Shelter Me

by Allyson Charles

  James stepped inside, nodding to Huckleberry in greeting. He poked his head in the rooms along the hall until he found her dining room. “Christ.” He frowned at the stacks of folders and papers littering the surface of the long oak table. An ancient desktop computer squatted on one end, the monitor coated in a thin layer of dust. Stacks of folders covered the rest. “How do you live in this mess?”

  Lifting a couple of stacks onto the floor, she slid into a chair. “I know where everything is. And I usually eat at the kitchen table.”

  He unloaded the food cartons in the available square of space and started clearing off more stacks. “A cluttered space indicates a cluttered mind. And vice versa.”

  She rolled her neck, trying to ease the growing tension. “Look, it was nice of you to agree to advise me on my nonprofit, but don’t insult my home.” Or was it her brain he’d insulted? Her stomach rumbled, and she pulled a carton of steaming beef toward her. She looked through the plastic bag for chopsticks.

  “Uh.” James shook his leg, dislodging Clem’s claws from his slacks. “How many cats do you have?”

  “Three. That’s Clementine. You met Huckleberry by the front door, and Pumpkin is around here somewhere.”

  “What’s with the fruit names?”

  Sarah shrugged. “The shelter director has a greenhouse. She tends to name the animals in her care with the plants she grows. And pumpkins aren’t fruit.”

  James cleared off a chair and sat next to her. “Technically, a pumpkin is a fruit. It’s part of the seed-bearing str—”

  “No.” She held up her hand. “We’re not having that conversation.” Their conversation was already strange enough. She wasn’t going down the what-is-or-isn’t fruit path.

  He shrugged good-naturedly.

  “What do you need to know about my feral cat foundation?”

  James grabbed his own set of chopsticks, broke them apart, and rubbed the two sticks together between his palms. “Can I see your business plan?”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “How about a list of anticipated start-up costs.” He dug into his own carton, his chopsticks grabbing a huge lump of dripping noodles.

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “Uh, I came up with a logo and letterhead?” She hated how her voice made that sound like a question. Like she doubted herself. It was a beautiful logo. She’d chosen the name of her organization based on the way its initials looked linked together. She’d added a cute little cat’s paw print tucked below and voilà. Her dream was looking more like reality with just that little bit of graphic design.

  “Oh good Christ Almighty.” James dropped the carton and took a deep breath. “Do you have anything besides an idea?”

  “I have notes from my talk with the manager of the shelter and internet research on feral cat behavior.” She searched the stacks of folders on the floor and found the one with a lined yellow pad sitting on top. She got up to grab it and a pen. “And my friend is an organizational consultant. She’s coming up with ideas to give me the space to house the cats I can adopt out.” Cassie had left a message that even though Sarah had been out all afternoon, she’d still examined her office and would wow her with ideas in a couple of days. And if that didn’t work, Sarah would be looking for a new space to rent. She didn’t want to let Shelter Bay’s wild cat population down.

  She popped a bite of beef into her mouth. That should be enough for him to work with.

  His annoyed huff seemed to disagree. James grabbed the yellow pad and eyed her notes. Squinting, he turned his head to the side and brought the pad closer to his face.

  “Do you need glasses?” she said sweetly. “I think my dad left a pair of his cheaters here.”

  He scowled. “Your handwriting looks like hieroglyphics. And where are your numbers? If I’m interpreting this correctly, these notes are about the medical side of treating the animals, not the costs.”

  He rolled up the cuffs of his shirt, exposing strong forearms. He twiddled the pen, and a flexor muscle rippled.

  A noodle fell from her chopsticks onto the table. Blushing, she grabbed a napkin from the plastic bag and cleaned it up, hoping her hair blocked her face from James’s view. No need for him to see her drool. She’d always had a thing for forearms. Weird, yes, but she wasn’t going to question how she was wired.

  “How many cats would you be taking care of?” he asked.

  “The last estimate of the feral cat population was one hundred and fifty, but unless I start a breeding prevention program, that number will continue to rise.”

  His jaw dropped. “You want to take in one hundred and fifty cats?” Eyeballing Clementine, who had sidled in when the food had arrived, James couldn’t keep the look of disgust off his face. He probably hadn’t tried, either.

  “No, I want to feed and give medical attention to one hundred and fifty cats.” She stabbed her chopsticks in the carton. “I’d only take in the cats who are receiving care temporarily, and the cats young enough to adopt out. I’d probably only be keeping five to ten cats in my clinic at one time.”

  He grabbed a spring roll and dunked it in a tub of soy sauce. “Okay. First, come up with a list of all the costs that will be associated with this project, then we can budget. How are you going to raise money?”

  “I thought maybe I’d use some of my profits—”

  “No.” He jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t comingle funds from your for-profit business with your foundation. This will be a non-profit. A charity. You need to come up with a fundraising plan.”

  Her stomach spiraled to the floor. “Ask people for money?” Before she’d hired Melanie, she’d been hard-pressed to send out a bill for her services that even covered her costs. She hated asking people for money.

  James raised an eyebrow. “Yes. If you want this to be successful, man up and ask for donations.”

  Sarah slouched in her chair. Maybe she hadn’t thought this project all the way through.

  “Look, you’ll figure that part out.” He passed her a spring roll. “To get the ball rolling, however, here’s what you need to do.”

  And then he listed it out, step by step. She had to hand it to him. For all his pushiness, or maybe because of it, his mind was as organized as a drill sergeant. He knew all the different agencies she had to file with, the fees, and the best place on the internet to find some DIY incorporation forms.

  “Huh, you actually know what you’re talking about.” She downloaded the first form he’d mentioned. “I thought you might be full of hot-air.”

  “Why would you think that?” He frowned.

  “You’re up here living with your dad.” She shrugged. “I thought you might have been fired or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  He scowled. “I don’t live with my dad. I’m up here temporarily. He had a heart attack a couple months ago and needs help recovering. I’m technically on leave from my firm, but I’m seeing some clients virtually because the work doesn’t stop just because I’m not there.”

  He wasn’t the most silver-tongued of men, but he was helping his dad. And that won a lot of brownie points in Sarah’s book.

  He reached in front of her, stretching for the plastic bag and the fortune cookies inside. The rolled cuff of his shirt brushed against her breast, and she sucked in a breath. Sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye, she tried to figure out if the contact had been intentional. But he cracked open his cookie, apparently oblivious to the fact that he’d gotten farther with her than any man in the past year.

  Which was just sad. She didn’t have time to date. With her business, starting a non-profit, and maybe meeting her bio dad, her dance card was full.

  Still, it might be nice if some guys tried to persuade her from her celibacy.

  She stabbed a bit of broccoli. Irritating man. He’d asked her out. Now he showed about as much interest as he did in her cats. Maybe she still stank? As discretely as possible, she lifte
d her arm and sniffed.

  All good on the smell front. So what was it? Maybe he thought she wasn’t interested and had decided not to push? She bit her bottom lip. Perhaps if she got a little closer…

  As discreetly as possible, she scooted her chair closer to his, keeping an eye out for stray cat tails.

  He frowned, a divet appearing between his eyebrows. “I don’t know why they don’t make real fortunes anymore. This is just a declarative statement. Traveling helps you expand your horizons. Is a trip in my future?”

  Thump, thump. Her chair inched closer. Yes, she was busy, but she still had time for one little kiss, right? Just a test, to make sure she hadn’t forgotten how. She inhaled. Even over the Chinese food she could smell him—soap, and spice, and male—and wow did he smell good.

  “James.” She rested her hand on the table and slid it towards his. “Have you—”

  “Here.” He shoved a cookie in her hand. “See if you get an actual fortune.”

  She looked at the cookie, looked at James, considering. Nah, the man still looked more appetizing. She tossed the cookie aside. “James, I was thinking. I know I said I wanted this to be just business—”

  He pulled a carton towards him, looking for leftovers. “Don’t worry, I didn’t believe you.”

  She sat back, her warm and sexy feelings evaporating. He was really putting the kibosh on her whole seduction thing she had going on. But she didn’t need to be best friends with him. He was leaving soon and she just wanted… A little fun? To feel like a normal woman again?

  To not feel alone?

  She closed the door on that uncomfortable thought. She had plenty of friends and family. Plenty.

  But he was a good-looking, single man in her house. Even if he was annoying, perhaps he could put that irritating mouth to better use.

  “Regardless.” She rested her hand on the back of his chair and leaned forward. “If you wanted to take this a little farther, I might not be against the idea anymore.”

  “Is that right?” He turned, his eyebrow arched. She couldn’t decide if the fact he could raise one eyebrow was one more thing to find aggravating about him, or downright sexy.

  “Uh huh.” She leaned closer. He really did smell good. “In fact—”

  His eyes widened, and he leapt from his chair.

  Sarah couldn’t stop her forward momentum. Without his weight in the chair, it toppled sideways, taking her along with it.

  “Son of a bitch.” He reached down and grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. “You should be more careful.”

  “Me?” She rubbed her elbow. He was a guest in her house, she reminded herself. And he was helping her with her non-profit. She should bite her tongue.

  He moved her aside and stepped in front of her, giving her his back.

  Her skin flushed with heat. She poked his shoulder. “I don’t know who you think you are, buddy, but in my world, men don’t invite themselves over and then act like I’m a leper when I make a move.” And it had been a tiny move. Nothing obnoxious or aggressive.

  She bit her lip. God, were her moves that bad that guys dove out of the way before she could touch them?

  Her stomach rolled. “And if you don’t—”

  He spun and clapped his hand over her mouth. “Be quiet,” he whispered.

  She bit his finger, and he yanked his hand from her, shaking out the sting. Before she could continue her tirade, he said, “There’s someone outside. I saw them through your window.”

  Oh. Her shoulders sank. Well, why hadn’t he said that in the first place. She strode for the front door. “It’s probably one of my idiot brothers.” She pulled open the door. “He probably smelled the food from miles away…”

  No other car was in her gravel driveway except hers and James’s. A shiver rolled down her spine. “Are you sure you saw someone?” she whispered.

  “Yes.” He pushed past her. “Go inside. I’ll check it out.”

  She frowned. Leaning into the front entryway closet, she pulled out the thick, wooden baseball bat her dad had given her and crept after James.

  Her feet crunched on the gravel of her drive. James spun, pointing for her to go back in the house, and nearly smacked his face into the bat. He jerked back, hissing in a breath.

  Go back inside, he mouthed.

  Sarah shook her head. She had her bat. She had three brothers who’d made sure she knew how to use it. She wasn’t going to cower in her house wondering what was going on outside, whether James was being slashed to death by a rabid raccoon or chasing away a crazed burglar.

  He jabbed his finger at the door again.

  She shook her head.

  He glared.

  She shrugged.

  A rustle sounded from the side of the house, putting an end to their mime-off. James gave her one last stern look before tiptoeing around the corner, Sarah one step behind.

  The sun was halfway through setting, and her yard was filled with eerie purple shadows. But the light was still strong enough to see the small figure standing on a ladder taping a large banner to the eave of her roof.

  Sarah lowered the bat. The woman was in her fifties and had a salt-and-pepper pixie cut. It took Sarah a moment to place the face. She’d only ever seen it in the grocery store and in the glass-blowing studio the woman owned. “Kimberlee? Kimberlee Owens? Is that you?”

  The woman started and teetered on the ladder.

  James leapt forward to steady it.

  She tore off another strip of duct tape from her roll. “Yes. It’s me. And unless you stop with your foolish nonsense, you’re going to be seeing a lot more of this.” Her backside wriggled as she smacked the tape on the corner of the banner.

  Sarah wrinkled her nose. She really didn’t want to see more of her tookus-shaking.

  Kimberlee tossed the roll of tape to James and climbed down. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking for all the world like she was the aggrieved party.

  “What are you doing in my side yard?” Sarah asked.

  “Keep Wild Animals Wild,” James read from the banner. He placed the tape on top of the ladder. “What’s this about?”

  Kimberlee lifted her chin. “It’s my first strike in my campaign to stop Dr. Martineau from destroying the feral cat population of Shelter Bay. Humans have been colonizing wild animals for far too long, and it’s time it stopped.” She sniffed. “Every time I see a Chihuahua, my heart weeps. What we did to the noble wolf is unforgiveable.”

  James looked at Sarah.

  She shook her head. She had nothing. No frame of reference to understand what in the heck was going on.

  “Wait.” Sarah frowned. “Were you the woman who called me asking questions about my non-profit?”

  “I was.” Kimberlee wagged her finger. “And until you desist with your idea of a feral cat foundation, I will plaster all of Shelter Bay with signs like this. I will tell all of your clients that you want to destroy the wild and lovely nature of earth’s creatures. That you want to impose your conception of civilization on our animal brethren.”

  “Hold up.” Sarah rubbed her temple. “You don’t think cats and dogs should be domesticated?” She’d heard a lot of crazy-talk in Shelter Bay. The town seemed to encourage the eccentric. But this was a new one for her.

  “Animals weren’t put on this earth for humans to subjugate into pets.”

  “No.” James rubbed his stomach. “They were put here so we could eat them. Do you think that Mongolian beef is still warm?” he asked Sarah.

  Because that’s what he was worried about now? “I have a microwave.” She turned to Kimberlee. “Let me get this straight. You think we never should have domesticated dogs and cats—”

  “And horses.”

  “—and because of that…unusual belief, you want to shut down my foundation. Let the homeless cats run around wild?”

  “Not only should we let them, but we should encourage it.” Kimberlee shook her head sa
dly. “You destroy each animal’s spark of individuality when you tame it. I cannot allow you to proceed.”

  James blew out a breath. He strode forward, reached up, and tore the banner from her roof. “Well, this animal’s spark of individuality is saying it’s time for you to go. Unless you want me to call the police. Trespassing is against the law up here, right?”

  Sarah nodded. Although if her brother got the call, he wouldn’t have time to arrest Kimberlee. He’d be too busy rolling on the ground laughing. “Look Kimberlee, I really don’t think you understand the implications—”

  “I understand what you plan to do just fine.” She snatched the banner from James and rolled it up. She closed the ladder and hefted a rung over her shoulder. The duct tape rolled to the ground. “You need to understand that this is not over.” She tried squatting to pick it up but the ladder got in her way. “I will not stop.” She bent, and the ladder slid down her shoulder. She clutched it with both hands to keep from dropping it. “Damn it, just keep it.” She kicked the tape in James’s direction.

  Kimberlee pointed her index and middle fingers at her eyes then flipped them around at Sarah. “I’m watching you. This battle has just begun.”

  She stalked past Sarah, knocking into her shoulder, and marched around the house. Sarah and James watched as she made her way down the drive and out of sight around the bend. A car’s engine started and the distinct sound of tires spinning out on loose gravel met their ears.

  Sarah shook her head but nothing became clearer. “I’m sorry, James. That was…”

  “Batshit crazy?” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. “That seems to be par for the course up here.” His phone beeped with an incoming text. He pulled it out and sighed. “Dinner was great, but I’ve got to go.”

  Disappointment slid through her veins. Which was silly. He’d advised her on the non-profit. They’d gotten a strange show with their meal courtesy of Kimberlee. The evening should be over.

  She didn’t want it to be over. “I think I have some ice cream in the freezer. Are you sure you don’t want to stay for some des—?”