Page 13 of Without Judgment

“Do you have a logo? Something you can put as the heading?”

He frowned. “No. I’m concentrating on getting the contact information up there on the main page.”

“It would be better if you had a picture of your building, or something security-related, and maybe a quote. Then you’d have a dropdown that says ‘contact’ where you’d have your address and phone numbers.”

He snagged his laptop back. “I don’t have an office yet. I just need to get the information on the front page with the PO Box.”

“But what good is the PO Box? Do you expect people to send you a letter asking for services?” I wasn’t trying to be glib; it was true. What use was an address, especially if it wasn’t an actual physical location?

“No, but I thought a lone phone number would make it a bit bare.”

“You should add your email address. You’d prefer them to email, anyhow. That’d allow you to send the potential client information instead of having to take a call at any time of the day when you could be busy. And I’d add a form which says, ‘request more information,’ which captures their name and email address. Then you can send them your brochure. You have one, right?”

“Not yet,” he grumbled.

“What types of security do you provide. Personal only?”

“No. This assignment is an exception. Most of our business is in securing buildings with monitoring and alarm systems. Both residential and commercial. We also do background checks, and at some point I hope to contract with companies for physical security on premises, like guards. At least, it’s the long-term goal.”

“You should advertise that.”

“Yeah.”

I sighed, thinking he was already shutting me down. “Do you want me to set up the form and info on the main page?”

He closed the laptop. “No. It’s fine. I’ll meet you in fifteen minutes to leave for your appointment.”

One step forward, and two back.

On the way to the address I’d given him, we were quiet in my father’s rented SUV. About a half hour out of town, we pulled up in front of the dog rescue group.

Mason’s face was priceless. No doubt he’d thought we were heading to a spa. Not that I didn’t have a beauty routine. Hell, I enjoyed pampering myself, but I also loved giving back to the community. And now, since volunteering for people in the midst of a sex scandal was out of the question, I was happy to focus on animals instead.

“What are we doing here?”

“I volunteer here whenever I can. And since my other appointment is cancelled for today, I figured I’d spend time here instead. You coming in or staying in the car?”

“I’ll join you.”

He followed me in through the one door of the large, gray, one-story building. The structure contained a hundred kennels, some oversized bathtubs, grooming facilities, and a huge, fenced-in area in the back.

Melanie, the rescue group director, came to the front to greet me. She was a couple years older than me, slender, and with her brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. She needed no makeup for her fresh-faced beauty. “Hi, Avery, how are you?”

I didn’t miss the way her eyes flicked over to Mason. In them, I saw surprise and unmistakable interest. Considering how handsome he was, I couldn’t blame her, but the change in him instantly pissed me off.

“Hi, I’m Mason. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, yeah. You, too. I’m Melanie.” As if belatedly remembering I was there, she turned her gaze back in my direction. She blushed slightly. “Glad you could bring your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend. He’s security.”

And just like that, her interest rekindled. “Oh, yeah. I heard about the thing. I’m sorry. That must be awful.”

“Thanks. Is Koda still here?”

She sighed; I knew how much she cared for the big guy, too. “He is. Our boy hasn’t had any takers. He’ll be happy to see you for sure.”

Koda was a large pit bull mix whose last owners had used him to fight. Poor boy had scars all over his face and body. He was a big baby, but it would require someone special to take him home as there would have to be precautions taken regarding other dogs, not to mention children. I’d wanted to adopt him, but once my father heard about his history, he’d said absolutely not. He’d called him a liability.

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