A Feral Darkness by Doranna Durgin

Listening to you get straight to the point."
           "It's better that way—I don't get a very long break." She flashed an annoyed look at him. "Why," she repeated, "are you having coffee here ? Why does your presence make Roger deliriously happy? And why do you look at me that way—" for he'd done it in the parking lot, too, more or less, "—and don't deny it."
           He withstood the barrage with no change of expression, aside from one barely discernable wince when the coffee touched his split lip.
           Maybe it would leave a scar, she thought, and gave it some hope.
           He leaned back in the rickety chair, wincing again, but ignoring her blatant scrutiny of his physical woes. "I'm having coffee here because I'm here . I'm here because I'm trying to arrange the necessary layout to hold obedience classes in this store. Roger's happy because he thinks the classes will increase the customer base, and because he didn't think he'd talk me into signing on since I don't need his customer base."
      "Then why did you? Sign on, I mean." Straight to the point, why not. "And don't think I didn't notice you didn't answer my last question."
           "The church I used to work out of not only raised their rates, they kept taking my class space at the last minute." Straight to the point, right back at her. And there was something in his voice that let her know he answered because he chose to, and not necessarily just because she'd asked. "Roger made me a better offer."
           No doubt. Brenna had gotten one of those herself, luring her away from her last job. And she'd questioned Roger carefully about her professional concerns, all of which he had assured her would never happen—and every one of which now occurred on a daily or weekly basis.
           But let Gil Masera find that out for himself.
           "The faces ," Masera said bluntly, "are because I don't like big commercial grooming set-ups. I've seen the way the dogs are handled in those situations. I've even picked up the pieces."
           Brenna's composure slipped. "You've never even seen me work! And you've probably picked up the pieces of what happens when a dog doesn't even see a brush until it's so matted that the owners drop off the mess for someone else to deal with, all while demanding that the dog's coat be saved."
           "I've seen enough," he said, not narrowing his eyes so much as lowering the lids in a way that might have made someone else look sleepy but just made him look like a big cat waiting to pounce.
           "You come work in the tub room for a week, you want to say anything like that about this grooming room," Brenna said, her bangs sliding into her face with her emphatic words. She brushed at them in an automatic gesture and poofed them away for good measure, sitting back in the folding chair. "Are you always this abrasive?"
           "It's a gift," he said, watching her. "Sometimes it suits me."
           She quite definitely didn't know what to make of him. Under Russell's expectant stare she often kept silent, promising herself she'd do things her way as soon as he looked away—which never took long. But now...there was some unspoken challenge in Masera's scrutiny, and she gave him an even look in return. Standing behind what she'd said, the good and the bad of it both.
           Still, it came as a relief when the door swung open, interrupting their temporarily silent exchange. Sammi Grozny of the People Placing Pets rescue group came in, hunting down a soda. PePP held weekly adoption days out of Pets!, during which the volunteers juggled various cats and dogs, made sure unsupervised kids didn't poke Fido's eyes out, diplomatically discouraged the people who wanted simply to walk away with a new pet, and encouraged the owner-prospects to fill out the initial questionnaire in the process of adoption. Saints, in other words, or so Brenna had always thought.