Ruff start, p.1
Ruff Start, page 1
Ruff Start
A Friends of Gaynor Beach Animal Rescue Romance
Roan Rosser
Rainbow Dog Books
Copyright © 2024 by Roan Rosser
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Poor Little Puppy
2. From Terror to Flirt in 30 Seconds
3. Hot for Volunteer
4. Dreadcipation
5. I'm a Professional, Dang It
6. The Sheepdog
7. Guilty as Charged
8. Always be Prepared to Visit the Beach
9. Bookstore Shenanegans
10. Beach Bum
11. Feel-Good Threats
12. Meet Leon
13. When a Plan Goes Right
14. Forced to Confront Feelings
15. It's a Date
16. Too Many Princesses
17. Wait, is this a date?
18. You're a Sucker
19. Moment of Truth
20. The Dog Story
21. Netflix and Chill
22. And Then He Left!
23. Warm Fuzzies
24. Eggplant Emoji is for Dick
25. Emoji Fluent
26. Mural Ideas
27. Eggplant Emoji ;)
28. Naughty Boy
29. Bedroom Funtimes
30. Drag Show Night
31. Puppy Steps
32. Epilogue
Also By Roan Rosser
About the Author
Chapter one
Poor Little Puppy
Neil, 3 Years ago
School had been extra rough today, so when I got home and saw our cans overturned and trash scattered everywhere, I almost burst into tears. I shrugged off my backpack and dropped it, where it landed with a thud.
A tiny little white snout poked out of the shadows inside the trash can, letting out a whine. I froze, halfway bent over to pick the can up. Soulful brown eyes stared up at me.
Was that a dog?
Moving slowly, I backed away and crouched by my backpack. The dog’s eyes never left mine as I fished out my leftover half sandwich from lunch. I tore off a little corner of bread and tossed it toward her.
The dog popped out to scarf down the treat, then vanished back into the dark. I tossed a piece of cheese, this one a tiny bit closer to me. I repeated this for a bit, eventually coaxing the dog all the way out of the trash can.
It was a tiny white dog with big triangle ears sticking up from her head and long white fur, currently so matted and tangled that it looked like she had dreadlocks. The little thing couldn’t weigh more than five pounds if it were healthy, which this one clearly wasn’t, making her look like a bobble toy with an oversized head. She didn’t wear a collar, but she must have been someone’s pet because, after the sixth or seventh piece of cheese, she came up to me, tail wagging, and gave me puppy dog eyes, made to look even bigger by her emaciated state.
I snagged her by the scruff and cuddled her to my chest. She fought me a little but was too weak to do more than squirm—poor little thing.
My bad day took on a new perspective. Bullies at school. Failing a test. Nothing compared to the last few weeks this little thing had been through, starving and homeless. I was a poor student, but I couldn’t abandon her like everyone else had.
Chapter two
From Terror to Flirt in 30 Seconds
Sawyer
“Sawyer, you’re ready.” My therapist, Ms. Lozano, looked at me over her steepled fingers.
“But, but…” I sputtered, my hands shaking. I twisted them in my lap. “This is too big of a step.”
“You’ve been putting this off. Each week, you’ve eloquently told me how much this fear of dogs interrupts your life.”
I rubbed my hands down my face. “Is it my fault that practically every person in Gaynor Beach owns a dog?”
“You told me that before the accident, you went to the beach every day.” The sun glinted off the water through the window behind her head. A pang of longing went through me. I missed going to the beach.
“Watching Air Bud and the live action Lady and the Tramp is not the same as touching a real live dog,” I said, jutting my chin. I knew she was right, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“How about this? For a first step, you don’t even need to touch the dogs. Just walk through the pod. The dogs will all be in kennels, with bars between you and them.” Ms. Lozano’s phone beeped. She tapped the button to turn off the alarm. “Think of this as a blind date. Write down your thoughts after your visit, and we’ll discuss it next week.”
I mumbled my assent.
“Stupid CBT therapy,” I muttered after I’d left the building. Watching a dog on the screen wasn’t the same, but she also had a point. Just the thought of the dogs right there next to me made me shudder. At first, I hadn’t even been able to watch movies with a dog in them, and now I could do it with only mild anxiety when the dog was on screen.
I had no other meetings this afternoon after my therapy appointment. I knew from experience I was usually pretty shaken up afterward and had quickly learned to keep my calendar clear after to let me decompress. I was afraid if I put it off, I’d work myself into an anxiety attack.
The shelter was south of downtown Gaynor Beach across the river, opposite where I lived in Oakdale to the north. It was a detour, but it would be no matter when I went; I never had a reason to go to the south side.
I’d stop by, dash through the dog pod, and get it over with. Then, I could go back to pretending dogs didn’t exist until my next weekly appointment.
Middle of the day during the week, the shelter’s parking lot was empty, so there was no one to judge as I sat in my car, psyching myself up to go inside. With my windows rolled down to let in the tang of salt from the nearby sea, I could hear dogs barking from inside.
I stared at the entrance. A large blank spot overtop just begged to be painted with a cool mural. Something animal-themed, of course. I tore my eyes away from it. Obviously, I would not be the one painting it, not with every bark from inside making me flinch.
It was fine. I could do this. The dogs would be behind barriers. No different than seeing them on the television screen. I kept repeating that silently to myself as I got out of the car and marched up to the shelter doors. Before opening them, I took a deep breath and squared my shoulders.
A lean man with dirty blond hair greeted me from the reception desk as I walked in. Despite the yapping dogs, the interior captured my attention. This was an animal shelter? Marble floors, a crystal chandelier? Swankaayyy.
“Welcome to Safe Haven Animal Rescue. Are you looking to adopt today?” The man’s voice broke me out of my reverie.
“Just browsing right now,” I told him, clenching my fists in my jacket pockets to hide how much they were shaking.
“Cats or dogs?” he asked.
Cats were visible through the glass door to my left. I stopped and watched a trio of black and white kittens rolling around on the floor after a catnip ball—cute little furballs. Huh. Maybe after seeing the dogs, I’d come back and adopt a cat. Working from home could get a little lonely sometimes, and the idea of fuzzy company appealed to me. It could be a little treat for surviving walking through the dog pod.
“Both. Or, rather, either?” I took another cleansing deep breath—a mistake as the scent of cat piss and wet fur was still perceptible over the stinging tang of bleach—and pivoted on my heels. Before I could reconsider, I marched towards the swinging doors from where the barking echoed.
“Cool, cool.” The blond guy bobbed his head like I hadn’t just said something stupid. “Let’s start with the cats. Once you see these babies, you’ll fall in love.”
“Actually, dogs—” I said, then stuttered to a stop as another man came walking out of the staff-only door.
What I saw had my heart in my throat and made me forget where I was. He had dark hair, almost black, cut in a longer floppy style that fell over one side of his forehead. He grinned at me, revealing a dimple on just one cheek. This was the kind of guy that, if I saw him at a gay bar, I’d definitely be flirting and buying the guy a drink.
But since I wasn’t expecting a handsome man to pop up here, my brain was in the wrong gear. While I struggled to pop the clutch of my mind from “terror” to “flirtatious,” one of the beasts in the back let out a series of high-pitched yaps that had me cringing. But the pull of a hot guy was stronger than my fear.
“Dogs,” I repeated, my brain stuck like a scratched record, repeating the last thing I’d said.
“Neil, buddy!” The blond worker flopped back down in his seat behind the desk. “Want to take this guy to look at the dogs?”
“Me?” Neil asked, touching his chest.
“You need to learn the layout of the place.” The blond man waved a hand toward the right, then turned his attention back to me. “When you’re done, come back here, and I’ll show you the cats, yeah?”
Neil, flustered, ran a hand through his hair. “Or if you want to adopt one of the dogs, Shane can help you with that too,” he told me.
Shane snorted. “No way. He looks like a cat man to me.”
“Right then, shall we?”
Neil pushed open the employee-only door he’d just come out of, and the dogs behind it went nuts again. But I hardly heard them, so focused on Neil and his backside that I gladly followed him into hell. Hot guys—better than a year of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) for getting past your fears.
The pod was circular, the entrance and exit being the same door. Concrete kennels lined the interior of the space, and safety glass separated the dogs from the guests.
A golden-furred dog that reminded me of the dogs from the Air Bud movies barked at me from the first cage just inside the doors.
My heart racing, the reality of where I was came crashing back down. The smells and the realness were so much more overwhelming than a dog on a television screen.
While we circled the cages, Neil kept up a steady stream of chatter about the benefits of this dog breed or that one. I nodded along, pretending I was listening, occasionally letting out a muttered response.
We were almost all the way around when I caught sight of a dog that looked almost exactly like the ones that had attacked me a year ago. A tiny black-and-tan beast no bigger than my hand furiously wagged a thin tail as I came into view. I gasped and froze, unable to tear my eyes away. It stared at me through the glass, jumping up and down like a demented jack-in-the-box.
“He caught your eye, I see.” Neil’s cheerful voice cut through the din like a life preserver thrown to a drowning man. “Not the best choice for a first-time dog owner, however.”
I clung to his words and let them drag me back from the edge of my panic attack. Breathe. I needed to breathe so I could answer the handsome man’s question. “What makes you say that?” I asked, my voice quavering. I wasn’t sure what had me more flustered at this point, the dogs or realizing I was making a fool of myself in front of Neil.
Laugh lines crinkled up around his eyes as Neil grinned at me. “That he’s not a good choice or that you haven’t had a dog before?”
“Both,” I said, still cringing.
“That reaction, for one, told me you’re probably not used to being around dogs.” Neil shot me a wink and kneeled down to give the yappy monster a treat. “But also, Chihuahua mixes like this one tend to be more aggressive than bigger dogs.”
I nodded since I knew this from bitter experience.
“For a first-time dog owner—” Neil led me around the corner to the first dog, “—a dog like this golden retriever is a good choice. They’re friendly, loyal, and eager to please. This one is even already trained; his owner was an older gentleman who unfortunately died.”
The door to the lobby was right at my back, but my feet were rooted to the ground. I focused on Neil, studying him to help push back my panic.
From the paleness of his skin, he either didn’t get out much, or he was new in town. His wavy, dark hair was meticulously styled, gelled in that artful way that looked effortless and casual, yet I knew it took a lot of work from trying and failing to do the style on myself. And he wore glasses, swoon.
“I wasn’t planning on adopting today.”
“I noticed you seemed a bit nervous.” He gave me a sympathetic half-smile. “One way to get more comfortable with the dogs would be to volunteer here at the shelter.”
“Oh, I don’t—”
“I’m the new volunteer coordinator, Neil Lovelace.” Neil offered me his hand.
The shifter of my brain popped from “terror” to “flirt” so suddenly my thoughts veered off the road and crashed into a ditch. All I could think about was spending more time with this handsome man.
“Sawyer Tirrell,” I said automatically, shaking his hand. “So if I volunteer here, does that mean I’d get to spend time with you, too?” I winked.
Neil chuckled along with me. “I suppose it does.”
Good god, he was adorable. What the heck? I couldn’t resist the lure of those ocean-blue eyes. The possibility of spending more time with him was a treat too juicy to pass up. I’d just volunteer to do something with the cats; being around the sound of barking dogs a few times a week would be good for me. “Sign me up!”
Chapter three
Hot for Volunteer
Neil
If it was going to be this easy to recruit all my future volunteers, this job would be a cakewalk. I hadn’t honestly expected the visitor—Sawyer—to say yes to my suggestion to volunteer. I didn’t even know where the forms were kept… or if there even were any. Today was my first day, and I’d only been in the shelter for a few hours, most of that spent with the owner, Arthur, filling out payroll and tax forms. I’d just been heading out for a bit of fresh air when Shane had waylaid me.
“Sorry for the mess,” I said reflexively as I sat Sawyer down in my new office, which really only was a desk in the corner of my boss’s space. Arthur wasn’t here at the moment. Since he’d thought I was on break, he’d gone down to take care of some things around the shelter. I wasn’t sure if I was grateful to be left alone with Sawyer or not.
“I’ve never seen such mayhem,” Sawyer drawled in his California accent as his eyes flicked over the desk, empty except for my beat-up old laptop covered in school stickers and the bare walls above it.
I flushed and flipped my laptop open, focusing on the screen to keep from having to look at Sawyer.
Though Sawyer looked more at ease now than he had in the dog pod, I was now uncomfortable sitting knee-to-knee in tight quarters with such a handsome man. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I was very attracted to Sawyer, and it’d been over a year since my last date. I’d been so busy with my final year and trying to find a job that dating had been very low on my list of priorities.
“What brought you to the animal shelter today?” I asked to break the suddenly awkward silence.
Sawyer hesitated, suddenly bashful as he stared away from me out the window. “Just wanted to see dogs in person,” he mumbled.
“The website photos don’t really do the animals justice or tell you about their personalities,” I agreed. The thought sent my mind spinning into what I could do to better promote online to prospective adopters. Videos of cats always did well on social media. Kittens and puppies, too. Really, my main job was recruiting and managing volunteers, but social media played a large role in recruitment.
Sawyer cleared his throat, making me realize I’d been daydreaming and silent for too long. With difficulty, I pulled my fragmenting attention back to the task at hand. I could write up a social media plan later. Arthur didn’t expect me to get everything done on the first day.
As I talked, I clicked through my files until I found the volunteer form I’d made as a school assignment. If I printed it on the shelter’s letterhead, it would be fine for today’s purposes. I sent it to the printer, then had to stand and move a few steps over to Arthur’s desk to grab it. My leg brushed Sawyer’s as I pushed past him, and I shivered at that brief contact.
I caught Sawyer checking out my backside in the reflection in the window. Nice to see my gaydar was correct. At first, I was flattered and then annoyed with myself for being flattered. If Sawyer knew I was trans, he’d lose interest, I was sure.
I set the fresh printout on the desk before him with a pen. “Fill out your information and the hours you’re available to volunteer,” I told him before retaking my seat.
He picked up the pen and started writing in a stylish, blocky cursive. While he did that, I started going through the form on my laptop and customizing it for the shelter.
“Excuse me, Neil?” Sawyer asked, voice quavering a bit.
I glanced over, not taking my hands from the keyboard. “Yes? Question?”
“One.” He blushed and fiddled with the pen. “I don’t see a place to fill out my job preferences?”
“Just note any restrictions you have at the bottom,” I assured him.
Sawyer didn’t move, so I glanced back, raising my eyebrows. “Does that not work?” I asked.
“I guess I have a question about what I’ll be doing as a volunteer?” Sawyer’s voice lilted up at the end in a questioning manner.
“Ah, right. I suppose I didn’t explain. The duties will vary from day to day, but they’ll be things like feeding the animals, doing laundry, cleaning, and walking the dogs.”
“That makes sense.” Sawyer gave a decisive nod and bent back over his page. A moment later, he slid the finished form back across the desk to me.
