Page 89 of Pulled Away

Maya got the best deal, making the pup cups. We rock, paper, scissored on who’d get to do it, and Maya walked away victorious.

“Okay, let me get to it.”

Just as I’m about to enter the kitchen, I pause, still unsettled by Carter’s comment, and notice them whispering. Ryan’s expression is tense and frustrated—clearly, he’s not pleased. Carter says something that makes Ryan shake his head firmly, and when Carter laughs, Ryan responds by not so playfully punching him on the shoulder.

“Poo on aisle ten,” Hannah sings, bustling into the kitchen carrying a tray of dirty glasses.

“Not again,” Aiden groans, making us laugh.

Yeah, rock, paper, scissors wasn’t his friend tonight. Trudging to the back door, he grabs the mop and bucket, shooting us a dirty look.

“If it’s any consolation, the last dog just left,” she calls to his back.

“That’s so gross and unsanitary.”

I smirk as I catch Piper’s eye-roll from across the kitchen. Cassie waltzed in shortly before we started serving food, dressed for a night out on the town. She tried taking charge of the kitchen, inserting herself wherever she could. We were having none of it, basically just ignoring her. Like an annoying fly. Maybe we wouldn’t have if she actually helped with anything, but…no, not even then.

“It’s not like we allowed any dogs into the kitchen,” Maya says, scowling at her.

Most people started leaving right after the raffle—which was a resounding success. I guess you can only be out so long before you need to get your pooch home.

I was brought to tears by the amount of prizes businesses from around the town donated. Turns out the woman I saw sitting next to Ryan at Frosty’s heads up the Westhill Business Owner Committee. When Bailey pitched the idea of businesses donating towards the raffle at one of their meetings, she took charge and ran with it, making it her mission to procure as many as she could.

I’ll have to remember to thank her.

Carter was the perfect showman, acting as the MC and doing the raffle draws. His cheeky suggestion of auctioning himself off for a date with the lucky winner was met with resounding cheers. And lots of gagging from Rose.

Grabbing the glasses from Hannah, I pack them into the industrial-sized dishwasher.

“I don’t know what Nathan sees in her. She’s a bitch.”

Shrugging, I grab the plate Rose’s holding out. “Whatever it is, it’s not her personality. That’s for sure.”

“It’s the boobs,” Piper says, joining us. “They’re huge. Men can look past anything for an enormous set of boobs.”

“Spot on,” Rose mutters, glaring at Cassie.

Straightening, I wipe some stray hairs from my face. “When did you two become so cynical?”

“Not cynical, babe. Realistic.”

“Here we go,” Kallan says, interrupting whatever Piper was about to say, handing me the donation box. He was in charge of taking donations and handing out tickets, and he took his job damn seriously, not allowing anyone else near the box.

I take it from him, my hands shaky with anticipation. All the tickets sold out, blowing my expectations out of the water, and whatever is in this box will just be the icing on the cake.

“Go on. Go check.”

Not having to be told twice, I grab the keys from Nathan, who’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat and spin on my heels, marching to his office. The urge to check it must be stamped across my whole body because chuckles follow me out of the kitchen.

Dropping down onto the chair, I rip the lid off and start counting. My heart beats faster with every note I tally, my mind morphing every note into a picture of an item I’ll buy for the rescue.

Every thought comes to a screeching halt, and I completely lose track of my count when I pick up the piece of paper nestled between the notes.

My breath leaves me in a rush when I comprehend the number of zeros printed on the cashier’s cheque shaking in my hands. This can’t be right. Frantically, I search for who it’s from, but there’s nothing. Just a blank space where the remitter’s name should be.

This has to be wrong. Who would drop an anonymous cheque for an absurd amount of money into a donation box?

A rustle has me looking up, and my eyes land on Ryan, leaning against the doorframe. And I just know.

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