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Aiden eyes the man fidgeting in front of the desk a little warily. He’s a big man, redheaded and muscular and with a couple of rather remarkable scars and a redoubtable scowl; he looks, in short, like trouble. If he asks for the fiercest dog they have, Aiden’s kicking him right out.
“What can I help you with?” Aiden asks, and the big redhead rubs the back of his head.
“Looking for a dog,” he says, and Aiden tenses a little. “Do you have any...really, really gentle ones?”
That was not what Aiden was expecting. “We have a few, yes.”
“It’s not for me,” the big redhead says. “My brother just adopted a kid, and she’s...really fuckin’ traumatized. Could use somethin’ to cuddle.”
“Does your brother know you’re getting her a dog?” Aiden checks. Surprise pets are a bad idea.
“Yeah, of course, I wouldn’t just fuckin’ dump a dog on someone,” the big redhead says, scowling harder. “What sort of asshole does that? He just can’t come look himself, is all.”
Aiden reconsiders his first impression. “Alright then,” he says, standing. “Let’s go have a look, shall we?”
The big redhead continues to not be anything like Aiden expected at first glance. He crouches down and offers his hand politely to each dog, murmuring to them; he peppers his speech with curses, but they don’t seem to be anything but punctuation, really. And he gravitates not to the pitbull mixes or the big Rottweiler, but to a shaggy mostly-spaniel mutt with the softest fur Aiden has ever encountered on a dog. She was horribly filthy and matted when she was brought in, and Aiden spent several hours patiently combing the dirt out of her fur, but now she’s a very pretty shade of rich brown, and she loves everyone. She’s also missing an eye, which is probably why she was dumped in the first place, and is also why no one has adopted her yet.
She flops right into the big redhead’s lap when he sits down, and he ruffles her ears gently and coos compliments as he strokes her fur. “She got a name?”
“I’ve been calling her Sweetheart,” Aiden confesses. “She’s my favorite.”
“‘S a good name for her,” the big redhead says, and then, to the dog, “You are a sweetheart, aren’t you? Think you’d like being a little girl’s best friend?”
Sweetheart wags her tail harder, as if she understands.
The big redhead fishes his phone out of his pocket and snaps a few pictures of Sweetheart, presumably sending them off to his brother. “If Eskel likes her, can I take her home tonight?”
“We have a three-day waiting period,” Aiden says apologetically. “And a background check.”
“Smart,” the big redhead says, nodding. “There’s some nasty fuckers out there. Don’t like to think what they’d do with a sweetheart like this.” His phone chimes, and he glances down at it and grins, then turns it so Aiden can see the picture on the screen: a little blonde girl with enormous grey eyes and a huge smile. “Think Deidre likes her.”
“Yeah,” Aiden agrees. “Want to go fill out some paperwork so Deidre can have her cuddle-pup as soon as possible?”
“Sounds good,” the big redhead agrees, and stands, Sweetheart cradled in his arms. She wriggles and licks his chin, and he chuckles. “Can I hold her til we’re done?”
“Of course,” Aiden says, trying rather unsuccessfully to keep from giving the bigger man a slightly besotted look. Big men being gentle with small animals are devastatingly attractive, so sue him.
Once all the paperwork has been filled out and Sweetheart has been installed in her cage again with a note on the door that says she’s being considered for adoption, the big redhead promises to be back on Friday and takes his leave. Aiden tidies the paperwork and files it, noting with interest that the big redhead’s name, neatly printed in a surprisingly elegant hand, is Lambert Wolfe.
And there’s a note at the bottom of the last page - the one that’s all legalese, there just to make sure all the bases are covered - that reads, If you want me to send you updates on Sweetheart, just let me know, yeah? and a jotted number.
Aiden hums a little and puts Lambert Wolfe’s number thoughtfully into his phone. Just so he can check up on Sweetheart, of course.