Chapter One
Katarina
“PUT EDGAR AND PAULINA over there.” I nod at Curtis, looking toward the line of cages on the ground to my left under the canopy, as I set up the donation box and straighten up the clipboards, adoption forms at the ready.
“What?” He cocks his head, holding a cage in each hand and squinting, shaking his head as he struggles to hear over all the barking.
“Over there!” I half shout, pointing where I want him to set down the cages containing two rescue wire-haired mutts that were surrendered to the shelter three weeks ago.
He nods and shuffles though the chaos as I direct the other three shelter volunteers. We are setting up our adoption booth at the summer Lumberjack Jamboree, which is the highpoint of the Thickwood, Colorado summer.
As I slip around the front of the table where we will take donations and applications for adoptions, I’m so distracted I catch my toe on one of the ropes securing the corner posts to the canopy, and fly headlong into Curtis—who is now carrying a jug of water to fill the animal’s bowls.
Cold water splashes into my face and the air.
“For Christ’s sake, Kat.” Curtis grabs my arm and tries to right me without falling over himself. “What is with you today? First you walk right into the tent pole…” He reaches up and pokes the bruise on my forehead, and I wince as I smack his hand away. “You drunk?”
“No,” I snap. “I’m not drunk. I don’t even drink, you know that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Maybe you need to start.”
“Maybe you need to start.” I mock back in a singsong, sarcastic tone, and he gives me a dirty look.
“You off your meds today, girl.” He screws up his face and walks away toward the lined-up cages, filling water bowls as he goes.
We’ve volunteered together at the shelter since I moved here. That was three years ago, when my dad took over the local luxury auto dealership, bought up a ton of real estate around town and transported our entire life—including me—from Denver to Thickwood. A Things changed after my mother divorced him and moved in with her Dominant to become a professional Dominatrix. I guess none of us saw that coming.
It’s all fine and good, she just didn’t have much room in her new life for me, so when Dad said let’s start over, I was along for the ride, and we ended up here in this mountain town in Colorado and quickly made ourselves right at home.
Truth is, I was sort of relieved when it finally all blew up. My parents had been so unhappy for so long. My dad worked; my mom spent. My dad wanted a family, my mom wanted a party.
I walk around to each of the cages, making sure they are clean, and give the Eldridge twins, Barbara and Brittany, a schedule on which dogs to walk and in what order.
“Just do the usual.” I take the ponytail band from my wrist and put my crazy blonde ringlets up into a messy bun as the temperature of the morning sun starts to make me warmer than is comfortable. “Walk them over on the hill. Make sure you pick up after them. We still have to follow the park rules.”
“Got it, boss lady.” They answer in unison, as they often do, and it’s still a little creepy to me. They walk away in step with each other, wearing matching outfits with their green Thickwood Rescue t-shirts tucked into the high elastic waistbands of their mom jeans.
They are in their sixties, have lived here all their lives and volunteered at the shelter for a couple decades. I’m not sure exactly what their situation is, but they are almost savant like, yet in many ways they act like pre-teens. Doesn’t matter, they are good workers and adore every animal that comes through the shelter, and their family donated a shit ton of money over the years.
I, on the other hand, took far too long deciding what I should wear today. Which annoyed the hell out of me this morning, after my third change of clothes. Why should I care?
I opted for a Thickwood Rescue tank top, a white denim mini-skirt and these new, bedazzled sort of flip flops.
Normally, at an adoption event I’d grab the first clean pair of jeans and a rescue t-shirt and not think twice.
It’s just another adoption booth. I’ve done them bunches of times over the years.
Today though, I know he’s going to be here.
I should be locked up for the thoughts I have about Miller ‘The Grip’ Graham. He’s the local Lumberjack Jamboree celebrity, and for some reason I don’t understand, my father hates him.
And I…God, I think I love him.
He’s everything I shouldn’t want. He’s rough. Lives in some crazy cabin in the woods. Barely speaks. It’s a small enough town and my dad has become somewhat of a prominent fixture, what with the luxury cars, the real estate and the fact that almost as soon as he moved here, he was invited to join the town council. If he and Miller are at loggerheads, I should steer about as clear as a town this size allows…