Page 4 of Marcelo

Winnie's eyes widen, but she doesn't crumble or panic. Instead, her chin tilts upward, determination shining through. "Alright, how can I help? Tell me what you need."

For a split second, I'm taken aback. I had expected apprehension, maybe even a hint of anxiety. But her immediate shift into problem-solving mode, her readiness to pivot and adapt, is both refreshing and surprising. Maybe there’s more to her than just her bubbly personality.

"We'll need to reconfigure the space, sort out supplies, and coordinate with Larksville to ensure a smooth transition."

She nods, processing the information quickly. "Got it. Let's do this together." She looks around, her gaze sharp and analytical. "If we move those crates over there and set up a temporary holding area here, we can easily accommodate at least thirty more."

It's a good plan, a complement to my own way of thinking. She's quick on her feet, her adaptability meshing well with my attention to detail.

And as we discuss the new arrangements, I find my gaze lingering on her again, not just in appreciation of her problem-solving skills but also the curve of her lips, the warmth of her eyes, the way her hair falls around her face. I can't deny it: she's stunning.

Her voice breaks into my thoughts, "You okay there, Marcelo?"

Caught off guard again, I clear my throat, "Yeah, let's get to work."

But even as we jump into action, I can't help but think that this hurricane might be stirring up more than even I had planned for.

Chapter 3

Winnie

The shelter buzzes with activity, but within this vast, echoing space, it's just Marcelo and me, tucked away in a corner surrounded by supplies. We’ve made arrangements for the new influx of animals from Larksville, but now we need to ensure we have enough supplies to care for them and can access everything we need.

"We've got our work cut out for us," I comment, noting the piles before us.

He nods, and his deep brown eyes flicker with amusement and challenge. "Let's get to it."

Working side by side, there's a strange but palpable tension. The close proximity means our arms brush occasionally, sending little jolts up my spine. He smells faintly of aftershave and something naturally musky.

As I organize, memories surface. "You know, I once rescued a stray as a teenager," I start, and I can't help but notice his gaze turning more intent, more focused on me. "Found him in the rain. I desperately wanted to keep him, but my dad’s political obligations made it impossible."

Marcelo pauses, placing a box on the floor. "What did you name him?”

I laugh to myself. “How did you know I named him?”

“Call it a hunch,” he says. “You seem like that type of person.”

The comment makes me glance up. His eyes are fixed on mine, a playful smirk on his full lips. “Chance,” I tell him.

“Chance?” he asks. “Like, ‘not a chance?’”

I purse my lips at him. “Or like, ‘second chance.’ Everyone deserves one.” He grunts noncommittally at that, making me wonder, "What about you? Ever had a soft spot for a helpless animal?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering. "I volunteered at an animal sanctuary once. A few summers ago. It was... different. I was more into the organizing side of things. Planning feeding schedules, ensuring all the enclosures were up to standards. The unpredictability of animals isn't my thing, but ensuring they have what they need? I could do that."

I raise an eyebrow. "And here you are, surrounded by them again. Irony?”

A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “Life’s funny that way, isn’t it?”

"Certainly is," I reply, nudging him playfully, but there’s an undercurrent of something more, something electric, between us.

“Life, animals... people,” he adds, his voice husky as he looks at me with a different intensity. The weight of the moment settles between us, thick and tangible.

I swallow, a little flustered. "Every experience teaches us something, right?"

The rustling of hurried steps interrupts our bubble of connection. I turn to see a volunteer, a young woman clutching a shivering and scared-looking cat. Its eyes are wide, darting around with raw fear.

"We just found her," the volunteer pants, clearly flustered. "She's terrified, and I didn't know what to do."