“Organized team activities.”
I nodded briskly. “I can work with that. If opportunities for additional hours come up, I’m willing to work with you on more. But we have open hours for people to show up to check out the dogs on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays, so I don’t want you here then.”
Before he could say anything, the phone rang again, and I answered that too.
“Remi, it’s Cass. I’m almost out of food and pads.”
“Already?”
“Hungry litter. They’re sweet, though. I’ll have updated pictures to you by tomorrow.”
“Great. You thought of some names?”
“Yeah, my kids went for cartoon characters on this group. We’ve got Minnie, Mickey, Donald, and Goofy. They’re already campaigning to keep Goofy.”
I smiled. “You going to become a foster fail on me already?”
“No,” she said on a laugh. “They’ll be just as excited about the next batch of puppies.”
My relieved exhale was loud. “Good. It would be hard to replace you.”
“No need for that. Just another bag of food and a box of pads, and I’m a happy girl.”
I snatched a Post-it from the stack next to my computer and scrawled out what she needed. “I’ll drop some off on my way home from work. Thanks for letting me know.”
The call that came in right after that was a quote to repaint the outside of the building, and the number he gave me made me sick to my stomach. “Okay, thank you. I’m going to have to talk to our owner before I make that decision.”
When I hung up, I braced my elbows on the surface of my desk and speared my hands in my hair. Ness wanted to know what I was doing differently today? Having a complete and utter fucking meltdown, that’s what.
“I noticed the paint peeling when I was outside. The whole exterior needs to be redone or you’ll start having issues with the siding.”
I kept staring down at the desk. “Observant of you. I’m fresh out of gold stars, unfortunately.”
I was on a roll today, sailing past my own personal record of bitchy retorts. Archer was quiet for a second, probably wondering just how hellish I’d make his life for the remaining forty-seven hours.
“That’s not a bad estimate,” he said. Something about his voice left my lungs feeling tight, like someone was squeezing them with a fist. “Maybe some of the money I have to pay can go towards that.”
It took me a moment to gather my words. A long moment, with many internal pep talks about why it was bad to say swear words to men who were mandated by a judge to be here.
I looked up, and based on the way his eyes darted around my head, my hair probably looked insane, but I really didn’t give a shit.
“The money you’re paying will cover the repairs in the outdoor area. The fence. The seating. The equipment. Every penny will go towards what was destroyed by theaccident. And once that’s done, we have a list of a dozen other things that need updated.” I held his gaze, no matter how squirmy it made me. “We have to work our asses off for every penny that comes in from donations. We are constantly asking and asking and asking for more because wealwaysneed more. But firstwe need food. We need to pay for medical care. We need to pay the few employees we have. We need puppy pads and flea shampoo and crates for our fosters. I have an online wish list that will never come close to being filled.
“I wish the money you were giving could cover all that, Archer, I really do. But it doesn’t matter what I wish.” My throat felt tight and achy, that familiar wave of anxiety crashing over my frame, just like it did every single day. “I know that you don’t want to be here, and I really don’t want you here either. I would have much rather taken a bigger check to pay for paint and a new roof and updated floors, and picked up the dog shit myself.”
He studied my face so intently that I almost flinched, but instead held myself perfectly still.
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
“Should I? You’re the one who had some beers and accidentally destroyed private property. Tell me why I should cut you any slack at all.”
The chiseled features on his face were so hard to read, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that brain of his.
“Okay.”
I blinked. “Okay, what?”
He stood up, and I fought the urge to fidget under his perusal. “Don’t go easy on me, Red.”