Free Race Against Time by Kimberly, Kayla Woodhouse Page A

what he did? Could he ever have that same passion? A long moment passed as Anesia punched in a code, opened the gate—and the yearning in his soul grew.
    She ushered him in and closed the gate. “You might want to stay here and watch for a few minutes. They need to get used to your smell. Otherwise, they’ll be all over you.”
    “Okay.” He heeded her words. The sight in front of him was overwhelming, to say the least.
    Dogs as far as the eye could see. Jumping, running in circles, and barking in glee at their master. The doghouses were all lined up in rows—one house for each dog. A steel pole stood beside each house, and the dogs were attached to their pole by a long chain. Long enough to give them a wide circle of running room around their houses, but short enough to keep them out of each other’s domain.
    Sean couldn’t help but chuckle at the antics of these prized animals. Some circled their house over and over, while others jumped in the air, onto their doghouses, or attempted flips to get Anesia’s attention. The cacophony of barking would have driven any of his Boston friends mad and sent them reaching for their earplugs.
    Working her way up and down the rows, she spent time with each dog, loving on them, talking to them, rubbing their ears. And they adored her. They licked and barked, and nuzzled up to her.
    He allowed his gaze to roam over the acre of enclosed property and understood the job with a clarity he hadn’t anticipated. These dogs were her livelihood. But they weren’t just dogs. They were family. Several times she stopped and knelt beside one, checking paws, feeling limbs, looking over their coat. Each one needed care and attention.
    He looked to the far end of the kennel and noticed smaller, separate fenced-in areas. He walked toward them to check them out.
    “Those are the isolation kennels.” Anesia fell into step beside him.
    “Isolation?”
    “Yes. For the dogs in heat that we don’t want to breed at the time, for an injured dog, or for a misbehaving dog that might be bullying or hurting others.”
    “So, in a way, it’s like what some parents call a time-out?”
    “Very astute, Mr. Connolly.” Anesia laughed. “Exactly like that, yes.”
    “In essence, you have another seventy-five children.”
    She leaned her head back and laughed louder. A beautiful sound. “Sean, you crack me up.” She smacked him on the arm. “I think you’ll fit in fine.”
    Her acceptance warmed but unsettled him all at the same time.
    “Come. Meet the dogs.” Anesia took hold of his arm and tugged him toward the yapping masses.
    Stopping just beyond the reach of the nearest dog, Anesia held out her arms. “Well, here they are.” Her face absolutely glowed. This was her love. Her life. “The chains have colors on them, do you see?”
    Very interesting. “I do now. Why are they colored?”
    “Helps us keep track of the different litters. All the dogs from a litter are given a color. The blue chains are the Bible Litter. The green are the Glacier Litter. The pink, the Painkiller Litter—”
    He frowned. “Painkiller?”
    Her dark eyes twinkled. “Yep. Zoya names all the dogs. That particular litter was born after a friend was in the hospital.”
    “So what are their names?”
    “Morphine, Aspirin, Ibuprofen, Percocet, Codeine, and Caffeine.”
    “Caffeine?” He furrowed his brow. “I didn’t know that was a painkiller.”
    “In Alaska, Sean, you’ll find out that caffeine can cure just about anything.”
    He couldn’t help it. He grinned.
    Anesia continued down the rows. He followed. Just like a puppy himself.
    “The red are the Sweets Litter, yellow is the Weather Litter. Over here, in orange, is the Flower Litter, purple is the Wildlife Litter, white is the Herb Litter, black is the Ice Cream Litter, and the multicolored chains are the Alaska Litter.”
    “What about those two rows over there?”
    “Those are the two that are sold to a man from Iceland. He won’t be here for