Page 25 of Love ’em or Liam

“This is amazing, Liam,” Wren says, looking around.

“Yeah, we’ve made a lot of progress in the last several months, but the infrastructure is taking longer than we’d like. We’ve got all the pens set up. When we get any new dogs, they’re quarantined for a while until we have them see the vet and get their vaccines. Then we start to socialize them in small groups before we let them loose in the big pen with the pack.”

“Pack,” she says with a snort. “Sounds like a wolf shifter romance.”

“You read a lot of those?” I can’t help but ask.

“I prefer bear shifters, actually. But historical romance will always be my favorite.” She smiles at me. “Tell me more.”

“Beau has worked hard to get the agility courses set up for the different sizes of dogs. Flynn and Jack have worked countless hours designing and building the actual buildings. We needed a shelter where the dogs could go to get away from inclement weather. And just the hot-as-actual-Hell Texas sun. Those were the structures we built first.

“Once Dane and Shelby’s house was finished, we converted his tiny home into the main office. It’s tight quarters, but it works for now.”

“How many dogs do you have?”

“At any given moment, we have upwards of sixty, but we have capacity for eighty. We like to keep space open in case we have any emergencies. Like we had a truck come in a few months ago, basically an entire shelter’s dog population. They were evacuating for a hurricane. Thankfully, that shelter sustained minimal damage, and the dogs were able to return a week later.”

“I’m impressed,” she says. “And amazed. You’ve not only created something incredible for the dogs, you’ve given your entire team a purpose. That’s no small thing.”

“I’m just in it for the dogs,” I tell her with a wink. I put the truck in park and turn to face Keller. “You ready to go see the dogs, bud?”

Keller looks up at me, his eyes so much like his mother’s, and he just shrugs.

“The Bishops were never fans of pets so we’ve never had an animal in the house. So he’s never really been around them.”

“Ah.” Fucking Bishops. I make a mental note to see if Flynn can do some of his hacking magic on them. People that nasty have to be doing something illegal. Probably not, but you never know. “Well, don’t worry, Keller, all of the dogs are behind fences. So you can decide how much interaction you want to have with them.”

The main gate is already open, and some of the guys—Dane, Jack, Flynn, and Beau—are milling around near the training pens, waving when they see us. I step out and round the truck, opening Keller’s door.

Keller’s eyes dart to the giant fenced area where several dogs are already running and barking. “They’re so big,” he says quietly.

“Some of them, yeah. But you don’t have to go in yet. We’ll start slow.” I offer him my hand. “Come on, buddy. Let’s go say hi from the safe side first.”

He takes my hand, still a little hesitant. Wren walks close on his other side, her free hand brushing his back. She smiles at me and I want to tell her how much I love her. How hard I’m going to work to make sure she and Keller are happy. I sure as fuck hope I’m enough for them.

The dogs go wild when we approach the fence. Tails wag, tongues loll, and one particularly enthusiastic mutt, a lab mix named Porkchop, does a triple spin before flopping onto his back for belly rubs.

“They know you,” Keller says, looking up at me.

I grin. “They’d greet you the same if you worked here too.”

Wren crouches by the fence, fingers extended through the open holes of the chain-link. A redbone coonhound named Mabel snuffles her hand and gives a low, happy huff.

“I love her,” Wren says simply.

“Mabel loves everyone. She’s a total sweetheart.”

But Keller doesn’t go any closer. He hangs back, chewing his lip.

“It’s okay, bud,” I tell him. “We’ve got a smaller space for meeting new friends. Wanna check that out instead?”

He nods quickly.

I lead them around to the side pen, which we use for testing therapy dogs. Only three dogs are inside—Blue, a patient terrier mix with one white ear; Banjo, a sleepy-eyed golden; and Franny, a small mutt with expressive eyebrows.

“They don’t jump?” Keller asks.

“Nope. These guys are pros and they’ve been trained not to jump.” I open the gate and hold it. “You want to go in with me?”