A Thankful Heart (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 2) Page 7

  “I suppose if you could talk, we wouldn’t need a donation to save the rescue. We would go on TV and get the money ourselves.”

  But since they couldn’t, it meant she needed to rewrite the proposal in a little over a day and a half. Teaching the animals to talk might be easier.

  Okay, not really, but that was how impossible the rewrite felt right now.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. Her brother and her sister lived on the East Coast. It wasn’t that late, but Dakota needed help they couldn’t give long distance.

  Who could she ask?

  Her coworker Rosie was a professional writer, but she had another television script due and had cut back her shifts at the chocolate shop to only one day a week.

  Think.

  Kelly had been working extra shifts at the animal hospital due to a virus running rampant. She needed a night at Grey’s for a CIBTM meeting, nothing else.

  There had to be someone. Dakota rubbed her aching forehead.

  Who?

  Wait a minute. Walt would know. He always gave the best advice. She grabbed her phone off the table to text him.

  Dakota: Lori just left. Need to talk. Can I come over, please?

  Bryce being at the house shouldn’t stop her from going over there. He’d apologized for the things he’d said; she’d accepted his apology. End of story.

  So what if she’d been thinking about his smile, his eyes, and the way he’d apologized this afternoon. That didn’t mean anything other than, as Portia had said, she might have a crush—an itty-bitty one—on him.

  Dakota’s cell phone beeped.

  Walt: Not going anywhere. Come over.

  She put Pierre in his cage on the dining room table. “I’ll be back, sweetie.”

  Pierre had been left in a cage when his family moved out of their house. The new owners had called animal control, who then asked the rescue to take the abandoned rat. Being at the rescue had stressed out Pierre so she’d taken him home with her. He was now thriving at her house, even though she’d never fostered a rat.

  The dogs went to their nearby crates. They knew the routine.

  Warmth spread through Dakota. She loved these silly dogs.

  Scout was almost seven years old and ready for adoption, but Rascal, only nine months old, needed more training. He had more energy than obedience skills, but that could be said of many puppies. He was big, but gentle, with the sweetest disposition.

  “Both of you have been so good, and you’ve been in your crates so much the last few days, I’ll let you stay out while I’m gone.” She crated them when she wasn’t home and when she went to bed. “I won’t be long.”

  Scout curled up on a large dog pillow beneath Pierre’s cage. The Pekinese-Pomeranian mix had surprisingly bonded with the Dumbo rat. The two spent as much time together as they could, but Pierre kept his distance from Rascal. That proved he was one smart rat.

  The puppy sniffed along the edges of the floor. She had no idea what he smelled since she swept and mopped the floor daily. But who knew what that dog was thinking?

  “When I get back, we can play until bedtime.”

  She blew each a kiss and then pulled the gate across the doorway to the dining room and secured it in place.

  Dakota walked to Walt’s house, which was two blocks away. Street lamps illuminated the road and sidewalk. The cold nipped at her cheeks so she looped her scarf, knitted by her sister, around her neck another time. Her hands stayed warm in the fleece-lined gloves her brother had given to her for Christmas last year.

  Walt’s porch light was on, but the curtains were drawn.

  She knocked.

  Bryce opened the front door. He was wearing the same brown pants as shoes as earlier, but now she saw his long-sleeved plaid shirt.

  Handsome if you like the hipster-inspired style. She had to admit Bryce pulled off the look.

  “My dad said you were coming over, but that was quick.”

  “I don’t live far.”

  He motioned her inside. “Please, come in.”

  As soon as she stepped inside, warmth enveloped her from the combination of forced-air heating and crackling logs in the fireplace. Not wanting to sweat, she removed her jacket, hat, scarf, and gloves.

  “I’ll take those,” Bryce offered.

  She appreciated his manners.

  The scent of basil and tomatoes hung on the air. Someone must have dropped off an Italian dish for dinner.

  Walt sat in his recliner in the living room, so she walked over there.

  Bryce’s soap-and-water scent tickled her nose. His body heat made the warm temperature in the room rise. He must be right behind her.

  Dakota sat on the couch. “Sorry to bother you.”

  Walt was in his recliner. “It’s always good to see you.”

  “Would you like something to drink?” Bryce asked.

  She leaned back against a throw pillow. “No, thanks.”

  He sat on the couch.

  A little too close if she was being honest. Her pulse spurted.

  No big deal. There wasn’t any other place for him to sit except the floor. Maybe she should move down there.

  “What’s going on?” Walt asked in that warm tone of his. “You said Lori had just left.”

  Dakota told them about her conversation with Lori, including the director’s comments about the original Home for the Holidays plan. “The key to my first proposal was making foster to adopt an official program at the rescue. That gives adopters a trial period to make sure the placement is a good fit for all. The success of the program also hinged on having two months to publicize and hold adoption events. But Thanksgiving is less than a month away.”

  Walt nodded. “Lori’s sending mixed messages.”

  “Or seeing dollar signs,” Bryce said.

  “I don’t know what to think,” Dakota admitted. “Lori said the same adoption standards and approval process would remain in place. She also admitted the shelter is struggling financially.”

  “How’d you leave it?” Walt asked Dakota.

  “Lori said she’d be in touch after she talks to the benefactor’s attorney about my concerns.”

  “At least you didn’t have to decide right then,” Walt said.

  Thank goodness, because Dakota wasn’t sure what she would have done.

  “I’m worried about staff being laid off and the animals.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “I’m not even sure what I want the benefactor to say about the changes we want. I wish this would all just go away and the building would go back to normal.”

  Bryce reached across the couch and touched her arm. “It’ll work out.”

  His touch was nothing more than a gesture of kindness, but she had to force herself not to scoot closer. She was like some of the dogs at the rescue. She preferred to be part of a pack, not on her own.

  “Whiskers and Paw Pals has been struggling financially,” Walt said.

  “It’s the nature of animal rescue.” But a dark thought kept surfacing. One that caused an iron grip to squeeze the air out of her lungs. “But what if the benefactor agrees to change the number of adoptions needed? What if I take this on and fail? I’d cause the rescue to close and everyone to be laid off.”

  Bryce squeezed. “If that happens, and that’s a big if, you wouldn’t be the one to blame. You are not responsible.”

  “He’s correct.” Walt’s gaze darkened. “This wouldn’t be your fault.”

  Dakota nodded. She wanted to believe that. “Lori asked me to put together an adoption event for this weekend just in case.”

  “That sounds like a lot to do given it’s Wednesday night,” Bryce said.

  “I’ve set up a drive with less time. We have volunteers to help. And whether we’re going for the donation or not, the animals deserve loving homes. That’s been my priority since I started doing this, and I’ll keep trying to find them homes.”

  “Not trying would be failing. Giving this a shot, no matter the outcome, means you�
�ve won.” Walt’s confidence in her was stronger than her own. “You can do whatever you set your mind to do.”

  Dakota nodded, not trusting her own voice. She wished she believed that. With so many counting on her, she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, but everything seemed to take her longer to do than everyone else. She was scared she would mess up.

  Bryce’s hand was still on her arm. She had no idea why, but his touch comforted.

  “Lori also wants me to turn in a revised proposal by ten o’clock on Friday morning,” Dakota said.

  “The first one took you a long time to write. Can you have the proposal revised by then and plan an adoption event at the same time?” Walt asked.

  That was the question of the day. Dakota thought for a moment. “I’m not worried about the event, but I think… No, I’m going to need help with the report. I just don’t know who to ask.”

  Walt rubbed his chin. “I do.”

  Relief flooded her. The tension in her shoulders loosened. Walt never let her down. “Who?”

  “Bryce.”

  “Me?” he asked.

  “You’re working on a proposal right now. You have experience.”

  Dakota remembered what Bryce had said earlier at the chocolate shop.

  I have to prepare a proposal I’ll be turning in when I get back to Seattle.

  But still…Bryce Grayson was the last person she wanted to help her. Few outside her family knew about her reading difficulties. Her mother’s reaction and disbelief over the diagnosis had made Dakota not want to tell another soul. Though Dakota had a feeling her closest friends had guessed what was going on.

  “A design proposal,” he countered.

  Walt waved off his concern as if he were swatting a fly. “A proposal is a proposal.”

  Not in this case, but Dakota didn’t want to hurt Walt’s feelings. He was only trying to help. “I understand why you’re suggesting Bryce, but he’s busy with you and his own work. He doesn’t have time.”

  “She’s right. I don’t,” Bryce said.

  “We’re talking a day’s worth of work,” Walt countered. “Most likely not even that since Dakota works.”

  “I don’t want to put anyone out. Don’t worry. I’ll find someone who has time.”

  Walt slanted another look at Bryce. “You don’t have much time to find someone.”

  “I know. I’ll email our volunteer loop.” Panic rising, she knew this was the perfect time to say goodnight. She didn’t want to be a source of conflict between father and son. Dakota stood. “Thanks for listening. I need to get home to the fur babies.”

  Walt glared at his son. “You’re really not going to help her?”

  “Dad—”

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She saw her things on a hat tree near the door. “I’ll show myself out.”

  Bryce stood. “I didn’t see a car out front. Where did you park?”

  “I walked.”

  “I’ll drive you home.”

  “He’s got time to do that,” Walt muttered.

  She bit back a laugh. “It’s not far.”

  “It’s dark,” Bryce said.

  She looked at Walt, who seemed to be watching the exchange with interest, but he only shrugged. Some help he was.

  “This isn’t Seattle,” she explained. “Marietta is a safe town, and I live only two blocks away.”

  “A lot can happen in two blocks,” Bryce said.

  She looked at Walt. “Talk some sense into your son.”

  “It’s cold outside, and you’ve had a long day. I have to side with Bryce on this one.” Walt’s words surprised her. “Let my son drive you home. I’ll be fine on my own until he gets back.”

  “I didn’t expect this.” She looked at both Grayson men. “Two against one, huh?”

  Bryce nodded once. So did Walt.

  “Looks like this is a battle I’m not going to win.” She blew out a breath. “You can drive me home.”

  Even if doing so is totally unnecessary.

  Dakota had to admit his chivalry touched her. She was a tad flattered, too. She’d been sending off a stay-away-from-me vibe for so long, men rarely noticed she was a woman these days. She missed the flirtatious glances, smiles, and compliments. Not enough to start dating again, but being driven home might be a nice change.

  Even if Bryce Grayson was the one doing the driving.

  Chapter Six

  A few minutes later, Bryce pulled his dad’s truck to the curb in front of Dakota’s two-story house. The street was well lit and her porchlight was on, but driving her the two blocks was the right thing to do.

  The way her lip quivered at his dad’s house had made Bryce reach out to her. An instinctive show of support, but his leaving his hand on her arm so long had been a conscious move. He’d liked touching her, but he wouldn’t do that now.

  Even if a part of him wanted to.

  The last thing he needed was to find himself forced into helping her with the proposal or something else based on the way his dad kept volunteering him for tasks. What was the big deal about the proposal anyway? She could handle this on her own or find someone else who wanted to help.

  He didn’t.

  Being around Dakota put him on edge. Made him say the wrong things. Had him touching her when he shouldn’t.

  The best course of action was to avoid her. That wouldn’t be too difficult, even though Marietta was a small town.

  He set the parking brake. “Thanks for being a good sport about not walking home.”

  “Thank you for the ride,” Dakota said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I appreciate you and your father’s concern over my safety.”

  “Even if you believe our concern is misplaced.”

  She unbuckled her seatbelt. “You said it, not me.”

  Touché.

  The style of her house caught his eye. “Your house has a Victorian influence.”

  “The architect in you is coming out.”

  “What can I say? A few of my favorite designs have been remodels. I have a soft spot for old houses.”

  “Me, too, especially for this one.” The streetlamp cast shadows on her pretty face. “The house was Victorian, but decades of remodeling by various owners, including my great aunt and uncle, took away or hid those features.”

  He took a closer look at the home. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Not from the outside, but inside, you can determine the decade a room was remodeled.”

  “Seriously?”

  “It’s like living in an interior design through the twentieth century exhibit.” Dakota half-laughed. “I never noticed when I was a kid, but it’s impossible to miss now. We’re slowly updating the house and hope to add back some of that Victorian charm and character.”

  One of her words stuck out. Bryce had to ask. “We?”

  “My great aunt and uncle bought this house in the 1980s, and she left it to me, but my brother and sister help me with remodeling projects when they visit. They both live out of state.”

  “That’s nice of them.”

  “We have fun.” Wistfulness filled Dakota’s gaze. “When I was growing up, my two siblings and I would spend a couple of weeks each summer here. Such fond memories.”

  “Is that why you live in Marietta?”

  “Aunt Alice is the main reason I moved here. She needed a housemate, and I needed a place to live.”

  He wanted to know more. “What’s another reason?”

  “I was a little kid when I decided to, as my great aunt used to say, ‘put down roots’ here, but I came to love the town after I moved here as an adult. I guess I’m a small-town girl at heart. When you find the place you belong, you know it.” She sounded content. “I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”

  The city of Marietta must put something in the water to brainwash people to stay. “I feel the same way about Seattle.”

  “You just know, right?”

  He nodded. Except where he lived was due more to college and findin
g a job there.

  “This house needs a ton of work, but I can visualize the end result,” Dakota continued. “My great aunt’s been gone for three years, but the remodeling is going slow. Projects happen one at a time and not regularly. Still, I’m making a little progress.”

  Dakota would make faster progress if she hired his dad. Or maybe his dad was volunteering here, too. Nothing would surprise Bryce at this point. “What have you done so far?”

  “Ripped out the carpeting to expose the hardwood floors. Updated some of the older plumbing and wiring. Installed new windows. Removed wallpaper and painted.”

  “Some of those are expensive updates.”

  “I hire out the hard stuff or anything that needs a permit.”

  Interesting. Maybe his dad had been involved with some of the projects.

  “But I do what I can myself or with my brother and sister’s help,” she continued. “My guilty pleasure is watching home improvement shows.”

  “We have something in common.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “I’ve got to wonder what future generations will think of the subway tile, gray paint, and flooring used in houses today.”

  “Better than avocado green and harvest gold.” She opened the passenger door. “I should let you get back to your father.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” Bryce didn’t want to say goodnight. Not yet.

  “This isn’t Seattle.”

  “I know.” He got out of his truck and met her on the sidewalk. “But if Marietta didn’t have any crime, there wouldn’t be a police department.”

  She narrowed her gaze. “Is everyone who lives in a big city this paranoid?”

  “Not paranoid. Cautious.”

  Bryce followed her up the steps. The wood creaked beneath his feet. Paint was peeling, but the structure looked solid. He’d love to see the inside, but his father was waiting at home.

  The porchlight bathed Dakota in a soft glow. Beautiful.

  She looked up at him. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  “Anytime.” And surprisingly, he meant it. “Though I doubt you’ll take me up on it again.”

  Dakota raised her chin. “You never know.”

  No, you don’t.

  What Bryce knew was he wanted to kiss her. He didn’t know Dakota, but something about her appealed to him in a way he’d never felt. She captivated him.