MILE HIGH

53

“He got here last month, but he already has a new home.” Stevie’s voice drips with excitement and pride. “He gets picked up tomorrow.”

Plopping herself on one of the plush floor pillows, she sits crossed-legged as dogs rush her face, licking and sniffing, tails moving at a mile a minute. She doesn’t shoo them away. Instead, she embraces all their love and gives it right back to them in the form of belly rubs and scratches behind their ears.

Once they’ve settled from the commotion, most of the pups leave, going back to whatever they were doing before we walked in. Stevie turns my way, lifting a questioning brow when she notices me standing still by the gate before she motions to the ground.

Fuck it. This entire outfit is either going to need to be thrown out or dry-cleaned anyway. Stevie’s secondhand flannels and baggy jeans are making a whole lot more sense right about now.

I take a seat across from her with enough room between us that I can stretch out my long legs. A couple of dogs sniff my ears and head, but they’re unbothered by my presence for the most part.

“So.” Looking around the brightly colored room. “What is this place?”

A small white dog finds its way onto Stevie’s lap, curling up between her legs. “This place is a rescue shelter for senior dogs. Well, it’s for all dogs, really. But we advertise for senior dogs because they’re usually not chosen first, and we want them to be.”

“How often do you come here?”

“Whenever you guys are playing at home. I try to come here as much as possible when we aren’t traveling.”

Looking up from the dog she’s snuggling, she shoots me her most genuine smile. Her freckled cheeks aren’t as flush as they were when she was crying outside, and her blue-green eyes are much more bright and clear.

To be honest, in the couple of months I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her this happy. She sure as hell doesn’t look this excited to be on the airplane with us.

“Why don’t you work here full-time? You clearly love it.”

And why am I suggesting that? As much as I wanted her off the plane two months ago, I can’t imagine traveling without her to drive me insane—in more ways than one.

“Because unfortunately, adulthood costs money, and they can’t afford to pay me here. They can barely afford to keep the doors open.”

I tried to avoid lingering my stare on the cracks forming on the walls or the water spots in the corner of the ceiling, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t notice them. Not to mention the baseboards that could use a fresh coat of paint or the squeaky hinges on the front door that should probably be replaced.

“Not enough adoptions going on?”

“We survive off donations. Our adoptions don’t cost much because we don’t want to deter people from adopting. But even so, I don’t think many people know this little building is even here. Or if they do, it seems like they’d still rather buy a puppy than bring an older pup home.”

A big yellow lab mix comes over, licking my ear. It’s pretty gross, but instead of wiping it away, I scratch his wiry hair under his collar, pulling a content groan from the big guy.

“That’s Gus. Cheryl, the woman who was in here earlier, she’s the owner of the shelter, and that’s her dog.”

“He’s a big guy.”

“He’s a lazy guy,” Stevie laughs.

“How many do you have at home?”

Her pretty smile falls slightly. “None. My brother, the one I live with, he’s allergic.”

“Well, that’s a shame. I figured the only reason you keep wearing those disgusting sweatpants is because you’re at home cuddling with dogs all day.”

“Ha ha.” Stevie’s forced laugh is followed by a small genuine one.

Her cute giggle draws the attention of a black and tan Doberman who was sleeping in their crate. The giant dog, which admittedly looks a bit scary even to me, exits their crate, pulling a deep stretch, ass in the air.

The Doberman’s pointy ears and piercing eyes fixate right on me, and I’m not going to lie, for a moment, it looks aggressive as hell, like it wants to bite my head off. And I’m not sure being on the ground, face level, is the best idea.

Stevie follows my line of sight. “That’s Rosie. Don’t let her fool you. She’s the sweetest thing in the world. She just looks intimidating, but she’s not. She’s a marshmallow.”

Rosie takes two small steps, her head slightly surveying the room.

“And I’m her favorite.” Stevie opens her arms for Rosie to come greet her.

Instead of going to her, Rosie takes a few slow intimidating strides towards me.

She walks right between my open legs. Her yellow-brown eyes are determined and focused, staring lasers at my own. I don’t care what Stevie said about her not being intimidating. Rosie is intimidating.

That is, until she falls into my lap, burying her head into my thigh before flipping over onto her back, legs flailing in the air, asking for belly rubs.

I can’t help but laugh as both my hands massage her belly. “You’re her favorite, huh?”

“I hate you.”

Rosie’s big head turns to look up at me, her intimidation tactic wholly gone. She looks a little in love, and I think I might be too.

“How long has she been here?”

“Almost a year. Last Christmas, she was dropped off when her owners had a baby, and they decided to give Rosie up. Said they were worried about her being around kids, which is total bullshit. She would never even hurt a fly.”

Snaking my arm under her, I wrap Rosie up like a baby. She uses my bicep as a pillow while I give her scratches until she eventually falls asleep.

Big softie. Her previous owners are assholes.

“She is a marshmallow.”

“She’s kind of like you,” Stevie notes, pulling my attention back to the curly-haired flight attendant. “You’re pretty soft on the inside too, Mr. Zanders.”

“Please. I’m scary as fuck.”

“Sure thing, Elsa.”

Looking back at the giant Doberman sleeping in my arms, I can’t help but wonder who the hell wouldn’t want this dog and why the f**k she’s at a shelter. She’s perfect.

“Hey, Zanders?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what it feels like to be loved.”