Last Chances Read online

  Last Chances

  Jeanne Bannon

  Copyright © 2018 by Jeanne Bannon

  ~ DEDICATION ~

  For Veronica, the sweetest girl I know.

  Last Chances

  Copyright Warning

  Copyright © 2018 by Jeanne Bannon

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  One

  Monday, November 13th

  Pressley entered the Paws and Claws Animal Shelter to the yelps and barks of the animals sheltered there. It was her new workplace, hopefully. The job interview had been over the phone, kind of unconventional, but the woman on the other end seemed happy enough with her responses, or, Pressley considered, maybe it was desperation she’d heard in her voice.

  She looked around the small office situated at the front of the building. A thin dusting of animal hair covered every surface, and on the window ledge, three half-dead house plants, still in the green plastic containers they’d been bought in, sat in a sad row in order of height — a tall, but withering cactus was first in line; followed by an over-watered African violet with its brown, mushy-looking leaves; and finally, an unrecognizable lump of something green enough to look as if it was still alive.

  An old battered desk was pushed against the far wall, while another equally well-used desk sat below a cutout in the drywall at the entranceway to the office. Pressley was thankful she had no allergies to animals or dust — this place would be hell for anyone with that affliction, and she wanted nothing more than to work with animals: to help find them homes and to take care of them.

  She was peeking through the cutout looking for Janet, her new boss, when the sound of a door slamming caught her attention. She turned in time to spot a woman walking toward her from the end of a long hallway.

  “Hi! Sorry, hon. I was in back with the barkers and kitty cats.” The woman had dark blonde hair that looked as if it had been molded into a helmet. She was short and plump — a sharp contrast to Pressley’s tall, slender frame. She smiled at Pressley as she made her way to the other side of the partition and took her place at the desk. “What can I do for you? You here to pick out a furry friend?”

  “Uh, no. I’m Pressley James. We spoke on the phone last Friday? You said to come in today.” Pressley smiled uncomfortably and tried to replay the conversation in her mind. Had the woman actually said, “you got the job,” or was Pressley making a stupid assumption? She felt her face flush and soon sweat beaded on her forehead. Summer was long gone, but it suddenly felt like high noon on a July day.

  “Yes! I’m so sorry, hon. I totally forgot. It’s been too darn busy around here lately with Jess leaving so unexpectedly and all. We’re short-staffed, but then again—” she shrugged “—I hate to say it, but it’s a revolving door around here sometimes. We get someone in because they simply love animals, but when they realize it’s not just about playing with puppies and kittens all day, they leave pretty quick.” She narrowed her eyes as if assessing Pressley. “You’re clear about that, right? It’s office work first, and helping with the animals second — when you’ve got extra time. And, by helping, I mean cleaning up poop and pee and whatever else.” She laughed. “It also means brushing and feeding and yes, playing, but only after the grunge work is done.”

  Pressley nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I understand. I’m ready to work.”

  “Don’t you ma’am me! Call me Janet. I may be older than you, but I ain’t your grandma. Now, come on over to the business side of this sorry excuse of a window and set yourself down over there.” Janet pointed to the other side of the room where the sad-looking desk sat.

  Pressley walked over, opened the bottom drawer and was about to plop her purse in, but it was filled with old files. She hung her bag on the back of her chair instead, making sure it was zipped up and smoothing the leather, so it wouldn’t lose its shape. The layer of dust and fur on the desk top was making her nervous. Would it be rude if she went in search of paper towel or cleaning supplies? Or maybe she could nonchalantly blow the crud away when Janet wasn’t looking?

  Her new boss swiveled in her chair to face Pressley. “So, you here for the love of animals? ’Cause I know it can’t be for the money with what we’re paying you.”

  “Not for the money, no. I just need a job. It’s important to have a purpose.” Pressley sat primly, hands folded in her lap, the toes of her sensible shoes tapping the linoleum.

  “You’re in the right place, then.” Janet winked. “You kids are great with social media and the Internet and all that, so whenever you’re ready, power up that old clunker of a computer and get started on boosting our web presence and such. At least the monitor’s fairly new. Gotta be thankful for small favors.” Janet turned halfway in her chair, then swiveled back around. “Oh, and don’t mind the mess. You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

  Pressley wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the tickle of animal fur in her nose, allergic or not, it was annoying, and it hit fast, like a swarm of black flies. She waved a hand to clear the air, but it made things worse. Three ferocious sneezes escaped her. Each was met with a hearty, “God bless you” from Janet and then, “You’ll get used to that, too. The fur’s flying a bit more because there’s two of us in here stirring it up. Got some Windex in the bottom of that cabinet and some paper towel. You can clean up later, if ya like.” She indicated a lopsided wooden tower with two shelves and a cupboard at the bottom.

  Pressley did like that notion, but first she’d try to get some work done — nothing like being dropped right into the mix, she thought, but then again, no one had to tell Pressley how to navigate social media. She was a Millennial; it was in her blood. Though she did think it was funny Janet had called her a kid. At twenty-seven, she hardly felt like a kid — here she was pushing thirty, no husband, no children, and still trying to find purpose in life.

  She opened the door on the side of her desk and was shocked to see an ancient computer tower, circa 1998, complete with two floppy disk drives. It took a second to find the power button and even longer before the monitor flickered to life. Social media and marketing were right up her alley, but she needed her Mac Book Pro. There was no way she could work with this dinosaur.

  Janet was shuffling through a stack of papers on her desk — another antiquated way to do business, Pressley thought — but no sooner had she navigated to the Paws and Claws’ website, then Janet started talking again.

  “What the heck, let’s go out back now. I bet you’re dying to see all the cuties we got staying with us. You can get back to work in a bit.” Janet was on her feet and disappeared around the corner before Pressley could respond. She wondered where she should stash her purse. What if someone came in while they were in the back? She considered taking it with her but decided instead to stick it under her desk and push the chair in as far as it would go. Pressley jogged out of the office and down the hallway to catch up with a surprisingly speedy Janet.

  “Now, before we go through this door, there are two thi
ngs you need to know,” Janet said, her expression sober.

  Pressley thought a laugh or smile would follow. Janet seemed to be a bit of a fun-loving kidder, but the woman’s expression remained stony.

  “Okay, what are they?” Pressley asked.

  Janet cleared her throat. “We have a fellow who works here, not a volunteer but a full-timer. He’s a bit of a loner. Don’t pay no mind if he doesn’t give you the time of day. You’re a pretty young thing and probably used to male attention.” She lowered her voice as if she was about to tell a secret. “You don’t mind me saying that a little makeup would make you a real stunner, do ya? And maybe let that hair down?” She slapped a hand over her mouth, and looked contrite. “Shoot. Look at me being a dumb ass. I just met ya, and here I am giving beauty advice.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I got a big ole mouth and usually my foot’s stuck in it. Anyway, his name’s Hayden and well, he’s quite the looker. I’ve worked here long enough to know his story, but when anyone tries to break down his walls, he shuts ’em down like a twenty-car pileup on the freeway. Best to keep your distance. We need him since he’s the only full-time fella. Big muscles and all that, you know — good for helping with the heavy lifting.” She finally smiled, but it quickly faded. “So, the second thing to be mindful of is Jasper—”

  “Jasper?” Pressley cut in. Didn’t Janet just say there was only one male employee?

  “Jasper’s a lost cause, so don’t go feeling all bad for him. We tried our best, honey. I mean, we really tried. We don’t like to see any animals put down but sadly, there’s no hope for him. He’s a mean son of a gun and we just can’t seem to find him a forever home.” Janet pulled open the door. “Got it?”

  Pressley nodded. Jasper was a dog whose days were numbered. Despite the warning, her heart sank at the prospect of his demise.

  The back room was large, with kennels lining both sides. It was long too. From where she stood, Pressley couldn’t see where it ended. It looked as if there was a corner at the wall farthest from her. She scanned the room for both Hayden and Jasper, but all she saw were what looked like tiny jail cells, occupied by barking, yelping, and meowing inhabitants. And, to her surprise, it looked a bit cleaner in the back than in the office.

  Janet continued, “We pride ourselves on being a no-kill shelter. I mean, look around. Soooo many animals without owners and we do our darndest to find someone to love them. Some are long-term residents, like ole Romeo here.” Janet made her way to a lump of a beagle who was curled up in an old bed. When he spotted Janet, he hobbled over, tail wagging. “Got a luxating patella. Ain’t he just the sweetest boy you’ve ever seen?” Janet bent down and stuck a hand through the bars of the cage to scratch Romeo behind the ears. Romeo, for his part, looked as if he was loving every moment.

  “Luxating what?” Pressley asked.

  “It’s a knee thing. It pops out of joint every now and then. He’s okay though. Too old for surgery, so he gets by on his three good legs. Romeo, the vet figures, is about fifteen so he’s a lifer. Been here three years now, and I suppose he’s gonna stay until the end of his days.”

  “Then why can’t you do the same for Jasper?” Pressley couldn’t help but ask the obvious.

  Janet fixed her with a look of concern. “Come on over and meet that rascal. You’ll see for yourself why we can’t keep him.”

  Jasper was isolated in a corner by the back door. He had a large cage, a comfy-looking doggie bed, a bowl for food, another for water and a chew toy. Janet made her approach tentatively even though the dog was safely behind bars.

  At first, all Pressley saw was the cage. Jasper, she figured, must be in the farthest corner. As she made her way closer, a few steps behind Janet, she heard a low growl, and then the snapping of teeth. Janet jumped back and when she did, Pressley laid her eyes on the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen. Her instinct was not to run or even freeze on the spot, but to move toward the dog, hand outstretched. Before Janet could stop her, she was at the cage. Jasper’s growls turned to curious sniffs as he nosed Pressley’s hand.

  “What are you doin’?” Janet took hold of Pressley’s arm and tried to pull her away.

  “Shhh,” Pressley said, more to the dog than to Janet. Janet muttered something under her breath about being careful, but let go her grip and watched.

  Pressley moved slowly down to a crouch. Jasper kept a watchful eye on her every move, but he wasn’t skittish. He held his ground. Satisfied with his preliminary investigation of Pressley’s hand, she inched her hand farther into the cage, so she could pet him. He was a big boy, a German shepherd/mastiff mix if she were to guess. His fur was short and dark brown, his snout long and his nose, wet and black. But it was his eyes that Pressley loved the most. They were chocolate brown and inquisitive. How could Janet not see the intelligence behind them?

  “Hey there,” Pressley whispered, and the dog tucked his snout under her hand, urging her to keep petting him. “Are you a good boy?” She stroked the dog’s neck. Jasper pressed up against the cage with his whole body, and Pressley had to stop herself from putting her face close. She wanted to kiss him and for some reason, to smell him. She always loved the way dogs smelled.

  “That’s enough,” a masculine voice said from behind her. “Maybe you’d better get away while the getting’s good.”

  Pressley gave Jasper one last scratch behind the ears and he tilted his head appreciatively. “Good boy,” she said and slowly rose to her feet. This time, when she turned around, she saw the most handsome man she’d ever set eyes on.

  Two

  Janet, who’d been quiet as the proverbial church mouse, something Pressley could already tell was uncharacteristic of her new boss, finally spoke. “This is Hayden.” Janet’s eyes narrowed with the introduction as if she were trying to send Pressley a warning. But it wasn’t necessary — Hayden and Jasper were off limits: that she already knew.

  Pressley gave Hayden an unsure smile. She wasn’t a good judge of character when it came to people — at least not as good as she was with animals. She had a feel for animals, mostly for dogs, but humans were a puzzle, especially the male of the species. Hayden smiled back despite her lukewarm greeting. His eyes were pale blue and crinkled at the sides. And was that a pair of dimples beneath the dark blond beard? Pressley was fascinated by his head of shaggy hair. It wasn’t styled, exactly, yet with every movement, it fell perfectly back into place. She noticed his large, masculine hands, and when he pushed up his sleeves, she spotted muscled forearms and imagined that the rest of him must be built just as formidably. She felt her face flush for the second time that day and quickly reined in her thoughts.

  “He seems to like me,” Pressley said to Hayden while gesturing toward Jasper.

  Hayden laughed. “He doesn’t like anyone, sweetie. I’m afraid this boy is beyond rehabilitation. Rescued from a dog-fighting ring. Sad story.”

  Janet took Pressley by the arm and gave it a good yank, but Pressley stood her ground. Never mind the warning, she thought. She was intrigued by both man and dog. “Pressley,” she said to Hayden, offering a hand. He took it without breaking eye contact and gave it a firm shake. She liked that. He wasn’t one of those guys who treated her differently because she was a woman, though the pet name, ‘sweetie’ had given her pause.

  “First day?” he asked.

  Pressley nodded. From behind her, she heard Janet sigh and then the click of her heels as she left. First hour on the job and she was already in trouble. She wondered if she’d still be employed when she went back to the office.

  “Who do I talk to about adopting Jasper?”

  Hayden’s expression darkened. “You can’t. He’s not up for adoption. Besides, you’d be a fool to take a dog like this.”

  “He likes me. Watch.” Pressley turned to Jasper, and without hesitation, put her hand back through the bars. Jasper growled, and Hayden grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her out of danger a split second before the dog’s jaws clamped down.

 
; “Told you. He’s unpredictable. It’s sad, but that’s life, isn’t it? Not everyone or everything is fortunate enough to have a good start in life.”

  Pressley’s heart beat triple time — was it from his touch or because she almost lost a hand? “I’m sorry. I was just petting him not five minutes ago and he was perfectly fine.”

  “Yes, I saw that.” Pressley was carried away by his voice. It was deep and manly. “Don’t sweat it.” He smiled, and she saw that indeed, he was the owner of a pair of dimples. “Wanna see the cats? They’re a wild bunch of rascals. You might go home with a few scratches, but I guarantee you they’re safer than Jasper.”

  She shook her head. “I’d better get back to work. I’ve got a feeling Janet isn’t happy with me.”

  “I bet she’s not happy that we’re having a conversation either. She’s protective of me.”

  Although curious about the dynamic between Janet and Hayden, Pressley didn’t have the courage to delve deeper.

  “It was lovely to meet you, Hayden.” She shook his hand again, and cringed inwardly. Why did she always sound like a schoolmarm? She was young — not some middle-aged cat lady, then again, look where she worked. Oh God, was that her future? She could see it now, one look at the kittens and she’d melt. Soon, she’d be bringing them home! She pushed the thoughts away. Stay in the here and now, she told herself. It was a trick her therapist had taught her to quell anxiety. She took a few deep breaths, too.

  “You all right?”

  Pressley opened her eyes. She must look exactly how she felt, like a woman on the verge of a panic attack. She waved a hand in front of her face and took another deep breath. “I’m fine. Just hot in here. Gotta go now.”

  As she walked away, she knew how she must have looked to Hayden — like some crazy woman. With each step toward the safety of the office, she felt better, though still embarrassed. She thought of Janet’s words. Was she right? Did she did need a bit of makeup and to loosen the super-tight bun on the top of her head? She sighed. No, she was fine just the way she was. Pressley thought of the times she said those same words to her reflection in the mirror — once in the morning and again at night. Another suggestion from her therapist, but they were words she never could bring herself to actually believe.