Page 46 of The Love Shack

Whitley gestured over to the fenced area for the shelter. “We’ve got it covered. I don’t think we’ve ever had this many volunteers at one time. Between me and Wheeler, the dogs are loving it, and Yardley and Mimi are keeping the cats entertained. Emily is coming tomorrow. She adopted her pets—a bonded cat and dog—from Berkley, before Berkley moved here and took over The Love Shack.”

“I wasn’t aware.” But he liked hearing it. Keeping all the names straight had been a challenge at first, but now he knew Yardley and Mimi were best friends. “Yardley is the wedding planner, right?”

“Yup. And Emily is the flower lady.”

He nodded.

“Erin’s been keeping track of everything so we can give Berkley a report whenever she emerges.”

“Emerges?” What did that mean?

“Yeah, see, she and Betty went inside a few hours ago and haven’t come back out.” She bit her lip and glanced at the door to the house, which wasn’t that far from the shelter. “I hope that doesn’t mean Berkley is really sick. She looked pale when I got here, like she could sit down and nod off—Where are you going?”

Already on his way, Lawson said, “I’ll just check on her and see what’s up.” Everything Whitley had said only added to his concern. He didn’t like it.

In so many ways, Berkley had an indomitable spirit. She was a fighter, thank God, given what she’d been put through. She’d been used by a cheater, viciously maligned and lost her mother, all at a young age, yet she’d come out of it with a huge heart and the drive to help animals.

Catching up to him, Whitley said, “Betty’s still in there with her.”

“I won’t intrude,” he promised. “I’ll give you a full report in just a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she said, not looking convinced. “But if it irks Betty, tell her it was your idea.”

He sent her a grin. “I’ll take all the blame.” Opening the door quietly, Lawson glanced around the interior. The side door he’d used, which was closest to the shelter, opened into a small laundry area and mudroom. Right beyond that was the kitchen.

It amused him, in a somewhat detached way, that although the shelter was big and modern, sleek in design with everything Berkley would need to provide the best care for the animals, her house was much more compact, clearly meant for only one person.

He wouldn’t call it a tiny house, but it was definitely on the small side. A two-seater café table took up the available space between appliances and counters. Through the kitchen he could see the living room, and a hallway set at an angle that probably led to two bedrooms.

Unlike his place, her décor was purely functional. Coffee maker on the counter, cups on pegs behind it. She’d left herself almost no room for meal prep, but then, she’d already said she ate alone. As he looked around again, this time imagining her in the space, his heart gave an odd, unrecognizable thump. It was sad to think of her by herself, but it was also heartwarming to know she had the strength to face the world alone, to make her own rules about her life and how she wanted to live it.

Some people would be downhearted about living here in the woods all alone. Berkley saw it as a way to do what she loved. He didn’t have a single doubt that she was grateful for this particular lifestyle—a home of her own near her beloved shelter.

Damn, he admired her.

A noise, like a low rumbling engine, drew him to the open doorway that led to the tidy living room. One small sofa, a padded chair, a couple of tables and a small TV on a stand filled the room.

He couldn’t stop grinning. The women sat at either end of the sofa.

On the far side, Betty slouched in her seat as if someone had knocked her out: short legs angled out before her, arms sprawled at her sides, head tipped back and sideways, and with her mouth open while she loudly snored. A chubby yellow dog lay next to her, also snoring.

Hero, who was on the sofa, too, had come awake, but fortunately not with any alarm. He just lifted his head and watched Lawson from his position beside Berkley at the opposite end.

She was conked out, but unlike Betty, Berkley was curled in her seat with her feet resting on the edge of the coffee table. She had one arm tucked close to her body, and the other slung over Hero’s neck. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks were flushed. She looked limp, messy and adorable.

As he stood there watching her, Hero seemed to smile, then he lumbered off the couch, which disturbed Berkley—but not the other dog or Betty.

They snored on.

Hero came to him for some pats while Berkley slowly blinked her eyes open. Seeing him left her disoriented for a moment, then she glanced around, spotted Betty and smiled.

What a picture she made. Soft and sleepy. Sweet. Strange things happened to his libido as he gazed at her, things that felt good in indefinable ways. All he knew was that he could have stood there watching her for hours and been content.

Lifting a finger to her lips, Berkley gave him the universal sign for quiet and gingerly left her seat, still without disturbing Betty.

When she took his hand and led him to the kitchen, he silently followed, as did Hero.

It struck him how natural it felt. It was his first time in her house, but it was as if they’d done this dozens of times. Smiled, touched, shared. Did she feel it, too?

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