Although she longed to fling the generous offer in his face, she couldn’t afford to do that. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
“I’ll be in touch.” As he walked away, Max trotted after him.
“Max, no.” Tansy followed behind and scooped up the cat. Max twisted and growled his displeasure. “You can’t go,” she murmured into his orange fur. “He doesn’t want you.”
And if Ben didn’t want Max, then Tansy didn’t want Ben. Simple as that.
BEN KNEW HE’D GONE from hero to jerk in sixty seconds. But what was he supposed to do? He fumed about it all the way back to the station and for days afterward. He kept picturing the flare of anger in Tansy’s eyes when she’d said, You mean you won’t.
But he hadn’t been born yesterday. She was a pro at this adoption game. She knew as well as he did that once he allowed Max into his home and into his heart, the cat would be there for life—Max’s life, which would probably be short. Ben wasn’t going through that again.
If Tansy had immunized herself against that pain, then bully for her. She was definitely in the right line of work. So was he, for that matter. While she was comfortable with the passing of time, he was in the business of freezing it.
The images he captured with his camera stayed that way. The playful cats and the bouncy dogs would be young forever in the pictures he’d created. Maybe he was denying reality, but he didn’t care. His decisions worked for him.
He’d be wise to forget Tansy Dexter. She wanted too much of him, and would make him more vulnerable than any animal could.
But she wasn’t easy to forget. Besides his own vivid memories, he was assaulted by promo spots for The Haven. Each morning the six o’clock news included a chart showing the number of animals with temporary homes for the holidays and the progress toward reaching the financial goal necessary to build another Kitty Condo.
Both campaigns were going well, which made for a feel-good Christmas atmosphere in the newsroom. Ben was happy for Tansy that the public awareness campaign was working, but he’d be so glad when Christmas was over and he wasn’t being constantly reminded of her.
They’d had one email exchange since he’d left the shelter that Saturday morning. On Monday, he’d sent her a file containing the shots Paul had released to her for The Haven’s Facebook page and website. She’d responded with her gratitude, copying Paul. But he knew the warmth in the email was for Paul and not for him, though. Although Tansy occupied his thoughts most of the time, Max wasn’t far from his mind, either. The cantankerous cat would spend Christmas day alone in that office, no doubt. No one would volunteer to take him home, and he probably wouldn’t want to go with them, even if they did.
Max had his preference and it happened to be Ben, or somebody very much like him. His adoration was touching, and Ben had spent more hours than he cared to admit searching through his contacts looking for somebody who might fit a similar profile. He wasn’t that unique. But he hadn’t found a good match.
With all his effort to push Tansy out of his mind, he’d also forgotten the angel card he’d shoved in his coat pocket. On Thursday morning he pulled his gloves out of his pocket and the card he’d plucked from The Haven’s tree came out, too, badly crumpled.
Taking the card had been an impulse, but he still wanted to honor it. He wasn’t interested in adoption, but there were other ways he could support the animals. After the way they had parted on Saturday, returning with gifts might seem like he was trying to get back on Tansy’s good side, but he couldn’t help that.
At least Christmas was still a couple of weeks away. He would have hated finding that card during his ski trip. He vaguely remembered what was on the card, but he checked it again to make sure. Yep, a large carpeted cat tree.
He’d seen a couple of them in the rooms of the Kitty Condo. Most of the carpeting had been shredded by busy claws and replaced with remnants, so the cat trees were now a patchwork of colors with a few bald spots. Considering the plans for a second cat building, The Haven clearly needed more of those things.
Mickey had never had one. After the first few times the cat had dug into the furniture, Ben’s aunt and uncle had banned him from the house. By the time Ben was old enough to buy Mickey a cat tree for scratching, he preferred the real trees he found as he roamed the neighborhood. It would have been a waste of Ben’s hard-earned cash.
But these days he had the money to spend. He could get at least two. He had a truck, so hauling them over wouldn’t be a problem.
Seeing Tansy again might be.
And yet he wanted to see her again, fool that he was. He missed her infectious smile and her sunny outlook. He missed her, which was not a good sign, but it was the sad truth.
He spent his lunch break dithering over which cat trees to buy and whether he should get more than two.
Finally he settled on just two. Until the new facility was built, The Haven might not have room for more. These two could be used immediately in the existing rooms or in the portable, and after the second Kitty Condo went up, he’d buy more. Or maybe some toys. Or blankets. They seemed to use a lot of those.
Besides missing Tansy, he missed the warm and optimistic atmosphere of The Haven. He kept remembering the way the cats had played their little hearts out as they celebrated the joy of being alive. He wanted another reason to be part of that.
He left the cat trees at the store and arranged to pick them up later. A misty rain had been falling all morning and he didn’t want them sitting out in his truck getting soaked while he worked. He’d have to use a tarp when he took them over to the Haven.
He didn’t get off until six—was that too late to deliver the trees? He could always wait until Saturday, but he didn’t want to. Now that he’d bought them, he was eager to get them over there. And yeah, he was eager to see Tansy, too.
Originally he’d imagined driving up and surprising her with the cat trees. Now he realized that wasn’t such a good idea. If he arrived in the middle of a busy time, he’d only add to the confusion. She, or Faye, or someone, needed to know to expect him.
During a five-minute break in filming, he called The Haven, got Faye and told her his mission.
“That’s terrific, Ben!” She was gratifyingly excited. “The cats will love having those.”
“I can get them over there after work, but it’ll be around six-thirty.”
“We’ll be closed up by then. Do you want to wait until Saturday?”
“Not really. I was hoping—”
“Hang on. Let me check with Tansy.” Faye put him on hold and he listened to “Jingle Bells” sung by barking dogs and meowing cats. It made him smile.
“Ben?” Tansy’s voice wiped the smile right off his face and jacked up his heart rate.
“Hi. I bought these two cat trees, and I—”
“Faye told me, and we really appreciate that.”
He wished she’d said I instead of we. It was a subtle but telling difference.
“Listen,” she continued, “I don’t blame you for not wanting to interrupt your Saturday again, so let’s—”
“It’s not that.” Great. Now she thought he was worried about cutting into his weekend. “I just figured the sooner the cats have them, the better.”
“Well, that’s obviously true. They love having new furniture to explore, and we could really use one out in the portable. Anyway, I can take your delivery. That’s one of the advantages of living right next door. Give me a call when you’re on your way and I’ll come meet you. How big are they?”
“About four feet