Page 31 of Reckless Harmony

“Off my feet, Bea,” Stark said.

Bea didn’t move, just continued to pant happily and Rayna said, “She didn’t hear you. She’s almost completely deaf.”

“Christ, how old is she?” Stark said. Despite the annoyance she could hear in his voice, he was infinitely gentle when he reached down and nudged Bea’s shoulder. “Move, Bea.”

She stood obligingly, letting out a loud fart as she did so.

“Oh my God,” Stark said as the smell washed over both of them. “There is something seriously wrong with your dog, Ms. Abrams. Nothing healthy can make that smell.”

Despite herself, Rayna laughed. “She’s actually very healthy.”

“I don’t believe it,” Stark muttered. “Can we please get out of this hallway before your dog’s flatulence kills us both?”

“Such a drama queen,” she said but started walking again. She opened the door to her home gym/storage room and headed to the far side of the room. Large metal shelves were braced along one wall. Plastic bins filled with various dog and cat supplies, cans and small bags of both dog and cat food, toys, and empty litter boxes filled the shelves.

Larger bags of food and boxes of kitty litter were piled neatly on the floor, and she reached for a bin labeled ‘neonate’ supplies and pulled it from the shelf with a loud grunt.

She set it on the ground and searched past the cans of kitten milk replacement, bottles, and nipples for a small kitchen scale, half a dozen towels, and a few small soft blankets. She added food and water dishes, a flat of wet food and a bag of dry food to the pile before grabbing an empty litter box, a litter scoop, and a big box of kitty litter.

“Okay, this should get you started. I’ll also need you to fill out our foster form application and submit it. It’s on the website, but if you give me your phone number, I’ll text the link to you. I’ll be your point of contact for Molly and the babies. If there are any issues with Molly or her babies, text me immediately, it doesn’t matter what time it is.”

There was no reply, and she turned around to see Stark on the other side of the room, examining her gym equipment with a look of disgust on his face.

“Stark, are you listening to me?”

He reached out and poked at the single stack home gym she’d picked up for free. “Christ, was this thing made in the seventies?”

“It’s not that old,” she said defensively.

“It’s falling apart,” he said.

“It’s fine.”

He gave the machine a shake. The home gym rattled wildly, and when a screw fell off and rolled on the ground to hit Stark’s foot, he gave her a ‘told you so’ look that set her teeth on edge.

“It’s a death trap,” he said.

“You’re being a drama queen again.”

He studied the small rack of hand weights against the wall before examining her stationary bike. “This was definitely made in the seventies.”

“It still works,” she said.

“Does it?” He pushed at one pedal with his foot.

It snapped off and hit the floor with a thud. Bea wandered over and examined the pedal with interest as Stark stared at Rayna.

“You’re paying to fix that,” she said.

“Bill me,” he said. “I’ll have my accountant get right on it.”

He moved on to her ancient treadmill before she could think of a snarky reply. He turned it on and grimaced when the motor started with a loud squeal. The belt moved at a turtle’s pace, and when smoke started to seep from beneath it, Stark shut off the treadmill.

“It’s fine,” she said before he could say anything.

“The belt is smoking,” he said.

“It only does that for the first couple of minutes,” she said.

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