“Oddly, I feel romanced by that statement. Sadly, the laws most everywhere prohibit it.”
“A man can hope. Shall we go save some puppies?” he asks.
“Yeah. Hell yeah. I’d like that.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I have never seen anything sadder or more beautiful than what I just witnessed. My heart was broken into hundreds of pieces and is now restored like new. The woman we just visited runs an animal shelter from her home. It’s only her and as many cats, dogs, and critters as she can afford to house safely until she finds their furever homes.
The thing is, her house is falling apart. Leaky roof, cracked windows with tape, weeds overgrowing, and her clunker. I doubt it even runs. My guess is she spends every last dime taking care of those animals, which is why her neighbors filed a complaint to have her home condemned.
I see their point, to be honest. The place was a mess. But inside, I saw clean crates, waging tails, and so much love for her work.
Watching Marus deliver the keys to a new facility—fully equipped to care for hundreds of animals and an annual budget for food, veterinary care, and staff (as long as the shelter remains open with a clean bill from Animal Services)—was life changing. I’ve never seen anyone cry so hard from happiness, which had me bawling right along with her.
And though it wasn’t part of her wish, Marus arranged to have her house fixed up. A big van with cages installed was also part of the deal.
“I can’t believe how awesome that was,” I say as we hit the Turnpike. “And how awesome you are. That was amazing, Marus.”
“Thank you.”
I’m guessing his head feels really good today, because he’s all smiles.
“If I’d known I could’ve wished for things like that,” I say, “I probably would have asked for something similar.”
“It’s in the fine print.”
“The fine print says you can’t wish for things that impact other people’s lives.”
“Animals aren’t people,” he points out. “Not legally.”
“Either way, I’m thoroughly touched by what that woman is doing.” I bet her kindness inspires so many people.
“That’s the point of all this,” he says proudly.
“Well, that and giving shallow people what they want so they hopefully choke on it.”
“I prefer the word enlighten.”
I give it some thought. “Me too.”
I never imagined, not in my wildest dreams, that I would be sitting here with a man like him—gorgeous, kind, and rich—running around all day helping people. “I love being a genie partner in crime.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“But I still want to run my own business. You know that, right? I don’t want to be one of your charity cases, which reminds me, I need to write you a very big check.” I’m not keeping his five million dollars. I also have to start thinking about my next steps with my glass and how to improve my sales. The farmers’ market isn’t going to cut it.
“You’re a free woman. You can do anything you like. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try to spoil you or convince you to keep the money.” He pauses and a sly little grin dances on his full lips. “And it’s not like you can force me to cash that check.”
With irritation, I shake my head and smile. “We’ll have to discuss what that means another time. Today is too perfect, and I don’t want to ruin it with a fight about the money or whether spoiling me means sex five times a day or six.”
He chuckles. “So demanding.”
It takes us over an hour to get to the ice rink where this Rachel woman practices. During the drive, Marus tells me about his team of people, the operation, and how they keep it all going. What impresses me most is when I ask how many people’s lives they’ve changed, he says he lost count.
“Hundreds maybe.”
I think his parents would be proud if they knew about it. Maybe they do. I’d ask, but Marus made it clear that bringing up his past isn’t welcome. Of course, I hope to change his mind when the time is right. Funny how we’re both very determined people.
I get out of the car and watch several mothers carrying ice skates, dragging their kids through the windy parking lot to go inside for lessons. It’s spring, but the afternoon has abruptly turned back to winter. Cold. Drizzling. Gloomy.
“This is just a check-in,” Marus says as we walk toward the entrance. “We won’t be interacting with Rachel until I’ve made a decision.”
His comment gets me thinking. “That’s why you came to see me at the farmers’ market, isn’t it? You were trying to figure out what to do with me.” Before I wished, he asked why I was leaving early.
“I needed to get a sense for who you were, and maybe I just wanted to talk to you. A guy can’t be blamed for wanting to talk to a pretty girl.” He holds the door open for me.