Read It Matters To Me (The Wandering Hearts Book 2) for Free Online

arms and back down my spine, settling in my thighs. I watch him, thinking I should say something.
    “Here, let me,” I manage at last.
    He pulls his hands away sharply, releasing the umbrella. His eyebrows knit together, before he turns, “there’s a backup in the storage room.”
    I shake my head, “I think I can fix it.”
    “We’re on a tight schedule,” he moans, aggravated. It’s quickly becoming evident he won’t be easy to work with.
    I narrow my gaze on the tension mechanism and see that a sliver of the umbrella fabric is trapped in it. Digging in a nail, I free it with a grunt, opening the umbrella. I exclaim, “Got it!”
    “Can you get our first subject?” he asks, unimpressed with my achievement.
    I place the umbrella on the ground next to where he’s positioning a large gray cloth. My head snaps toward the tall curtain that’s hiding the source of the whimpering noises. I try to place the sound, imagining everything from a harmless goat all the way to the lion that was staring at me from the photograph on the wall.
    Quit being silly, Kenzie. He wouldn’t send you in there if it were something that could eat you. Would he? I swallow the lump in my throat, reminding myself once again of the $200.
    “We don’t have all day,” he grumps impatiently, moving the umbrella into place over a light to the left of the backdrop.
    Apprehensively, I stretch out an arm to pull back the curtain, holding my breath as I do so. My eyes widen, a bright smile beams from my face as I sigh a huge breath of relief. “Puppies!” I squeal.
    He gasps as if the word is the most repugnant one on earth. “Pick one,” he adds sternly.
    “They’re so adorable,” I note, ignoring his sour attitude. I step over the waist-high fence, dodging a stray puddle as I do so. I’m rushed by at least a dozen puppies, ranging in breeds. I stumble back, landing on my bottom with a thud. A smattering of wet puppy kisses come at me like a tidal wave.
    I can hear the “Humph!” across the room. I fight the urge to tell him to ‘suck it up, buttercup.’ Knowing that’s probably the quickest way to not replenish my bank account, I hold my tongue.
    “Sorry,” I giggle, avoiding the numerous tongues, trying to angle their way into my open mouth. I struggle to my knees, wrestling the first wriggling puppy I can grasp under my arm. It appears it might have chow in it, but definitely a mixed breed.
    I cross back over the barrier with the pup tucked snuggly in my grasp. It’s quickly evident this dog seems to be hopped up on caffeine or some other less than legal substance. I decide the only way he’s going to pose is if I can manage to get him to calm down.
    “Do you have any chew toys?” I ask.
    “Really?” Aiden asks with the camera pressed into his hip as he impatiently waits for me.
    I bite my lip, telling myself again I need to remain quiet, but I can’t. I was hired to do a job, and this is part of my job. I frown. “Look, these dogs are about to explode with energy. Do you want to be able to get a decent shot of them?”
    His chin drops. I like that I’ve, if only briefly, left him at a loss for words.
    “Do you have anything I can use to tire him out?” I ask again.
    He huffs, then begrudgingly nods, placing the camera on the window ledge near him. “Uh—yeah, I think the shelter left a box of stuff when they dropped them off.”
    My insides melt into goo when I hear the revelation that these beautiful specimens of fur-babies are shelter lovelies. Aiden grabs a cardboard box next to the pen of now whimpering and yapping puppies. He lifts one leg over the wall and then the other.
    “Watch out for the—” I start. Before I can finish my statement, as if in slow motion, I watch in horror as both his feet slip and slide upward, out from under him, the box landing on his chest as he hits the floor, sending squeaky toys flying in every direction.
    “Shit!” he exclaims, coming down with a thud.
    I wince. “I was