“The door at the end leads out to the first of two yards,” I told him, keeping my focus on Scout, who leaned into my hand as I reached through the fence to scratch the back of his head. “We rotate the dogs as best we can through the day. Scout and a couple of the others can be left out for longer periods of time together because they get along really well, but they still need supervision when they’re in the yard together. Most of the dogs go outside by themselves.”
No response from the walking Neanderthal. Probably because he didn’t care.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and when I checked the screen, it was the school. “This is Remi.”
“Mom?”
“What’s up, buddy? Are you okay?”
“My stomach hurts. Can I come home?”
I glanced briefly at Archer, who was watching me with unreadable eyes underneath the brim of his hat. “When did it start hurting? You were fine this morning.”
“Uhhh . . .”
He paused just long enough that I rolled my eyes. “Is this because of your math test? Be honest, dude.”
Gavin let out a dramatic sigh. “What if Ifail?”
“You won’t fail the test. But just because you’re nervous about it doesn’t mean you can skip school. If you puke in class, I promise I’ll come get you.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Always here to help,” I said magnanimously. “Take a deep breath and do your best. That’s all I’ll ever ask of you—you know that, right?”
“And if my best is a C?”
“If your best is a C, then I’ll be the proudest mom in the world.”
“Fine.”
I smiled, tucking my chin down to my chest when he sighed. “Love you, bud.”
“Love you more.”
“Impossible.”
Archer was still watching me when I tucked my phone into my pocket. “My son,” I said briskly. “He’s ten and hates math tests. Not that I needed to tell you that or anything.”
God, it would have been so much better if he’d nodded or made some inane comment to put me out of my rambling misery, but instead he simply watched, those blue eyes taking in every inch of my face, which was currently holding all the blood in my entire body as it rushed to my cheeks.
Curse my fair skin.
I cleared my throat. “Anyway.”
I gave Scout one final pat and moved on to Daisy, across the aisle. She was a six-year-old shepherd mix with fluffy golden hair and droopy ears. When my hand went back into my pocket, she started dancing in circles, front paws immediately going up on the fence as she waited for her treat.
“Hey, Daisy girl,” I said. “You’re going out next, don’t worry. I know you need some exercise.”
The back of my neck tingled, the weight of Archer’s gaze heavy as he stood behind me and watched. We walked down the rest of the aisle, and he never reached through to pet any of the dogs.
I swear, I didn’t want to judge him, but if someone didn’t like dogs, I totally judged.
Wordlessly, Archer followed behind while I showed him the cat room, where we had about six kennels filled with cats needing new homes.
“Not very many in here.”
The sound of his voice after so much silence was jarring, and I blinked up at him in surprise.