2. Casey

Chapter 2

Casey

M y heart stopped.

I set my phone down, midway through sending money through the banking app to my brother, Michael.

I needed to get it done before lunch, but right now, I just didn't care.

Chris, my friend and co-worker, nodded sympathetically as he slipped his backpack under the reception desk. I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water, unsure of what to say.

"You're kidding, right?" I asked, hoping—grasping at the chance—that this was some kind of joke.

I tried to force a smile, but it felt awkward and strained. I was never good at reading people when they kept a straight face.

Chris has always been like that—hard to read—but today, something was off in his eyes, almost pitying. Still, I clung to the hope that he was just messing with me.

Chris shook his head, and my grip on my phone faltered.

I couldn't believe it. Benny was gone.

I didn't even get to say goodbye, give him one last belly rub, or feed him his favorite treat.

Benny was my favorite dog at the shelter. Every time I showed up to volunteer, he'd bounce around the moment he saw me.

Even if another volunteer had him leashed for a walk, he'd somehow slip free and race toward me as fast as his little legs could carry him.

Once, while I was busy leashing another dog, he broke away again and nudged my hand, demanding that I put the leash on him instead.

I must have been so lost in my thoughts about Benny, hating myself for not being there on his last day, that I didn't notice Chris trying to roll my chair back.

His backpack strap had gotten stuck under one of the wheels.

I stood up, arms crossed, the question that had been building in me finally spilling out. "So, who got him?"

My tone came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't help it.

"Whoa, easy," Chris said, raising a brow. "If you wanted him, you should've adopted him."

"I know, I know," I sighed deeply.

I would've adopted him in a heartbeat if I could. But between running the pet grooming business and the burst pipe a few months back that drained my savings, it just wasn't possible.

Things had only recently started to settle down, and now that the business was stable, I had been thinking about bringing Benny home.

But I guess it was too late.

"Do you, uh, know who adopted him? What they're like?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly.

Chris finally got his bag situated and turned his attention to the coffee and donuts I'd brought in earlier.

"Lisa said it was some guy," he began, his voice softening. He must've noticed how worried I looked. "She said he seemed nice. Friendly. Around our age, I think?"

I frowned. What did age have to do with being a good dog owner? Sure, if he was young, it might have meant he was fit enough to take Benny on long walks, but that's hardly a guarantee.

And ‘nice'? ‘friendly'? People say that about anyone.

Hell, they could say that about psychopaths or sociopaths too.

My fingers tapped nervously on the desk. The shelter would have the name and address of the guy who adopted Benny.

Maybe I could pretend I was dropping off some of Benny's toys and find out…

Wait. I was a volunteer.

I didn't need to lie; I could just ask them for the information.

I paused. Okay, who's sounding like the psychopath now?

I looked up and saw Chris giving me a weird look. I really hoped he couldn't tell what I was just thinking.

"Well, Lisa's judgment isn't exactly spot-on," I said, looking Chris up and down with a teasing smirk.

"Hey!" Chris shot back with a laugh, shaking his head.

I watched as he tied on his apron, flipped the sign to ‘open,' and settled in to wait for our first appointment of the day.

The anxious thoughts swirling in my head began to ease—at least a little.

If Lisa had handled Benny's adoption, I could trust her judgment. She always made sure to do thorough background checks.

Benny was in good hands, and though it stung, I was genuinely happy he had finally found a forever home.

It was selfish of me to want him when I hadn't even been able to adopt him in the first place.

Glancing at my phone, I saw the banking app had timed out. Right—I'd been in the middle of sending money to Michael.

He needed it for next month's rent and essentials, but I wanted to send enough to cover a couple of months, just to be safe.

I hesitated, though, as the thought of my own rent crossed my mind.

The new property owner—what was his name again? Marv? Barth? Garth?—was coming by next week to introduce himself.

That was fine by me since I could ask him for a rent extension in person if needed. Apparently, he was Mrs. Hills' nephew, twice removed or something like that.

Usually, I'd just mail a check to Mrs. Hills, our former landlady, but she'd passed away a few weeks ago.

At first, I'd been a little apprehensive about renting from a shifter, but Mrs. Hills had been nothing but kind. Always patient, always understanding.

When I started the business, there were times I couldn't pay rent on time, but she'd grant me extensions with a smile, often bringing pastries to soften the conversation.

Eventually, I got over my nerves about her being a shifter.

She wasn't like the others I'd known. She was calm, understanding... I'd been lucky to have her as a landlady.

Now, I wasn't so sure about her nephew.

Absentmindedly, I scratched at the scar on my arm, hidden beneath my long sleeve. It was an old nervous habit I hadn't quite shaken.

I had to stop letting my thoughts go there.

I'd been living here in Pecan Pines for over a year now—a town full of shifters—and nothing bad had happened. I was fine.

What happened before... that was in the past.

Still, I couldn't help feeling a bit anxious about meeting the new landlord. I just hoped he'd be as easygoing as Mrs. Hills had been.

At the very least, I needed to figure out his name before I embarrassed myself when he showed up next week.

As I locked up the shop for the day, Chris glanced over at me. "Hey, you want to grab a beer with Lisa and me at the bar tonight?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, it's alright. I want to catch up on some work."

Though we both knew that wasn't the real reason, Chris just nodded and waved goodbye before heading home.

I just wanted to go home, wash off the wet dog smell, heat up some leftovers, and mindlessly scroll through my phone while half-watching the latest true crime documentary.

But at least twice a week, Chris would ask, and I'd always decline. He'd smile, wave, and the cycle would repeat again the next week.

Ever since I moved to Pecan Pines, I hadn't done much besides work at the shop and then back home. I hadn't fully assimilated into the town yet, but I was working on it.

I had come a long way since I first got here. Back then, I wasn't even sure I wanted to stay.

Honestly, I didn't know what I wanted. My life had stopped in its tracks, and I'd been on autopilot, just trying to take it one day at a time.

But Lisa and Chris convinced me to stick around, and somehow, my life had taken a one-eighty.

It's funny—if anyone had asked the 'me' from back then, I never would've imagined I'd be doing this well now.

I wasn't avoiding shifters anymore; at least I wasn't visibly reacting when I interacted with them.

I wasn't dating, but I was happy with where I was. Maybe it was time to move forward.

I chuckled to myself, silently vowing that the next time Chris invited me out, I'd say yes.

Or better yet, maybe I'd take both him and Lisa out.

As I turned to head home, I heard footsteps behind me, quickening as they caught up.

"Hey! Finally caught you!" a voice called out.

I turned around to see a guy jogging toward me, out of breath but smiling.

He grinned and held out a flyer. "I'm Aaron. I run a small shop on the other side of town. We're having a little get-together for human-owned businesses in a few weeks. Just a conversation about the recent changes in town. Thought you might want to stop by."

I took the flyer, glancing at the details. "I'll think about it," I said, tucking it into my pocket.

Aaron nodded, gave a quick wave, and jogged off.

As I watched him disappear down the street, I felt a twinge of reluctance.

I didn't really want to get involved with the politics between humans and shifters in town, especially after what happened a few months ago.

A shifter-owned bookstore had been attacked in broad daylight—by another shifter from the same pack. I didn't want to get dragged into anything like that.

I sighed, my thoughts drifting to what Lisa had told me about the town's history. Apparently, things had been calm until about ten years ago when a new alpha took over the Pecan Pines pack.

Ever since, there'd been some tension—tussles, mostly. Most of the shifters were decent, but there were enough bad apples to tarnish the pack's reputation.

The town sheriff had to step in more than once to handle the troublemakers.

Now, there was talk of another change in leadership.

A new alpha had recently taken over, and the town was on edge, wondering what it would mean for them.

Understandable, really. People were wondering if things were going to get worse, or if, maybe, they might finally get better.

But I didn't want to think about all that tonight.

The sky was clear, dotted with stars—a much better view than the smog-filled skies of the city where I used to live. For once, I decided to take the long way home, passing by the park.

The park was quiet, with only a few people scattered about. The scent of autumn leaves filled the air.

Up ahead, a couple sat on a bench, lost in conversation. Not wanting to intrude, I veered off onto another path, pulling my scarf tighter as the wind picked up.

This path wasn't as well-lit, but the stillness around me felt peaceful. It was quieter here, and oddly enough, that made me feel more comfortable.

Suddenly, I heard a sharp rustle of leaves behind me. It wasn't the usual rustling one would expect from the wind—this was faster, like someone—or something—was moving through the underbrush.

My heart skipped a beat. I glanced left, then right, but saw nothing.

The sound grew louder, closing in. Panic surged through me, and I bolted toward the nearest lamppost.

Just as I reached the light, I felt a weight on my leg.

My heart leapt into my throat, and a loud, high-pitched shriek rang out—one I didn't want to admit came from me.

I pressed a hand to my chest, rubbing it to calm myself. I really needed to lay off those late-night crime shows.

I hesitated, not sure what I'd find when I looked down. Slowly, I opened my eyes and peeked—only to see something long and brown nuzzling my leg and licking at my shoe.

"Benny!" I exclaimed.

I bent down, and the little dachshund immediately rolled onto his back, presenting his belly for a rub. I chuckled and obliged, giving him a rub as he let out a happy whine.

I took out my water bottle and poured some into my hand. Benny lapped it up quickly. I picked him up, scratching behind his ears as I scanned the park.

"Where did you come from, buddy?" I asked, glancing in the direction Benny had come from.

That's when I saw him—a man sprinting toward us, breathing hard.

Judging by the situation, this guy was probably Benny's new owner.

I knew Benny was microchipped, but I had to give the guy credit for chasing after him instead of waiting for a call.

He finally reached us, panting and leaning against the lamppost. I took a small step back to give him space.

People always say dog owners look like their dogs. Or was it the other way around?

Either way, this guy looked nothing like Benny.

Where Benny was small, a little chubby, with round eyes that were always eager for attention, this guy was tall, muscular, and had piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through me.

The only thing they had in common was their... what, brown hair? Fur? Whatever the dog-owner equivalent was.

"Thanks for grabbing my dog," the man said.

"No problem," I replied, not sure where to focus my gaze.

His smile was warm, and his hair was tousled in a way that looked effortlessly cool. My eyes drifted lower, noticing how his shirt clung to his muscular frame, damp from the run.

I quickly bent down to give Benny another drink, trying to shift my attention away from... other things.

The man crouched down and scooped Benny into his arms. I tried to remember what Lisa had said about the guy who adopted Benny.

Something about him being nice, friendly, and around our age?

I couldn't say for sure about the first two, but this guy definitely looked older than I was.

Maybe someone else had adopted Benny and given him to this guy. Or what if this man stole Benny from whoever adopted him? Either way, did that mean this man hadn't been background checked?

Even though he was attractive, I couldn't shake the thought that looks could be deceiving.

I narrowed my eyes. He didn't exactly match the picture that Lisa—well, Chris—had painted, but he didn't seem dangerous either.

Still, it was hard not to wonder if a guy this good-looking would really need a dog as a conversation starter.

I chuckled inwardly, shaking my head at my own paranoia.

Flirting with a stranger who may or may not have stolen a dachshund? Yeah, that was totally normal.