When I pulled into the lot at Paws Crossed the next day, a streak of orange and yellow had just begun to peek over the horizon, announcing the arrival of dawn. I whipped into one of the many open parking spots and turned off my car, but didn't get out. For a moment I just stared out the windshield, watching a parade of morning color chase away the blues and purples and blacks of the night.

Today was going to be just as terrible as yesterday was. I knew it wasn't a very good attitude to have, but I'd never been one of those annoyingly optimistic people who thought the world was all rainbows and butterflies. There was also the issue of me leaving the cleaning supplies scattered in front of the kennels last night. I'd stormed out without saying with saying goodbye to Mrs. Lewis, and I doubted Mr. Southern Charm picked up for me.

Would Mrs. Lewis be pissed at me? Would I get yelled at? I wondered momentarily how my parents would react if I got fired. Considering the cold shoulder I'd been receiving from my father since the Twin Peak incident, he'd send me off to boarding school before I could mutter the words Friends with Greenwood. Sighing, I opened the door and climbed out of my car into the brisk morning air. Might as well face the music. If I did end up getting fired, at least it was still early enough to go home and crawl back under my covers.

As I crossed the blacktop, I stifled back a yawn. No amount of coffee was going to make waking up at five o'clock in the morning okay, but I didn't have a choice. Today I was learning the daily feeding routine for the dogs, and diet preparation started at six sharp every day. The back door of the shelter was already unlocked, and I could hear Mrs. Lewis clamoring around the kennels to the chorus of happy barking as I slipped inside. Before joining her, I went to the office to stash my purse and punch in.

"Morning, Quinn!"

My head jerked up in surprise. Mrs. Lewis was seated at her desk, nursing a cup of coffee as she went over some kind of paperwork.

"Oh!" I said, placing a hand on my heart. "Hi. You totally scared me."

"Sorry! I didn't mean to," she said, and I flinched. Her tone was way too cheerful for this early in the morning. "By the way, great job on the kennels yesterday."

I felt my eyes widen at her compliment. "Yeah?"

She nodded, a huge smile spreading across her face. "They look fabulous. I've never seen someone do such a thorough job their first time around."

No one had ever complimented me on cleaning something before, mainly because I never cleaned things, and when I did, it was half-assed. Must have worked out all my pent up anger with a scrub brush, I thought to myself. Then the words "first time" registered in my brain and my shoulders slumped at the thought of cleaning the kennels all over again.

"Um, thank you," I muttered. Maybe if I did a less than an impressive job the next time around she wouldn't ask me again...

"You're very welcome. I'm so glad you decided to volunteer with us, Quinn. I can already tell that you're going be a wonderful addition to our family here at Paws Crossed."

As I shoved my purse into one of the small lockers along the far wall, I couldn't tell if I felt more relieved or shocked. Not only was Mrs. Lewis glad that I was here, but she wasn't mad with me. But if she wasn't upset, did that meant Mr. Southern Charm cleaned up the mess I left on the floor last night? That didn't make any sense. Why would he help me after I was so short with him?

"Quinn, before you go," Mrs. Lewis called, and I turned back around to face her as she stood up from her desk. "My husband and I are redoing our beach house over the course of the next few weeks. I'll have my hands full with the renovations and won't be able to spend as much time at the shelter, so my nephew Holden kindly agreed to give me a hand. If you have any questions when I'm not around, feel free to ask him. He's been working here every summer since he was fourteen and knows his way around."

"Okay, thanks for the heads-up," I said. What I was really thinking: Great! Another person to boss me around and make me pick up dog poop.

"Also, I know I said I'd be teaching you the the basics of the feeding routine today, but since I have some paperwork to take care of, Holden will run through it with you," she explained. "I'm not exactly sure where he is at the moment, but if you head over to the kennels, I'm sure you'll find him poking around somewhere."

After quietly shutting the office door behind me, I went in search of Mrs. Lewis's nephew. There was a small room dedicated to food storage where all the dogs meals were prepared, and I decided to check there first. When I opened the door, I immediately found Holden. He was standing by the counter with his back to me as he measured out bowls of dry food.

Some unbearable country song was blasting from the radio on the shelf, and the music was so loud that Holden didn't hear me step inside and close the door. Since he had no clue I was there, I took a moment to study him. He was tall and lean, but still fit. Nowhere near as ripped as Kabel—no one was built like him—but I could see the shadow of muscle beneath his shirt. Then I noticed his clothes. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans that were frayed at the end, and while they fit his butt perfectly, they were some cheap department store brand. On his feet was a beat up pair of Converse, and his blue t-shirt looked faded from multiple washings.

Olivia would have a comment or two about this guy's wardrobe, I thought to myself. Or lack thereof.

When the song reached the chorus, Holden shook his shoulders to the music and belted out the words at the top of his lungs. I had to admit, he could dance. That, however, did not make up for his horrible singing voice, and I suppressed a giggle.

"Nice moves, Mick Jagger," I called over the music.

Mrs. Lewis's nephew spun around at the sound of my voice, and I was met with a pair of familiar brown eyes.

"You," I exclaimed, my eyes widening at the sight of Mr. Southern Charm. There was a good-natured smile on his face, like he didn't give a crap about being caught in the middle of a rock out session. "You're Holden?"

Holden reached over and switched off the radio so we could have an actual conversation without shouting. "I go by Lewis," he said, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "But you can call me whatever you like, Miss."

He was teasing me about yesterday, I could tell, but I refused to take the bait. Instead, I took a deep breath and said in a calm voice, "It's Quinn. And please don't tell me that line has actually worked for you before."

"That depends," Lewis said, pushing away from the counter. He took a step forward, flashing me that lazy grin of his, and as I looked up at him, I realized just how tall he was. Way tall. As in, I-barely-reached-the-top-of-his-chest tall.

I took a step back and bumped into the door behind me. "On what?" I asked.

"If it's working on you."

"Definitely not," I said, crossing my arms. "I'm not susceptible to cheesy."

"Oh, we'll see. I have plenty more where that came from, and I'm confident I'll wear you down eventually." He winked and then reached out a hand for me to shake, as though this was some important business deal rather than an awkward second meeting. "It's nice to officially meet you by the way. You shot outta here so fast last night that I didn't get a chance to introduce myself."

Despite the irritation I felt yesterday, I slipped my hand into his. It was rough and warm, and my cheeks turned pink at the contact. Maybe it was because this entire situation felt ridiculous, or maybe because, despite the fact that I was nothing but rude to him during our first encounter, Lewis seemed genuinely happy to see me. And suddenly my throat turned thick with guilt.

God, I was a total bitch.

"About that..." I said, tugging on my necklace. "I know I wasn't exactly—um, friendly the other day, so thanks for picking up after me and not telling your aunt. "

Lewis waved a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it."

For some reason, his easy forgiveness made me feel worse. "No, seriously. I really appreciate it. If I would have been fired..." I trailed off as the reality of the situation hit me. This guy literally saved my ass from being shipped off to New York.

"You must not know my aunt very well if you think she'd fired you over a broom and bucket," he told me.

"I've only been working here for a few days," I explained. "Regardless. I wish there was a way for me to repay you." Growing up, my dad always drilled into me that it was never good to be indebted to someone. And that was exactly how I felt with Holden now, like I owed him something.

"Actually," Lewis said in that accent of his that reminded me of homemade lemonade and porch swings and warm summer breezes. "There's two things you can do for me. First, stop feeling guilty. Everyone gets a little cranky when they gotta clean the kennels, me included. Second, if you really want to make it up to me, let me take you to lunch."

"I have a boyfriend," I said quickly, the words coming out like a reflex. They weren't the exact truth, but they weren't a lie either. Kabel and I may not have been official, but I had a feeling he'd be angry if he found out another guy was taking me out to eat.

"That's wonderful, Quinn," he said, swallowing back a smile. "But what does lunch have to do with your boyfriend? Can't one coworker pay for another's sandwich?"

My cheeks went pink. "Oh, yeah. Totally," I responded, and I silently cursed my pale skin with its magic ability to blush at the drop of a hat.

Lewis didn't seem upset about my boyfriend news, and that confused me. I couldn't tell if he was hitting on me or if he was a naturally flirty person. Had I somehow misconstrued his lunch offer? Not knowing made my stomach flutter uncomfortably.

"So is that a yes, Miss Quinn?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes. "Sure, Mr. Lewis."

"Ooh, Mr.," he said with a smirk. "I think I like that."

"Oh dear god," I groaned. I had a sudden feeling that working at Paws Crossed just became a whole lot more complicated. "Please help me."