Page 6 of Whispered Promises

“Definitely my fault for not looking where I was going. I just didn’t think anyone else would be up at this time,” he responds with a lopsided grin, his toasted brown eyes crinkling at the corners. My heart skips at how effortlessly sweet he is.

“Oh, I think you forgot your shoes in your hurry too? But those socks are the cutest, beautiful.”

My eyes widen at his compliment, then disappointment immediately crushes the warm rush. He’s probably just being nice.

“Umm, no. My shoes are in my car downstairs. I don’t like traipsing them into the flat because they get mud everywhere, so I just leave them in the car,” I say quietly, staring down at my toes wiggling in the fluffy ginger socks with cat ears on the top.

“A girl who likes to get all dirty and wear cute cat socks? Where have you been all my life?” He clutches his chest in mock surprise, and I can’t help the small laugh that bubbles out at his friendly flirting.

“It’s nothing like that. I volunteer at a rescue farm nearby on weekends, so I often come home covered in animal slobber, mud, and fur. But I don’t mind it; it’s my favourite place to be.”

“I love that you do that. I wish I could come with you, but I have to get to work.” His exaggerated pout has me fighting another laugh. “I’ll walk down with you to the car park. Who’s your favourite at the farm?”

Turning simultaneously, we walk side by side down the corridor. My body’s so aware of his presence that it takes intense focus on my feet to ensure that I don’t gravitate toward him.

“Hmm…I don’t think I can decide. They all make me so happy. Daisy, one of the cats, is very sweet, though. She sits on my shoulders a lot of the time while I’m working and keeps me warm when it’s cold out. But then there’s Jerry, the Shetland pony. He’s always ready and waiting for me when I arrive and loves to play.” The enthusiastic rambling spills from my mouth as we walk, and I don’t know how to stop it. Triggering a favourite subject of mine—the animals—results in an overload of information being thrown at the other person.

“Buttercup is the furriest highland cow. She will sit for hours having her hair brushed and will even let me style it for her too. I just don’t think I can choose; they’re all so different.” Cutting myself off forcefully, I duck my head so he can’t see the furious blush spreading across my face.

“You’re too cute. They’re very lucky to have someone who cares so much about them. Maybe I could come with you one day and meet them? Help out a bit too. If you need any maintenance or building done, I can get that sorted for you.”

“Max, that would honestly be amazing! There are always things we desperately need done, but there aren’t any funds to pay anyone. So if you’re okay with volunteering your time, it would be really appreciated.” Joy surges through me at his kind offer, my mind racing over all the things we desperately need done.

“Of course I don’t mind. I’d love to help you out. I can pop by tomorrow?”

I stop at my car and glance up at his expression, trying to determine if he’s interested in me or just being a friendly person. How are you supposed to tell without direct signals?

“If that works for you, then that would be great. It’s the Furrever Home Sanctuary. I’ll be there at the same time tomorrow until 4 p.m., so just stop by whenever,” I reply, giving up on trying to figure out what his expectations are. Offering a smile, I open the car door and throw my bag across to the passenger seat before placing my breakfast safely on the floor, then settling into the driver’s seat.

“See you tomorrow, Rosy. Have a great day and say hi to Jerry for me.” He shoots me a quick wink and a wave, then saunters off to a gunmetal-blue Audi.

Shaking off the lingering confusion over his interest, I start the engine and pick out my “Belt Out Loud Car Karaoke” playlist and try to focus on the list of chores I need to start when I get to the rescue.

Pulling into the parking area at the farm, I tug on my boots before grabbing my bag, then get out and walk through the gated entrance.

Inhaling deeply, I let the familiar scent of the animals and nature ground me.

I love being here, and I love how it makes me feel.

The distraction it offers creates some relief from not having to battle my brain. Sure, some days are hard and stressful, but it feels different from the anxieties that latch on when I’m away from here.

Smiling to myself, I hoist my bag further up on my shoulder and trudge over to the office. Pulling out a set of keys, I unlock the space and flop into the chair behind the desk. Plugging in my laptop, I turn it on and open the email Anita sent yesterday.

Anita runs the rescue, and during the weekdays, she’s here managing it. For the past three years, I’ve been helping to manage it on the weekends for her. There’s no salary involved, so I have to work full-time during the week to cover the cost of living, but this is the place I prefer to be.

I run through her update to make sure there’s nothing urgent, then push out of the chair and head out to the feed barn. Grabbing the buckets, I load them up with breakfast for everyone, adding the supplements and feeds they need.

Entering the fenced area, I walk over to the first wooden coop and open it up, stepping aside to let the flurry of chickens rush out, their clucks greeting me. “Morning, Gladys, Dotty, Vera, Etta,” I call out. “Ow, no, I didn’t forget you, Vivian. You don’t need to peck for attention. I have your breakfast here. Just give me a minute to let the others out, please.”

I step away from the grumpy girl, so I can quickly unlatch the second wooden coop and let the ducks waddle their way out. “Good morning, Puddles, Nora—wait, where’s Norris?”

Heading inside the structure, I quickly locate the missing duck. “Hey, sleepy girl, you know you can’t nap the whole day away.”

I stroke her feathers, laughing softly as she yawns before snapping her beak closed.

“Come on, Norris, time for breakfast,” I announce, scooping her up and carrying her outside.

Indignant clucking and pecking greet me, all the girls crowding around the enclosed bucket, impatiently demanding their breakfast.