Page 29 of Hey, Daddy

I had a cat because they were so low maintenance.

I went from a three-sport, multiple extracurricular—FFA, choir, debate club—high school career to college. From college I went straight into working, and it was only recently that I was able to quit my 9-5 and focus on the mystery shopping and Amazon reviewing thing full-time.

“Okay, well just know if you ever need help with the dog, you’re going to have to ask Shasha,” she snickered.

Shasha hadn’t ever really been an animal person, either.

We’d just never had animals growing up, and that kind of extended into our adult years so he made up for it now with multiple dogs.

“I doubt I’ll need help,” I said.

We entered the shelter, and I wasn’t greeted by anybody.

“Uh oh,” Milena teased. “Strike one.”

I grinned at her and kept walking farther into the large, open space.

Dallas, Texas, boasted some fantastic animal shelters.

But this one was better than anything I could ever imagine.

When you walked in, the first thing you saw was the wall of cats that was on the far left side of the space. There was also a large room that had about twenty kittens playing with all kinds of toys.

“Awww,” I said sweetly.

That’s when my gaze caught movement to my left, and I saw a large man squatted down, a poop scooper in one hand, and atiny ball of fur on his left thigh which he was stroking with long, masculine fingers.

“Whoa,” Milena said.

Whoa was right.

All I could make out was the strong expanse of his back, salt and pepper hair, and a sliver of skin above his jeans—Wranglers.

Yum.

“Can I help you?”

I blinked, turning my back on the man playing with the kittens, and smiled at the woman that was…scowling at me?

“Uh, yes. I came to check out some of the dogs for adoption,” I replied.

“Oh.” Her gaze flicked to the room behind me, and my heart skittered a beat before I chanced a look.

And there, as if he had no clue about his sex appeal, was the man that I’d been doing my damndest to forget about—and failing miserably.

He volunteered at the shelter?

Jesus.

I didn’t realize that my fantasy of him could get any more extreme, but here I was.

“That’s Haze Hopkins,” she said. “He’s one of our longest standing volunteers.”

I quickly turned back around and said, “Is there an adoption application that I have to fill out?”

She looked reluctant to leave the viewing window, but did, showing me to the counter where there was a stack of adoption applications on the desk waiting for me.

She tossed me a pen from the top of the desk and said, “Fill that out.”

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