She ran to country music. Teagan thought that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, but something about the beat and the guitar and the occasional twang worked for Sabrina. Walker Hayes started in, singing about being fancy, and she picked up the pace, rounding the corner and watching the neighborhood morph from residential to commercial. It was a really nice transition, slow and easy. Northwood knew what it was doing when Jefferson Square was built. The sidewalk that was usually fairly populated, if not bustling, was empty now, the shops and restaurants mostly closed. There was a small coffee shop with its lights on and a few people milling about inside, but things were mostly quiet. She ran down the entire length of the block, then took a right, then a left, until she came upon the future Sweet Heaven location.
She stopped there, bent at the waist to catch her breath, and pushed her fingers into her side where a hitch had set in, reminding her that her body was annoyed at this treatment after so long sitting at a desk.
The building was nice. Not too big, not too small. Sweet Heaven, Inc., had purchased the entire building, but the actual Sweet Heaven shop would only take up half. The other half would be rented out until they got a handle on how successful the ice cream shop would be. That way, if they needed to expand, they could. Her mom was smart that way, didn’t mess around with having to move in order to increase business.
The sign was obnoxious. She saw that now, but only because she was looking at it through Adley’s eyes. It was huge, bright, lots of exclamation points. She wondered if Adley had seen it.
“I mean, I’d know if we hadn’t instilled the stupid let’s-not-talk-about-work rule.” She muttered it into the quiet of the morning, knowing that if they hadn’t agreed on that rule, they likely wouldn’t have spent any time together at all. When she tried to imagine not having met Adley at all, not having spent time with her, not kissing her, not being with her, not making her laugh, not looking deeply into those gorgeous dark eyes, her stomach flipped in a super not-fun way that didn’t help matters. At all.
The tears threatened again, and that just pissed her off. Why the hell was she crying over this? Over Adley? They didn’t know each other well—my fault, she thought as she straightened up to standing again. But…they could. Couldn’t they? Her gaze landed on the sign, on its exclamation points, and a lump took up residence in her throat.
“Probably not,” she whispered.
A sound reached her ears, interrupting her pity party. She cocked her head. A small sound. Kind of high-pitched and soft…a whine? She strained to hear it, followed it around the side of the building. The sun had broken over the horizon as she’d run, and a ray of it slashed at the industrial beige cinder block wall adjacent to the parking lot, where the construction crew had piled trash. Pieces of wood, cardboard, broken drywall and such made up a pile, and there she saw the source of the sound, curled up on an old, broken-down cardboard box and shaking like the proverbial leaf.
A very tiny, super dirty, way-too-skinny puppy.
“Oh my God.” The puppy looked up at her with the saddest brown eyes she’d ever seen. His little tail wagged subtly, as if he was afraid to hope that this human might help him. “What in the world are you doing here?” Sabrina squatted down and held her hand out so the puppy could sniff it. She knew enough not to make sudden moves at him or she’d terrify him even more than he already looked like he was. She moved a splintered two-by-four out of the way and sat down on the ground next to him, still holding out her hand and letting him sniff.
“How did you get out here, buddy? Did somebody dump you here?” As she sat, she scanned the area slowly. The rest of the pile, then the parking lot, looking for any other movement that might indicate another puppy or a mother dog, but she saw nothing. No stirring. No far-off whining or whimpers. Seemed the little guy was all alone.
She hadn’t been sitting there long when he decided to move, that she was a safe space, and he crawled up into her lap and curled into a ball. He was filthy and smelled like it. She saw a couple of fleas right away.
“You need a bath, little man,” she said quietly as she stroked his head. He was mostly white—well, dingy white—with some spots of light tan. His fur was wiry, and she surmised he was likely a terrier of some kind. Maybe. She didn’t know a ton about dogs. She loved them and always wanted one, but her constant travels made it impossible. She wasn’t cut out for a pet.
Which this little guy seemed to disagree with, as he sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Soon, he was twitching in his sleep. The sun came up fully and bathed them in warmth, and Sabrina let her eyes drift closed, too. She didn’t sleep heavily, but she rested for a while until traffic picked up and people began to populate the street.
When she stirred, the puppy lifted his little head up and looked at her with those eyes, and she was lost.
“Goddamn it,” she muttered as she stood and took him with her. In her arms, he seemed completely content, and when he swiped his little pink tongue along her chin, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Listen, you’ve already sealed the deal. I’m taking you home. You don’t have to work on my heart anymore.” She didn’t tell him she had no idea how she was going to do this, how she’d need to call the host of her Airbnb and beg for permission—which might include offering some extra money—but she’d deal with that later. “First things first, though. You stink, my little man. I see a bath in your very near future.”
Chapter Ten
If Adley saw another billboard or online ad or commercial on television for that damn Sweet Heaven ice cream shop, she was going to punch someone. It was barely eleven in the morning, and she’d already heard the jingle twice on the radio she had playing in the kitchen of the Scoop, and seen an ad go by as she scrolled Instagram. It wasn’t enough she was living with a constant bubbling panic that simmered in her stomach and made her worry about an impending ulcer. Now she had to be reminded that the possible nail in the proverbial coffin of her business was about to open up and wanted everybody to know it? Twenty-four hours a day?
Okay, that was an exaggeration, but still.
She was churning a new batch of Baby Bear for the day when her phone pinged in her back pocket. She didn’t even want to look. She’d slept crappily, woke up with a headache that wouldn’t leave her alone, and had to do books today. She sighed, fed up with the day already, and slid the phone out. A text from Sabrina.
“Oh, perfect.” She knew deep down that being irritated with Sabrina made no sense. She didn’t owe her anything. Her being a no-show last night was not an affront to Adley. They were not exclusive. Hell, they weren’t even dating. So Adley’s hurt was completely out of line, and she was well aware, but it was still there just the same. She thumbed the text and read.
Can you get away for a few minutes? I need your help.
Well. That was cryptic.
Mandy wouldn’t be in for another hour and they didn’t open until two, so yeah, she could get away. “Fine,” she sighed, then typed.