by Unknown
“Estella has one dog. She’s claiming the neighbor has more than four. Wants us to arrest her for animal cruelty.”
Jonah looked up at his boss. “Shay would rather become homeless than harm an animal.”
“Good to hear. Let me know how it goes.” The sheriff stood to leave and Jonah felt his palms start to sweat.
He was attracted to her, no question. Hell, with that body and mouth, what man wouldn’t be? Smart and sassy with a side of sweet. A tempting combination.
Thankfully, he and Shay were too different, and Jonah knew just how destructive the “opposites attract” situation could be. His dad and stepmom were proof of that. So it was imperative to keep his distance.
“I can’t go.” Not to mention, putting himself between the judge’s wife and the woman he couldn’t stop picturing in her intimates, with the election a few short weeks off, was not a smart move. And Jonah was a smart guy. “I’ve got a pile of paperwork to get through, plus, animal control handles those kinds of calls.”
“That’s what I told Pricket. He told me that if he couldn’t get his wife calmed down, then he’d have to cancel on our fishing trip.”
Jonah was hosed. The sheriff had been talking about this fishing trip for months, even dropped a few grand on a new rod and special hook for the occasion.
Jonah blew out a breath. “I can drop by after I finish up here.”
The sheriff’s phone lit up. He glanced at the screen and held it up so Jonah could get a good look at the caller. It was Judge Pricket’s personal number. “Not sure that’s soon enough.”
“I’ll take it,” Warren cut in, surprising both Jonah and the sheriff.
Then again, face time with a man as influential as the judge would only help Warren in the race. But the sheriff knew what Jonah knew, that with Warren on the job, this disgruntled neighbor call had a 50 percent chance of escalating into bloodshed. “You two figure it out, but make it go away.”
“Yes, sir. I got this, sir,” the prick said, all smiles as the sheriff headed back to his office.
Jonah barely resisted telling Warren it would be less obvious if he kissed the boss’s ass directly. Instead he thought about the reports needing his attention, Warren’s willingness to do his job, and gave in. “You sure?”
“Yeah, man. Wouldn’t want the town to think we only handle the calls we want,” Warren said, popping in a breath mint and heading to the door. “Plus, have you seen the dog walker’s ass?”
Jonah had. Just like he’d seen that smug look on Warren’s face before. Which was why the paperwork would have to wait.
It was way past feeding time for the kittens, so Shay picked up the pace, much to Jabba’s irritation. Her oldest foster liked to smell the roses—and pee on each and every one of them. Which made for uncomfortable conversations with her neighbors.
At seeing Mrs. Pricket’s prized rose garden ahead, lining the sidewalk like a giant invitation, Shay pulled a treat from her pocket and wafted it in front of the dog’s nose while tugging the leash toward the other side of the street. “Come on, you know you want it.”
Jabba did want it, by the way his eyes became saucers and his nose went into overdrive, snorting and nudging at Shay’s hand to get to the bacon treat hiding inside. He also wanted the roses, and even though he was short, he was built like a tank, which meant she had to really sell that treat—or deal with her neighbor. And since they’d already shared words earlier that morning over Jabba raiding her garbage can, Shay upped the ante, doubling the treats.
It worked.
They had made it to the middle of the street when Jabba stopped. Ears up, tail slowly raising like a periscope, the dog took one last step, then dug his paws in, eyes riveted by the sight of a couple of police cruisers down the street. In front of her house.
Shay’s heart did a little digging in of its own, because there, past the rose garden and two driveways down, walking the perimeter of her house in a pair of black combat boots, department-issued pants, and a gun belt that said your friendly neighborhood badass, was just the man she’d never want scoping out her house.
She considered dragging Jabba back the way they’d come, or demanding to see Jonah’s warrant, but then, with the brute strength that came from being a beat cop for years, Jonah pulled himself up on her fence, balancing on the lip while he proceeded to lean over—way over—so he could peek through her side window and check out, most likely, the source of the barking.
Knowing that there was nothing to see—through that window at least—Shay did some checking of her own, taking her time to fully inspect the best ass wine country had to offer, which, in her defense, was practically begging her to look her fill.
And then it happened: Jonah hopped off the fence and his baton caught on a loose board, flipping up and out of his utility belt and landing on the grass. Jabba, taking this as a clear sign that a game of fetch was being called, gave an enthusiastic bark and lumbered down the street, not stopping until he had the baton in his mouth.
The dog made three complete circles of the yard before returning to drop it at Jonah’s feet, where he sat patiently, waiting for him to pick up the stick and give it a good throw.
Jonah did pick it up, carefully, with the tips of two fingers, and even from a distance Shay could see the slobber dripping off. She was about to apologize when Jonah dropped down to his knee and gave Jabba a hearty rub behind the ears.
“Hey, Sheriff,” she said when she reached her yard. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s Deputy.” Jonah straightened to his full height, tipped his hat back, and quietly studied Shay. His gaze went from her tennies to her lips, and all the good spots in between, only he didn’t smile, didn’t return the greeting. In fact, he seemed irritated and a little pissed—at her, which wasn’t unusual given their past. But given their immediate past, it rubbed her the wrong way.
“And can you clarify what you’re apologizing for?” Jonah asked, deflecting Jabba’s face, which was heading straight for his goods this time, only to make a hard left for his pocket.
“That’s right, you’re not sheriff yet, which I bet is why you’re here, snooping in my yard.” She took in his shirt, damp with the heat from the day, his pants riddled with foxtails and dandelion seeds, and smiled. “If you want to put a VOTE BAUDOUIN FOR SHERIFF sign in my yard, I need to hear your stance on implementing a mandatory spay and neuter law first.”
“I’m more interested in your stance on occupancy laws,” he said, triggering a spark of something unnerving in Shay.
There was no way he could be referring to the kittens. She’d been so careful to keep them hidden, keeping them sequestered in the spare bedroom with the curtains drawn, and stealthily inquiring about people looking for a kitten.
“Is that your way of asking me to do a sleepover?” she said.
Deputy Warren appeared from Estella’s yard and came up beside them, flashing Shay a smile that was too sweet to be trusted. “I’m willing to give you my stance on all things legal and illegal, over a nice dinner of course, if you let me stick my sign in your yard.”
Shay laughed. Jonah did not. He sent Warren a look that would have had most men taking a gigantic step back. Only Warren was either too stupid to pick up on the alpha male fumes rolling off Jonah, or he didn’t care.
“I bet you used that same line on every house on the block,” Shay joked.
Warren made a big deal about looking up and down the street, which was devoid of any declaration of support for either candidate, then flashed a practiced smile her way. “I came to your house first.”
“You came here because she’s running an illegal puppy mill out of her home. I’ve counted four or five just this week,” Estella corrected, marching across Shay’s lawn. “Look. She’s got another one.”
Jabba growled.
“Jabba is not a puppy. He is a mature dog who has been with me for a while, as you well know. And I’m not running a puppy mill, I run a foster-to-home rescue, licensed by the count
y,” Shay explained, sliding Jonah a confident smile. Only something in his expression had her internal alarm going on alert.
Then he took off his hat and—oh boy—he knew about the kittens. Knew she had more pets than allowed. And because Estella was pushing her weight around, there was no way this would end with him looking the other way.
“Mrs. Pricket claims you have too many dogs on the premises,” Warren said, and Shay could have sworn the man puffed out his chest the second Estella looked his way.
“Can one really have too many dogs?”
“According to the county, yes,” Warren said.
“Come on, Deputy. They’re cute little fuzzy animals,” Shay said casually. “Not worthy of a multiple-officers callout.” And when Jonah still looked constipated, she asked, “Tell me, did you run the sirens?”
“Shay,” Jonah said in warning, but it was already too late, she had riled the beast.
“This isn’t a joke,” Estella snapped, wagging a condemning finger in Shay’s direction. “You run a kennel in a residential area. They have rules. And you, Miss Michaels, are a rule breaker!”
“I run a foster-to-home rescue,” Shay repeated because kennels provided a temporary home, and Shay provided a temporary family. And she didn’t comment on the rule breaker part because it was totally true.
“You collect pets no one else wants and then when you get sick of them you pawn them off on people who are too nice to say no.”
Shay opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Was that how Estella saw her? How people in this town saw her?
Shay didn’t keep the animals she fostered because they didn’t belong to her. She knew that going in. She wasn’t sure how to be a part of a family, but after years of watching other families interact, she knew how to spot a good one. It was her superpower. What she was good at. And if she kept one of her babies, she’d have to keep them all, and then what would happen to the other animals she would have fostered?
“I foster them,” Shay defended quietly, surprised at how close to tears she sounded. “I get them ready for their forever family. And you, Mrs. Pricket, are rude and mean and a terrible dog owner.”
Estella’s hand flew to her chest, her facing creasing in horror. “And to think, I almost listened to Ida’s suggestion and reconsidered allowing you to come to Bark in the Park.”
Damn it!
“Okay,” Jonah said, inserting himself in the middle. “Let’s take a walk.”
Without waiting for Shay to answer, he took her by the arm to lead her away from the fuming judge’s wife. Only Shay refused to budge. She was afraid that if she walked away, Estella would show Warren her animals and he’d confiscate them.
He gave another little tug on her arm. Shay tugged back until Jonah let out a sigh.
“Are you arresting me?” she asked, because that was the only way she was going to leave her pets.
“Do I need to?”
Shay looked at Warren, who was getting an earful from Estella about obtaining a search warrant, even going as far as to offer to have her husband draft one up immediately. Then Shay glanced at her bedroom window, where she knew her kittens were waiting for her to come home and make their day right. Even thinking about losing her pets made her sick.
Jonah must have sensed her hesitance because he lowered his voice and said, “Nothing is going to happen today, Shay. So walk with me.”
She paused to look him over, gauge if he was telling the truth, which revealed nothing since the man was a ninja master at covering up his emotions. But he was reading her loud and clear. His expression softened and he gifted her a warm, reassuring smile that had her resolve melting, and added, “Just to the curb.”
“Fine. But I charge ten dollars an hour for my walking services.”
“And I carry a gun and cuffs,” he said in that authoritative voice that reminded her she was a woman. And she’d been far too long without a man.
“So you keep saying.”
When Jonah was confident they were out of eavesdropping range, he sat on the curb and waited for Shay to take a seat next to him. Partly because he was afraid she’d make a break for it. He knew damn well she was over the legal limit for pet occupancy. He just wasn’t sure by how many. And she might be tiny, but he knew that those little legs could cover ground fast, and he wasn’t in the mood for a foot chase today.
But mainly he chose to sit because Estella’s last comment had seemed to knock the floor out from under Shay.
“You know that the county only allows four pets per household,” Jonah said, sending his best hard-cop look her way, not that it mattered since she was looking everywhere but at him.
“It’s a stupid rule,” she mumbled to her shoes.
“Then you also know that if you have any over that amount I have to fine you.”
“Okay.” She finally glanced his direction and, man, was she gorgeous. She was tough and independent and passionate and a woman who would stop at nothing to protect what was hers. But the look she was giving him right there, in that second, was one he hadn’t seen before now. It was one that told him she was also breakable. “Just promise that you aren’t going to take them.”
He wanted to say yes he promised, so that she’d start looking at him like he was a good guy, the guy everyone had made him out to be. Only he wasn’t that guy anymore, hadn’t been for a while, and Shay knew that. Knew that he was broken too. She didn’t look at him like the others in town, she looked at him as if she understood his struggle. As if she’d seen through the badge and persona to the dark, ugly truth he kept hidden. And that scared him as much as it got to him.
“I spotted one older dog through the side window, another two napping in the backyard, a kitten climbing the curtain in your bedroom, and this one, for a total of five animals. Did I miss any?”
She shook her head and he would have believed her, was ready to stand up and call this day over, but then her shoulders sank and—shit—she gave a little nod, sending her dark hair spilling over her shoulder. “How many?”
“Four adult dogs, and a litter of kittens.”
“Define litter.”
“Five kittens,” she said quietly. “There were six originally, but one must have escaped.”
“Jesus, Shay.” He ran a hand down the back of his neck, cupping it at the base and trying to squeeze out the weight of the town that had settled there. One pet over he could work out—more than that and there was no way he could get Estella to stand down while Shay handled her business. “What do you want me to do?”
“Give me time to find them families,” she pleaded. “Yodel is going to his home this weekend, and the kittens, as soon as they are old enough to be fixed, they will go fast. And then I won’t go over the legal limit again, I promise.”
Jonah leveled her with a look.
“Okay, I won’t go over the limit unless it is an emergency.” Which could be as simple as her coming across a dog with a cold.
“Do you have any friends who could foster them?” The look on her face said no. Great.
“Shay, you need to call the owner and explain that you have to return the kittens.”
“I can’t.” Shay’s face went pale. “The, um, owner, couldn’t provide a safe place for them so I promised to find them a nice family.”
He was about to ask who the owner was so he could give them a call when Warren stepped off the curb and right into Jonah’s space.
“As much as we’d love to help out, Miss Michaels, the law is there for a reason,” Warren said, rocking back on his heels. “And like I was just explaining to Mrs. Pricket, we can’t pick and choose which ones we follow or the whole system suffers. Right, Deputy?”
Warren’s tone said game fucking on. His cocky stance said he was stepping up that game and was now in this race to win sheriff. And the son of a bitch had used the last person Jonah wanted to disappoint to make his statement clear.
“What’s he talking about?” Shay asked, unaware of the tension that was arci
ng between the two men.
“You have been fined in the past for violating the county’s animal-harboring laws,” Jonah explained.
“Once,” Shay argued, looking from Estella to Warren and back to Jonah, and the desperation he saw there killed him. “Once and that was when I was shooting the calendar, which by the way is done and I have found almost all of them homes already.”
Something everybody there knew, but it didn’t make a difference. “It still makes you a repeat offender and means there are limits to how we can handle this,” Jonah said gently, hating what he was about to say next, hating even more how it would impact Shay. “By law, we have to give you thirty days to find them a new home.”
“Thirty days? That’s impossible. My kittens won’t be old enough to place for another six weeks, I’ve been banned from Bark in the Park, and it’s the middle of kitten and puppy season, which means finding families for my older dogs will be more difficult.” Shay hugged her arms around her stomach and Estella had the decency to look ashamed. “I need more time.”
“I wish I could give it to you,” Jonah said, but once he wrote up the report it would be out of his hands—and it was his job to write that report. Not to mention if he didn’t, Warren undoubtedly would—and Warren wouldn’t give Shay any time at all if it meant securing Estella’s vote. “After thirty days this case transfers to animal control and any pet they find over the four allotted will be removed.”
I’m never going to make it in time.”
Shay cracked the oven door to peek at the carrot scones, which were still a few minutes shy of golden. Her cheddar biscuits, on the other hand, were seconds from bursting into flames.
“Crap.” She pulled out the charred biscuits and placed them on the stove top, then opened the window, hoping it would combat the smoke.
It didn’t help.
Jabba lifted his head to sniff the air, then the floor around the entire room until his nose led him back to the stove, where he sat and looked up adoringly at Shay, giving her a few big doggie eye bats.
