Page 5 of Gideon

A very efficient lady proceeded to tell me that Mr. Sinclair had already paid for it and I didn’t owe any money.

Sinclair?As in Gideon Sinclair? Of course, it had to be even if I didn’t understand why.

I decided to go to work. Well, I had no choice, but it would take my mind off other things.

I caught the bus and listened patiently as Mrs. Chandler updated me on all the happenings with her seven grandchildren. I listened because she was kind. She was also lonely because her son-in-law’s company had posted them all to Hong-Kong and while her daughter visited when she could, which was about once every two years, she had no other relatives.

She, and her daughter, hoped they would be back soon.

I was so glad it was Friday. I usually ate my lunch at work, then got changed into my puppy clothes, as I called them,which were basically old jeans that it didn’t matter if they got slobber all over.

I was tired, but all I needed to do was sit down and cuddle my four-legged friends at Four Paws Animal Shelter where I volunteered twice a week. The staff were used to finding me asleep in the middle of a puppy pile and I was sure this Friday would be no different.

Work was crazy. Emily had called out sick, and while we were still on the legal side of the staff versus children ratio, it meant none of my needy kids got me to themselves, which I hated.

I did better with one-on-one scenarios than large groups, and I was looking into courses that might make me able to get a job as a TA in a school. The problem was always the same though. I wasn’t physically capable of working the hours I needed to pay my rent or the extra study hours I would need, so I was stuck. I finally dragged myself outside after barely taking the time to eat my sandwich and stopped.

Right there, in the parking lot, was a huge monster car that I imagined cost more than most people’s houses, but it wasn’t the car that got my attention. It was the man casually leaning against the door.

Gideon.

He was also holding flowers.

And then I remembered I had planned to call him and thank him for the lock, but my squirrel brain had decided it needed to focus on getting to work, then work itself. I was sure I would have remembered at some point.Maybe.

Not that I knew which question to ask first.What are you doing here?battled withWhy did you pay for a new door lock, until my tongue was tied with indecision. So, of course, thefirst words out of my mouth when I walked up to him were, “I’m sorry, but I have to go play with Poppy.”

He never even blinked, just took my bag, settled me comfortably in the car seat—even fastening the seatbelt—then got in the front himself and drove away. My statement hung between us until he spoke.

“How about you tell me who Poppy is?”

So I did. For some crazy reason, it seemed important that he knew. “She’s a golden retriever that spent years in a cage in a puppy mill, and no-one ever wants old dogs. I mean, we don’t exactly play,” I clarified. “More cuddle.”

“Which rescue?” he said calmly. And I was so stunned it took me a moment to answer. “Four Paws. It’s next to Bright Sparks. The garage on North Florida Ave,” I added.

“I know it,” he said and turned left, which I knew was the correct way. And the fact that he’d done it without question made my heartbeat settle.

“Thank you for taking me home and for the door. I should have started with that.” But my conversations always seemed to get derailed. I’d start with talking about a book a child had been able to tell me the correct colors in and end up talking about fire alarm drills because her daddy had gotten her a red firetruck for her birthday, because her brother had one and wasn’t that unfair? I was lucky because my manager liked talking about how as a society we were perpetuating sexism without even realizing it.

“Wanna tell me why you’re going to Four Paws today when you’re clearly still exhausted?” Gideon asked quietly. I glanced at him suspiciously, but I hadn’t detected any criticism. Which made for a change. All my decisions seemed to upset someone.

“Because Michael is at work, and Saturday is too busy for quiet cuddles.” I realized belatedly Gideon wouldn’t know who Michael was, so I explained. “Michael is one of their volunteers but works full time like most people and won’t be in until much later. The shelter is busy Saturdays, so they don’t like humans.”

No, that wasn’t right either.Sometimes my explanations didn’t even make sense to me.

“I mean to sleep with the dogs.”

There was a small silence and then he asked, “You sleep with them? Overnight?” His voice was dark and sent shivers up my arms and other places that probably shouldn’t be allowed, and I shook my head.

“No, just Friday afternoon and Sunday morning. Before the people come,” I added helpfully.

“And when do you get proper rest?”

I hesitated. It was a valid question, I supposed. Not that I understood why he was asking. “Why do you care?” Then I groaned because that was rude. He’d bought me flowers and a new lock and the whole thing was just really odd. Or maybe it wasn’t odd at all.

He smiled. “I’m going to take you for cuddles. You get one hour. After that, I’m going to take you for something to eat.”

“I can’t.”

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