“Uncle Zach neutered.” Nick snickered.
“It’s not a word we guys like to hear,” Logan told him. He stepped back and watched Lucy towel-dry the terrier and mutter nonsense words to the dog. For a woman who claimed not to understand dogs, she was doing a good job of using the dryer, brush and comb on the dog and talking to him in the slightly high-pitched tone dogs enjoyed. She laughed when the dog jumped up on his hind legs and offered her a wet kiss.
“Who couldn’t resist a charmer like you?” she cooed at the dog.
Abruptly, he called out to Kristi, “Get one of the Adoption Day T-shirts for Lucy, will you?” Then he made for the door leading to the clinic.
He felt a tightening within his body at the idea of Lucy giving him the kind of attention she gave the dog. He wouldn’t mind a kiss on the nose. Or any other part of his body…
Lucy hadn’t missed the vibes practically jumping off Logan. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear he had looked at her the way a big ol’ tomcat looked at a fat mouse. Not that she’d call herself fat. The man was interested. And why wouldn’t he act interested now? she asked herself. She’d been tracking him like a cat who hadn’t been fed in days.
“Three hours here and I’m already thinking in animal metaphors,” she murmured.
“Animal metaphors?” Kristi said, walking up with a bright red T-shirt in one hand. “This could be interesting.” She held out the garment.
“Cute.” Lucy looked at the black-lined heart centered on the shirt with “Adopt With an Open Heart” written inside it. “But there’s nothing on here to advertise the clinic.” She wasn’t surprised to see that Kristi’s shirt was black with a red heart.
“Logan doesn’t have these adoption days to promote the clinic. He does it to find homes for the animals.” Kristi stroked the head of the terrier who leaned contentedly against her leg. “Which is why I have two cats and a turtle at home. Jeremy has two dogs and Gwen has three. Brenda says she refuses to give in to the animals. But how can you resist these faces?” She bent down, cupped the terrier’s face in her hands and gave him a smooch. “Huh, Sweetie Pie?”
“Kristi named her that because she’s so sweet,” Nick explained, coming out from the rear of the kennels, now wearing an oversized red shirt himself.
Lucy felt as if she was seeing a new side to her son. He’d quickly become a part of this group. He might have been thirteen to Kristi’s nineteen, but the young woman treated him as an equal. Lucy felt a sudden constriction in her chest.
My baby’s growing up.
She suddenly turned away to hide the tears she could feel forming in her eyes.
“I’ll be right back.” Her voice sounded thick to her ears.
“Lucy, are you okay?” Kristi asked.
“I’m fine. Maybe I’m allergic to one of the dogs,” she muttered as she grabbed her tote bag and made her escape to a nearby bathroom.
When she left the small room later, her eyes were mercifully dry and she wore the T-shirt over black shorts she’d brought with her. She was walking with her head down, so intent on not looking for Logan, that she didn’t realize she was on a collision course until she literally walked into his chest.
“Oomph!” She reared back so quickly she would have fallen on her butt if Logan hadn’t grabbed hold of her arms. “Sorry.” She tried to step back but he still didn’t release her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“You have a hard chest,” she said, and then could have kicked herself when she saw the amused glint in his eyes. She noticed they were deep, brown and dusted with gold.
Cat eyes. She mentally gave herself a good shake. Stop with the animal metaphors!
“Lucy.”
It wasn’t until then she realized he must have said her name more than once.
“Sorry. I’m not used to being dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn.”
He grinned. “Not a morning person, are you?”
“Not even close. It usually takes four or five cups of industrial-strength coffee to get me going.”
Logan’s smile was slow and way too dangerous for Lucy’s peace of mind. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He walked away before she could ask for clarification. She decided she was better off not knowing.
Chapter Three
Lucy was in the midst of a sight and sensory overload. All around her dogs barked and cats meowed. There were even two hamsters racing on squeaky exercise wheels.
“Is it always this crazy?” she asked Kristi, who’d just presented a happy family with the equally happy Joey.
Kristi reached down and hugged the dog. “You be good, sweetie,” she whispered in the dog’s ear. Her smile was wistful as she watched them walk away. The dog danced alongside the little boy who held on to the leash. “I’m always glad when they’re adopted, but I also feel as if I’m losing them.” She looked around. “As to your question, yes, it’s always this crazy. Probably why Logan only has Adoption Day once a month unless we’re overloaded with animals.”
“Excuse me, you’re one of the adoption people, right?” A woman holding a furry bundle stopped Lucy.
“Yes, I am, can I help you with something?”
“That’s why I’m here. Adopt this one.” The woman thrust the dog into Lucy’s arms.
“I, uh—” Lucy looked down at the white and black spiky fur surrounding a tiny muzzle and black shoe-button eyes. Small pointed ears—one white, one black—perked up as the puppy returned her studying gaze. An odd-shaped black patch covered one eye while the rest of his face was white. He looked as if he’d been hurriedly stitched up. She mentally searched the dogs they had brought out that morning. She knew she would have remembered this little one. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall this one—”
“Oh no! I’m not adopting him. I’m giving him to you to adopt out or whatever you do,” the woman said in a bright voice.
Lucy instantly felt out of her depth. She looked around, desperate for some assistance. She breathed a sigh of relief when Logan looked her way and started walking over. “I don’t think—” She tightened her hold when the puppy wiggled in her arms.
“Hello, Mrs. Crenshaw, it’s nice to see you,” Logan said smoothly.
The woman turned to him. “Hello, Logan. As I explained to your helper, I want you to find a home for this dog.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Lucy asked, tightening her hold on the wiggling puppy.
The woman stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You can’t see it? All you have to do is look at him. He looks like a patchwork quilt. My house is French provincial, not country or even modern.”
Logan smiled as the puppy stretched out his head and licked his fingers. “He looks like a healthy terrier to me.”
“Oh, he is. It’s just that Harry got it wrong again. Just as he did with that poodle. And the shih tzu. And that horrid little Pekingese with the strange face. You can understand, can’t you?” she appealed to Lucy. “My husband feels we need pets in the house. He thinks because we live in a rural area we should act more rural. I love animals, but he just doesn’t understand that they have to be the right kind of animal. This one isn’t it.”
Lucy looked over the woman dressed in pale-blue capris, a blue-and-pink striped boat-neck knit shirt and matching blue leather high-heeled slides. The designer sunglasses were propped on a nose that Lucy