Thankful for You by Cindy Spencer Pape Page B

he might as well go into the hero business, the way things were looking. It was too bad none of this stupid celebrity nonsense came with anything useful—like say a real job offer. Then he wouldn’t care how many people pointed and stared. The scars weren’t ever going away, and he’d mostly gotten used to that. He didn’t need to be coddled. What he needed was to feel useful again. Besides, if he kept buying fish, he was going to need more than his disability pension to feed them all.
     
    ***
     
    The following Wednesday, Elsie dropped a few flakes into the aquarium holding three baby clownfish which had arrived that morning. All three attacked the food, determined to get their share, small fins swishing rapidly through the clean water of the tank. Their bright, cheerful colors never failed to make her smile. Owning a small-town pet shop might not be the most glamorous career, but Elsie loved coming to work every day, which hadn’t been true when she had been a big-city accountant. She hadn’t once regretted her move to this west Michigan town to take over the Pet Haven. After almost three years here, she’d become part of the local community in a way she never could have been in the Chicago rat race.
    “Brawwwwwwk!” Elsie almost dropped the bag of food as the raucous screech of a macaw echoed through the room.
    She caught her breath, and turned toward the sales counter and the giant parrot cage beside it. “Jeez, Bluebell, knock it off before you scare me out of my skin. You’ll get your breakfast after the fish are done.” For about the hundredth time, Elise wanted to kick herself for taking in the macaw when its elderly owner had passed away. Since parrots usually only bonded with one person in their lifetime, and hyacinth macaws were among the largest members of the parrot family, he was both loud and potentially dangerous. Sure, parrots were mostly vegetarian, but they had beaks that could open coconuts. An unwary admirer could easily lose a finger, which was why Bluebell’s cage was behind the counter, out of reach of curious customers, but right where he could squawk in Elsie’s ear.
    Bluebell—the most ridiculous name for such a big, demanding creature—shrieked again and Elsie groaned. “Knock it off, bird brain. I swear I’ll hunt the internet for a recipe for parrot fricassee.” She didn’t want to resort to migraine medication tonight. It always made her feel like crap the next day. At least she’d been able to lose the daily meds since coming to Haven.
    Bluebell made a noise like a raspberry. Apparently, he recognized an idle threat. Elsie turned back to the fish, humming a popular song along with the radio and ignoring the nattering in the background, until it rose to another squawk at the same time as the little brass bell above the front door chimed.
    “Hello to you too, Bluebell.” Sig Nowicki’s deep, rumbly voice was soft and full of affection. “Hi, Elsie. Did the clownfish come in?”
    “Right over here.” Her words came out breathy, shakier than she would have liked. Something about the wounded veteran always turned her knees to jelly. She wanted to take him home, feed him, and pet him like she did Bluebell, or the litter of abandoned kittens in the front window. Keep telling yourself that, you little liar , said the voice of her conscience. The way you want to pet him has nothing at all to do with kittens . She wasn’t into that kind of kinky.
    Bluebell cooed at Sig and butted his head against the bars of his cage. Sig reached across the desk with one long finger and rubbed the dark blue head. Elsie sighed. Bluebell was out of reach for most customers. Sig was an exception to the rule, standing well over six feet. His dark hair was still cut military short, exposing several red lines on his scalp, below his baseball cap. Despite his scarring, he was still handsome, and his big brown eyes were the kindest eyes Elsie had ever seen. He watched her with both, even though the