Page 21 of Where There's Smoke
“How long have you been a pack?” I asked.
“About five years. Sammy and I were in the academy the same year. Elliot was already a fancy-pants investigator, but we all clicked. My cousin had become a firefighter, and I decided I wanted to give it a shot as well.”
“Blaze is a force unto himself.” I giggled. “I see that runs in the family.”
Fitz smirked. “I'm definitely the cuter cousin, though, aren't I?” he asked, playfully batting his eyelashes. I snorted, rolling my eyes as the bottle warmer clicked off.
“You're something, all right.” Jeff chuckled gruffly from the table, making us all giggle.
“You’re just jealous of mystunninggood looks and beautiful ass.” Fitz proceeded to shake it at Jeff, who swatted him away.
“Youarean ass. I’ll give you that.”
I smiled to myself, listening to their banter as I prepared Dotty's bottle. She was fast asleep in my arms, but I knew that, soon enough, she would be wiggling awake for her food. The bottle warmer was going to make my life infinitely easier, especially with the late-night feeds.
Even though all the firefighters at the station had been nothing but welcoming, I was slightly reassured that the pack would be staying. After all, they were the ones I knew best, and I hardly knew them, so that was saying something.
“So, Samson was thinking that after our shift, we should take a break, grab some lunch, and go see how all your rescues are doing.”
I turned to Fitz, a shocked smile on my face. “Really? That would be amazing. I've been so worried about them, and I think I'm annoying the shelters with how often I'm texting them.”
He chuckled. “We know. We got a phone call from them, but I convinced them that letting you visit for a few hours would help reduce your worry.”
“Oh, crap, really? Ugh, I'm just…yeah.” I nodded. It definitely would.
Honestly, I probably would still be texting them a lot. What could I say? I cared about my rescues. And I’d never had them out of sight for so long. Getting to visit them…well, it appeared I had another thing to be grateful to the pack for.
“This place is nice,” Elliot said, looking around with a discerning gaze. “Not as nice as your place, though.”
My face heated at his praise. There wasn’t much I was proud of, but my little shelter had been one of them. It was still a freshwound, and behind the pride lay the pain of loss. I really didn’t know how I was supposed to get a new building.
Then again, Elliot couldn’t really say much, as he had only seen the burned-out husk of my building, instead of it in its full glory.
When Fitz had knocked on my door earlier, I had expected to see him and Samson, but Elliott was standing there with them, jacket on, ready to go.
I’d assumed Elliott would rather jump off a bridge than be in my vicinity.
Apparently not.
“Hello, everyone,” the shelter director greeted, holding out a hand to direct us to the kennels. “You can see your babies are all doing well. Do you want to take them out for a walk? We were about to start doing the rounds for walks, so you taking them would actually be a big help.”
Perking up, I walked over to one of the kennels, sticking my fingers through the holes and scratching one of the stray dogs on the nose. He whined happily, wanting out of the kennel.
“We’d love to.” It occurred to me that I’d spoken for the guys. “Unless you don’t want to?”
Samson shook his head, this towering hulk who barely fit inside this tiny building. “Of course we want to. Who am I taking?”
“Well, big guy, you can have the Newfoundland. He won’t pull you around like everyone else.”
The director got the massive dog out of the kennel, securing a leash around its shelter collar and handing it to Samson. The dog jumped on him, licking and barking with excitement.
Laughing at the scene, I helped get the other dogs ready for their walk. Each of us ended up with a handful, and then we were off like a shot, the animals desperate to stretch their legs. There was a park across the street, and we were told to take them there.
“These guys are the sweetest,” Fitz said as he led the boxer around the park.
“Most of the larger breeds are really gentle, I find,” I said as I watched them. Elliot had Monty, a sweet older yellow lab, and his girlfriend, Molly, a russet lab, on twin leads, while Samson had three smaller dogs and was doing his best to keep them in control, in addition to the massive Newfoundland. The smaller ones had a tendency to cause chaos, in my experience.
“You know, boss, we should get the guys to come walk these guys over the next few weeks to make sure they get the exercise they need. Plus, it's great exercise for us,” Samson said, glancing at Elliot, who looked thoughtful.
