He still stared. She kind of wished he would blink. The city rushed by them in its usual frenzy, but she had a feeling he didn’t see any of it. A passerby jostled his shoulder, and still he stared blankly at her.
“Well, I don’t know, either, but I’m pretty sure there are a lot of them,” she continued. “Too many people have too narrow a world view, and I want to change that. At any rate, it’s hard to find any kind of fulfillment out of adjusting lighting so a guy can take a picture of a sofa, so I found it elsewhere. And these animals are so cute and they love the attention, and helping them find their forever homes is pretty much the best thing I’ve ever done with my life.” She’d even considered making a calendar with the shelter animals as a fundraiser for the Von Adler charity. If Mimi Von Adler approved, the platform would be huge. The funds might go to the Von Adler Rainforest Initiative, but the exposure for the city’s unwanted animals would make an immediate impact right there at home.
Ethan was still unnaturally pale. He swallowed. Hard. “Yeah, it’s a good thing to help them.”
She had a sudden feeling her no land mines assessment had been blown to pieces, but if he wasn’t going to elaborate, she definitely wasn’t going to ask. Her work was important to her, and she needed the help. “So are you in?”
“I’m in.” He smiled, and it may have been a bit forced, but she’d take it.
She hoisted her camera bag. “Good. It’s about four blocks away. Okay to hoof it?”
“I think I can handle four blocks,” he said wryly. He had some of his color back, which made her feel better. Then he reached out and took her camera bag, which made her feel…odd. A polite gesture by any account, but the hint of a smile and intensity in his eyes set loose a rabble of butterflies she hadn’t felt since…ever. She relinquished the bag—the ease at which she was able to do so astounding her, because her camera was her baby—and settled into step next to him.
“So you help rescue animals, both domestic and abroad, buy ugly pajamas, and want to see the world,” he said. “What else is simmering under that surface?”
“Feel the need to brace yourself?” she teased.
“I probably should,” he said under his breath.
She elbowed him and took hopeless note of just how hard he was under that tee of his. Figured she’d notice that.
”To answer your question,” she said,” I also do beefcake calendars for other local charities and some businesses.”
“Is that what I think it is?”
She grinned. “Stupidly ripped men posing for hottie of the month?”
He nodded. “Not exactly how I would have worded it, but yeah.”
“You’d be amazed at how much money they pull in as fundraisers. In fact, you and your brothers should get in on it. Put out a calendar for Fusion. You could give it away to your customers, and your phone would ring off the hook with people hiring you just to get a copy.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said in a tone that suggested he absolutely would not.
Ethan didn’t say much for the remainder of the walk, and Rue didn’t push it. He looked as if he had something on his mind, and she didn’t need to be in the middle of whatever it was. But more than that, she was excited over the job ahead. She loved her work with the shelter and wished she could do it more often, but she relied on the donated time of a pet groomer, who also had her hands full with the ragtag bunch of strays and abandoned pets that arrived in spades at the door of the no-kill shelter.
Upon their arrival, Ethan held open the front door. “Hey, Abbie,” Rue said to the owner, now her friend.
The woman looked up from the front desk with a ready smile, but her attention quickly slid past Rue and landed squarely on Ethan. “Abbie Marshall,” Abbie said. “And this is not Janie.”
“Not last I checked,” Ethan said easily. “Ethan Chase, substitute photographer’s assistant.”
“I need to switch jobs,” Abbie muttered. “Or at least go watch you do yours.”
“Forget it,” Rue said with a laugh. “He’s taken, and not by me. The line forms to the left.”