough. While waiting for his duffel, he kept catching himself scanning the crowds for signs of hidden weapons. It would take more than a signature on paper and a handshake for him to be able to let down his guard.

  In the throngs of people waiting for rides and shuttles, Kurt spotted a working guide dog. The black Lab, who was old enough for her muzzle to be sprinkled with gray, sat patiently at attention beside an older man with stooped shoulders and Coke-bottle glasses. As if sensing Kurt’s attention, the dog turned her head and met his gaze. Her brown eyes were soft and intelligent. An unexpected calm loosened Kurt’s stiff-from-traveling muscles. The Lab may not have been trained for combat, but dogs were instinctively good at sensing danger, and this one was decisively calm.

  He gave her a wink, and the dog pumped her tail before turning to look longingly at two small kids nearby whose ice-cream cones were getting drippier by the minute.

  Things Kurt had once taken for granted stood out starkly. Ice-cream cones. All-terrain strollers. Bulky SUVs whose sole purpose was to transport children from school to the park to play dates. Patient service dogs. Well-marked handicapped zones. Kurt was undeniably stateside. He was home. His eight-year military career was over.

  Less than 150 miles away, in his hometown of Fort Leonard Wood, he had a grandfather and mother he needed to face, and he would. Tomorrow. Maybe even tonight, depending on how hard jet lag kicked in.

  For this afternoon though, he was going to hang with his buddy Thomas and savor the other thing he was most looking forward to on coming home: his newly renovated ’69 Mustang Boss.

  A few years ago, while on leave and hanging out at a bar with friends, Kurt had overheard a guy trying to off-load the car. Even though it needed work, Kurt was a sucker for Mustangs, especially late-sixties models. The drunker the guy got, the more willing he was to haggle. When they shook hands on a price, Kurt thought he’d gotten the better end of the deal.

  Seeing the car in daylight the next morning, he wasn’t so sure. The original paint coat had been more rust than red, the tires were threadbare, the leather interior was ripped and in disrepair, and the car went little more than a quarter mile before overheating. But that was where Thomas came in. Kurt’s Mustang was Thomas’s biggest and best restoration yet. Thomas had sent him enough photos and video for Kurt to be certain of it. With a gleaming coat of classic red paint, the rebuilt engine, custom wheels, and an all-new interior, the renovated Mustang looked even better than Kurt could’ve imagined.

  Unfortunately, none of the cars idling in the passenger pickup zone was the one he was looking for. Not that Kurt was surprised. Thomas had never cared much for being on time. Thankfully, he didn’t keep Kurt waiting long. Before his ADHD could get the best of him, Kurt heard the Mustang’s purr a few seconds before he spotted it coming up the ramp. It looked even better than it had in the videos. A smile broke out across Kurt’s face as Thomas let out three quick honks and pulled into one of the open spaces up the row.

  Kurt was winding through the crowd as the little kid closest to him let his cone-holding wrist flop sideways. As quickly as the kid’s scoop of ice cream fell onto the concrete, the old Lab was ready. She lunged to the edge of her leash and inhaled the messy treat with a flick of her tongue. After that, she was once again sitting at attention at her master’s side without him seeming any the wiser. The kid, who’d at first looked about to cry, started to giggle. Kurt couldn’t help but laugh as well. God bless the USA.

  * * *

  Kelsey’s tires hugged the curb as she parked in front of the Sabrina Raven estate. Megan was already here, at work picking weeds out of the overgrown landscaping. Hands down, the massive old mansion was the most peculiar item ever donated to the shelter. Probably ever donated to any shelter anywhere, Kelsey was willing to bet.

  She stepped from the car and opened the back door. Orzo hopped out and looked around, sniffing the air as if to affirm they weren’t returning to the strange and scary place he’d just come from.

  “Guess who’s with me,” Kelsey called across the wide spans of lawn.

  Tossing a handful of weeds behind a bush, Megan headed her way, smiling sympathetically. Even though she’d seen her yesterday, Kelsey blinked at her supervisor’s swollen belly. She was still getting used to the idea of pregnant Megan, partially because Megan hadn’t announced her pregnancy until she was starting to show.

  Megan met her and Orzo halfway across the yard, motioning in Orzo’s direction. “I’m guessing the home visit didn’t go well?”

  “Not very. Have you ever heard of a fruitarian? Because I hadn’t. Not until this afternoon. To each their own, but they seriously wondered if their diet of fruit, seeds, and nuts might work for Orzo.”

  Megan laughed. “Oh my. I guess when you enter enough homes, you eventually see it all. I was skeptical about mixing dogs and macaws, but I knew you’d make the right call.”

  “Thanks. I recommended our dog-walking program. If I heard ri
ght over all the squawking, I think having a dog to take on long walks was what one of the sisters was most excited about.”

  “Good thinking,” Megan said, extracting a two-inch-long red downy feather from Kelsey’s thick, blond hair.

  Kelsey suspected the reason her bra was itching her skin so badly also had something to do with a macaw feather. “I may be finding those for a while.”

  A cloud pushed in front of the sinking sun, making it seem closer to dusk than it was. Kelsey glanced at the 114-year-old house. She had stepped up to the task of feeding Sabrina’s cat because she lived closest, not because she was particularly fond of the drafty old place. It would be nice to have Megan’s company for once while feeding Mr. Longtail.

  Kelsey scanned the perimeter and found the gray-and-black Maine coon sprawled out in the far corner of the front porch, grooming his long, glorious fur. She urged a sniffing Orzo along as they headed toward the house. “So what’s up? Why’d you want to meet me here?”

  Megan bit her lip and looked away guiltily, which piqued Kelsey’s curiosity. Whatever had brought Megan here this afternoon wasn’t something inconsequential.

  “I had an idea. Kind of.”

  “You kind of had an idea?”

  “I was thinking that since you come here every day to feed Mr. Longtail and staffing’s pretty good at the shelter for the first time in forever, maybe we could put your time here to better use.”

  Kelsey was at a loss. She’d certainly never expected Megan to comment in this direction. “You want me to put the five minutes I swing by here on the way home from work to better use?”

  Megan smoothed back hair that was already nicely confined in a wrap. “Remember what you said a few weeks ago about what you really wanted for your birthday?”

  “A thigh gap?”

  A laugh lightened her serious look. “Not that, the other part. About shaking things up and all.”

  “I know you’re not saying you want me to spend more time at this creepy, dilapidated house so I can shake things up. While I’m taking care of an ornery cat that half our employees hope will one day disappear so we can honor Sabrina Raven’s request and not sell her estate until after Mr. Longtail is in cat heaven.”