a walk. I was just about to take her for one.” The Border collie–spaniel mix stuck his white-and-black muzzle through his fence and whimpered. “I know, baby. You want some attention, too.” She rubbed his snout.
“Can I take him for a walk?”
“Probably not a good idea with your leg. But you can sit with him if you want.”
“I’d love that. In fact, point out the ones who need some attention and I’ll take care of it while you’re gone.”
He certainly wasn’t making her heart grow any less fond of him by being so sweet and concerned over her strays. “You sure?”
“It’s not like I have anything else to do.”
“Okay, hit this side.” She gestured to the pens on the right. “Love on as many as you can or want to.”
“Will do.” He headed for the first pen, then snapped his fingers and turned back toward her. “I almost forgot my proposal. I went to our old church yesterday and signed you up to supply the pets and oversee the petting zoo for the carnival this weekend.”
Her neck heated. Was that steam blowing out her ears? “Without asking me?”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and they needed volunteers fast or the whole thing was threatening to fall apart.” He shrugged. “They’d already advertised the petting zoo, so they have to supply it. And just think, it might be a chance to get some of your strays adopted out.”
“But I don’t go to church there anymore.” She propped her hands on her hips.
“I know. Caitlyn told me.”
“So did you ever stop to think maybe I’m tied up with my church this weekend? Or with work? Or with life?” Not that she had one, really, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Your church? You still go?”
“Of course I go.” She was a glorified pew warmer, just going through the motions, but she wouldn’t mention that. “There are other churches, you know.”
“I just assumed. Caitlyn said you hadn’t been since...”
Her dad died. Her eyes stung. “I haven’t. Mom and I switched to one in Denton.”
“Did something happen at our church?”
“No.” She sat down on a hay bale. “It was just overwhelming. Everybody was so sympathetic and sad for us. The sympathy almost smothered us. We wanted to go somewhere where nobody knew us. Where nobody knew Dad.” Her voice wobbled. “Where they didn’t feel sorry for us.” Where Ally could pretend she was still leaning on God.
The hay bale gave with his weight as he sat beside her. “They were sad for you because they care.”
“I know.” She swiped at her eyes. “It was just too much.”
He put an arm around her shoulders.
Ally’s pulse thrummed at his nearness. In fact, he could probably hear it. More than anything, she wanted to snuggle close, accept his comfort.
For a breath of a second, she let her head rest against his shoulder. But if she stayed, she might lose her heart. And he’d realize how she felt. But she couldn’t feel that way about him or any other man. Self-sufficient Ally didn’t need anyone. Wouldn’t allow herself to. She pulled away from him and stood.
“I’ll make a few calls, see if I can rustle up animals for the petting zoo.”
“And think about overseeing it? It starts after school lets out Friday and ends at seven. Then ten till three on Saturday.”
“Sorry, those are my work hours.” She scooped the puppy away from Cody, touching him as little as possible. “I need to walk Buttercup. You start dog-sitting while I go.” She grabbed a leash off the wall and strode toward the exit.
“Hey, Ally.”
“Hmm.” She stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Are you mad at me?”
Yes. I’m mad at you for leasing my land. For that stupid kiss and leaving me behind all those years ago. But she couldn’t tell him that. And that wasn’t what he meant anyway.
Her shoulders slumped. “No. But in the future, don’t sign me up for anything without asking me first.”
“I meant about the kiss.”
Great. Cody held his breath. Maybe she’d think that break in his voice came from the awkward subject.
“What kiss?” Ally kept her back to him.
She didn’t remember? Had it meant so little to her? Could the same kiss that turned Cody’s world upside down be forgettable for her? Oh, how he wished he hadn’t brought it up. Especially since his emotions had betrayed him. But he had and he couldn’t let it drop.
“After your dad—I got carried away with comforting you. I was a kid and you were so close to me. You smelled good and I just wanted to make you feel better.” You smelled good? Just shut up, Warren. Before you say something else stupid and make it even worse.
“It didn’t mean anything.” Her response was little more than a whisper.
“I know.” To her, anyway. His heart crashed on the concrete between his boots. “I just want you to know—you’re safe from me. So if you ever need a shoulder, I’m not a kid anymore. I can do just comfort.”
“Good to know.” She latched the leash on Buttercup’s collar and vaulted out of the barn.
Cody stood and looked skyward. “You’re safe from me?” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. It sounded dumb, and with everything in him, he wanted to take it back.
But at least maybe things would be easier between them now. He’d help her with her animals and, if she agreed, the carnival so her strays might be adopted. And deep down, so he could spend time with her.
On top of everything else, he’d lied to her. He hadn’t signed her up for the petting zoo. But telling her he had was the only way he could think of to convince her to participate. But, Lord, it’s for Your good. It’ll help the church. And maybe some of Ally’s strays will find a home. So yes, I lied and I’m doing it for the wrong reasons, but You can take my selfish intentions and work them for good.
The Border collie whimpered.
“Hey, guy. What’s your name?” Cody read the plate by the gate. “Oreo.” He unlatched the pen and stepped inside. In the corner, he sat on a chair and the dog reared up on his knees. “A fitting name.”
Ally was the kind of woman who named each stray. The kind of woman he could spend the rest of his life with. But how much life did he have left?
He had to be satisfied with being her friend. Only her friend.
Oreo settled his chin on Cody’s knee. “You wanna come home with me, don’t you, boy?” The dog’s ears perked up. “I think I’ll tell Ally to hold you for me until I get a bit more steady on my feet.”
His phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket. Mitch. “Hello?”
“Those persons of interest we discussed. No record. Upstanding citizens.”
“You’re sure?”
“We’re talking Boy Scouts. Literally. Any more trouble?”
“No.” Cody scratched between the dog’s ears. “Maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree—pun intended.”
“I hope so. You let me know if there are any more incidents.”
“I will. Thanks.”