Vicki Thompson – Rescuing Christmas: Holiday Haven / Home for Christmas / A Puppy for Will (страница 10)
“Might as well give you my hat, too.” He took it off and handed it to her.
“Be right back.” She hurried into the octagonal space that mirrored the one in the Kitty Condo, except this one was bigger and had one whole wall devoted to leashes. Two raised dog beds plus food and water dishes sat in a corner, waiting until the mopping was finished to be put back in their rightful places.
Tansy hung Ben’s coat and hat on a hook next to where she’d left her own parka. Before she walked away, she held the soft sheepskin to her nose and inhaled. Ahhh.
Visually he was a beautiful man, but she’d always been sensitive to scent. A man could look like a Greek god, but if he didn’t appeal to her nose, she wasn’t attracted to him. Ben passed the scent test with Max, apparently, but he passed it with her, too.
Grabbing another mop from the storeroom, she headed back into the flooded area. Moments later they were working side by side as they attacked the remaining puddles.
He mopped with long, sure strokes. “When did you find the leak?”
“This morning when we opened up.” She resisted the urge to watch him instead of working. Concentrating on the floor was a challenge when the alternative was ogling the shift of his muscles as he wielded the mop. “When Rose reported it, we didn’t think it was too bad, but in the afternoon, when it rained harder, the leak got worse.” She glanced up at the stained ceiling. “The plastic seems to be holding the water at bay for now, but I’ve asked a roofer to come out tomorrow and give us an estimate.”
“Insurance?”
“We have it, but last year I raised the deductible to lower our monthly bill and help keep us in the black. Obviously that was a mistake.”
“Do you have enough to pay the deductible?”
She sighed. “No, we don’t. And I can’t dip into the money earmarked for the second Kitty Condo. We’ve almost hit our goal, which the station will announce very soon, and donors will expect to see the building go up.”
“And I guess you can’t suddenly announce another fund-raiser for the roof.”
“It’s Christmas, and people have already been more than generous. I can’t go back to them again so soon. This is just a bit of bad luck. I’ll figure something out.”
She just had no idea what that could be. What if she couldn’t find the money? What if the shelter went bankrupt, the animals became homeless…and it was all her fault?
“I’m sure you will. I just wish I could help.”
She couldn’t ask for what she really needed—to be held. In her fantasy, he’d put down the mop, wrap her in his strong arms and cradle her against his chest while he smoothed her hair and told her everything would be all right.
“You did help,” she said. “You took some great pictures that are making our Facebook page and website shine. I’ve had so many compliments on those photos, Ben. Contributions through Facebook and the site for the Kitty Condo are definitely ahead of where they were before I added your pictures.”
“Good.”
From the other side of the wall, Bailey whined and shoved his nose against the mesh.
“Almost done, Bailey.”
“Yeah,” Ben said. “I think we’ve got it handled. If you’ll take the mops, I’ll empty the bucket.”
“Thanks. We’ll need to move those beds and their food and water dishes back in here before we transfer the dogs.”
“No problem.” He sounded cheerful, as if he might even be having a good time.
They were finally able to return Bailey and Nugget to their rightful spot, and Ben was a hands-on helper, petting all the dogs and talking to them as if they were his buddies. The husky, Yukon, seemed especially taken with Ben, but all of them responded with wagging tails and doggie smiles.
The longer Tansy observed Ben’s behavior at the shelter, the more she became convinced that all Ben needed was a chance to hang around animals for a while and get past his fear of becoming attached. He might be a lot tougher about such things than he gave himself credit for.
Ben was in an excellent mood as they put on their coats and headed into the misty night air. “Here’s my thought,” he said. “I’ll unload the first cat tree while you open up the Kitty Condo. Once we’ve got them in place, I’ll take you to dinner.”
“All of that sounds good except the last part.”
He paused on the sidewalk and stared at her. “You’re refusing my dinner invitation? I thought we’d signed a peace treaty.”
“We have, but I don’t think it’s fair for the guy who brought over two cat trees and helped me mop the floor to also buy me dinner. I have some homemade veggie soup and a loaf of homemade bread at my house. Why don’t you come over?”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
She caught her breath. She’d been doing fine, keeping her balance and congratulating herself on how well this friendship thing was working, until he smiled. Just like that, she became a molten mass of hormones. And she’d just invited him to share an intimate dinner in the privacy of her home. What had she been thinking?
BEN HADN’T EXPECTED his dinner invitation to become something even cozier than a shared table at a restaurant. He’d taken a chance offering that, but she’d had a tough day and it had seemed like the right gesture. A friendly thing to do.
Sharing a meal in her house was riskier, and for a brief moment, fear of that type of intimacy had made him hesitate. Then he’d decided it wasn’t a romantic gesture on her part. She wasn’t a temporary fling kind of woman, and she’d definitely avoid getting involved with a guy who’d declared he wouldn’t be adopting any animals.
They were friends, nothing more. He kept that firmly in mind as she exclaimed over the beauty of the cat trees he’d bought. Her appreciation felt great after all the time he’d spent agonizing over which to buy. She continued to rave about them as he carried each one into its designated space.
Anyone listening to her would have thought he’d brought her diamonds. Though he couldn’t imagine her getting this excited about mere jewelry. In fact, she’d probably hock it and put the money toward something for the animals.
When the second cat tree was settled in the portable building, they stood together and watched the cats adapt to their new climbing and scratching structure. Even though the cats had been through tough times, they were recovering their natural instinct to have fun. A few held back, but within minutes the carpet-covered towers were play central.
Ben laughed as a black cat chased a tabby in, out and around the tower. Then they reversed roles and the tabby became the aggressor until a calico joined in, making a three-way game of it.
“Wish I’d brought my camera.”
“I think that all the time, but even when I do remember to bring my camera, the results aren’t as good as yours.” Tansy stood beside him, her expression animated, her eyes bright with pleasure. She’d left her parka on, but it was unzipped.
He was resigned to having her as a friend and nothing more, so he shouldn’t notice how her red turtleneck sweater hugged her breasts. But he did. He shouldn’t have watched her during the mopping session, either, but he had. The fit of her jeans had affected the fit of his.
He wasn’t sure how he’d deal with his response to her when they were tucked inside her little blue Victorian house. He’d have to leave early if he found himself wanting to act on his feelings.
For now, though, he chose to make conversation and pretend that he could ignore the urge to kiss her.
“I really can teach you how to take good pictures,” he said. “It’s not that tricky.”
She glanced over at him. “I’m not sure I believe you. Some people are talented in one thing and some in another. I have an affinity for animals. You’re a genius with a camera.”
“Thanks for boosting my ego, but I’m no genius, Tansy. It’s a skill like any other. It can be learned.”
“I’m sure it can, but those who are gifted will always do a better job than those who aren’t. I know my limits.” She paused, her gaze tentative, her body language hesitant. “Maybe you would…no, that’s asking too much.” She looked away.
“You can’t leave me dangling like that. Tell me what you started to say.”
“Okay, but it’s fine if you say no. We’ll still be friends.”
“Would you consider volunteering to be our official photographer?”
His pulse leaped. Volunteering to take pictures for the shelter would mean he’d see her on a regular basis. His heart wanted to, but his brain said it was a bad idea. “It’s a thought.”
“Never mind. It would be an imposition. I’d offer to pay you, but as you know, money’s in short supply.”
“I didn’t say I
“But you didn’t jump at the idea, either. I’m sure it’s a lot to ask.”
It was, but not for the reason she thought. He was already becoming too attached to the shelter and to her. And that led only to pain. Yet refusing to help because he was conflicted about their relationship seemed petty, especially when he was fascinated by the kaleidoscope of cats arranging and rearranging themselves.
He’d had fun capturing the changing expressions on the faces of the dogs. But his photographer’s soul belonged to the cats. They were art in motion, a feline version of Cirque du Soleil. They begged to be photographed, and good pictures would go far to getting them new homes. Fortunately, it wouldn’t take any emotional involvement on his part. He was a professional; he knew how to keep his distance from his subjects.