Marina Adair - Need You for Keeps (St. Helena Vineyard #6)

by Unknown

  “Are you calling to explain why you haven’t accepted my friend request?” Adam said by way of greeting.

  “No, I’m calling to see if any of your guys are looking for some overtime the Saturday after next.”

  It was usually the sheriff’s department that handled this kind of town event, but it wasn’t unheard of to reach out to other qualified county departments in a pinch. And since Jonah was officially heading up the team, he could use his discretion.

  “Is this for your pretty neighbor’s charity event?”

  “How did you know about it?”

  “Facebook, man. Facebook.” He could practically hear Adam shaking his head. “Nora posted that Shay’s wearing something from the Boulder Holder in the walk-a-thon, so count me in.”

  “You’re not invited,” he clarified. “But I need three guys.” Jonah thought of Adam’s friends: smooth, good looking, even better with the ladies. “Three of the fattest, oldest guys in the house. And they have to be married.”

  “Since when is ‘married’ a requirement?”

  “Since now. You going to help me or not?”

  “You going to accept my friend request?”

  After getting the names of a few guys Adam thought might need the extra cash, Jonah hung up, then went to Facebook. He accepted Adam’s friend request so he wouldn’t have to hear him whine like a little girl, then posted a picture on Adam’s page of Yodel in a tutu that was taken from behind and typed, It’s not a cat.

  Look at that. His first post.

  It was nearly five when Shay ushered the second-to-last of the fans out the door. The day had been a success. Warren had drawn the crowd, but it was her dogs that were the stars of the event, winning over the hearts of the ladies. One lady in particular.

  Mrs. Moberly sat at the back of the shop, where she’d been for the past twenty minutes petting and talking to Boss, with his floppy ears and melt-your-soul eyes. Boss was a sucker for naps but at times craved being in the thick of the action and life. Shay had been holding out for a family with older kids. Placing him in a home where he’d be left alone during the working hours wouldn’t work with his personality. And although Mrs. Moberly would make a great doggie mommy, as the town’s head librarian, she worked long hours.

  “Boss doesn’t do well with being alone for long periods of time. He’s a cuddler, needs constant companionship,” Shay explained, because it wasn’t about placing an animal with a family. For Shay, the process went deeper. It was about matching the needs of the animal with the lifestyle of the family, being sure to make a successful pairing.

  St. Paws was eHarmony for the furry and four-legged.

  “I was thinking that Boss could come to work with me,” Mrs. Moberly explained, pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. “Most libraries have cats, but I think ours could use a dog, one that’s good with kids.”

  Mrs. Moberly could use a dog in her life too, Shay thought, watching the way she gravitated toward Boss, leaning her body into his. Boss, being one of the most intuitive dogs Shay had ever fostered, leaned back, giving the woman what she needed—affection. Uncomplicated, unconditional affection.

  “I have an application if you’d like to fill one out—wow, okay,” Shay said as Mrs. Moberly pulled an application from her handbag and handed it over. It was completely filled out, with a list of references attached to the bottom, and Boss written next to Pet of Interest. “This looks great. If you want, we can set up a time to meet somewhere neutral, like the park. It will give you a chance to see him in action and I can see how you two interact.”

  Because sweet as he was, Boss was not a dog that would chase a ball or roll over on cue—he wasn’t built to roll and moved like molasses. Then again, Mrs. Moberly was nearing retirement age and walked like she wore slugs for shoes.

  “If that is how this works,” the librarian said, looking down at Boss. “But I pretty much knew the second I saw him in the calendar that he was mine. It’s the eyes, they remind me of my husband.” She gave Boss a scratch behind the ears and he let out a groan of ecstasy. “I’ve been waiting for you to bring him to an event so I could see if he felt the same.”

  And Shay knew right then that she didn’t even need to read the rest of the application. Mrs. Moberly had just told her everything she needed to know.

  “I need to come by and do a house check,” Shay explained.

  Mrs. Moberly smiled. “Well, I’ll be sure to have some tea ready.”

  Shay said she’d drop by later in the week, and with one last hug, Mrs. Moberly left the shop, Boss whining when the door closed.

  “Well, look at that,” Shay said. “Impressing the ladies with those big eyes.” Eyes that looked up at Shay and hit her straight in the gut. Another good-bye so close to the last was going to make this a hard week.

  Suck it up, this is your job.

  With that reminder, she locked up the shop, leashed her pack, and walked to the soon-to-be St. Paws Rescue. She wanted to tally up her daily earnings and account for it on the Coat Crusader’s chart before the couch arrived.

  It was silly. She’d estimated that she only pulled in around four hundred bucks today, but that was four hundred bucks more than she’d had this morning. It was also a quarter of a line that she got to fill in, taking her one step closer to high fiving the Coat Crusader—and to becoming a real St. Helena resident with staying power.

  Shay slid the key into the lock and smiled as the bells jingled on the front door. Signing on that dotted line for the lease had been a terrifying thought, but now that she’d done it, she felt free. It was hard to explain, but somehow forcing herself to stick around gave her the courage to believe that she could make a life for herself here.

  She unleashed her brood, and they took off running in different directions—except for Boss, who moseyed over to the first chair and plopped down beneath it to watch Jabba shove Socks out of the way to get the leftover kibble at the bottom of the bowl Shay had brought over.

  The shop still needed lots of work, but it was slowly coming together. The walls were now a playful yellow and the trim, which she’d stayed up last night finishing, was a crisp white.

  Woof. Woof. Jabba alerted Shay to the dire emergency at hand—the bowl was seriously short on kibble. Then he eyed Socks as if to pass the blame on to the five-pound ball of powder-white fur, who looked more like a Shrinky-Dinked Ewok than a dog.

  “Uh-huh, and I bet you had nothing to do with it disappearing,” Shay accused, picking up the bowl. Jabba snorted his innocence. “I’ve got more in the back.”

  With a quick pet to the dogs, she strode into the back room and gasped.

  Her couch was already there—and it was perfect. Big enough to hold an entire family of four, yet its L shape hugged the wall in the new meet-and-greet room and left plenty of room for floor play. It was also currently occupied.

  Jonah leaned against the cushions, his arms casually strewn across the back of the couch as though he owned the space. And the man looked good owning her space. Dressed in a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a soft-looking blue collared shirt that had the sleeves rolled to the forearms, and a little sweat from the hot afternoon, he looked like a magazine ad for sex.

  “What are you doing here?” Shay asked, hoping that he said sex, because now that she’d seen him on her couch, she couldn’t think of anything else.

  She followed his gaze to the counter to her right. And there, sitting on a crystal platter, three tiers high with yellow creamy frosting smoothed over the top and sides, was the most amazing lemon-iced fig cake she’d ever seen.

  “You made me a cake?”

  He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and chuckled. “No. I brought you a cake. Clovis made it. After three failed attempts, and one visit from the fire department, I bribed her into making me one.”

  Shay walked closer, stopping a few feet from the edge of the couch—and him. “And did you bribe her to let you in?”

  “No, I was dropping off papers across the
street when I saw a couple of delivery guys trying to navigate this mammoth in through the door.” He patted the seat of the couch and she wondered if he was asking her to join him—for sex.

  Hot couch sex.

  “And since Clovis was harping about not scratching the walls, and unlawful entry isn’t my thing, I offered to help.” Shay watched as he considered that for a moment and seemed to give extra consideration to the tie at the waist of her wraparound dress. “But with you I always seem to want to ignore the rules.”

  She liked the sound of that. A lot. “Ignoring the rules can be fun.”

  “They can also lead to trouble,” he said and then smiled.

  “Trouble can be fun.”

  Fire flickered in his eyes, telling her she was the exact kind of trouble he was looking for. Reaching out, he cupped her hip and slowly drew her toward him. He parted his legs to make room for her and—pow, all she could think about was hot couch sex.

  The kind that led to naked bodies sticking to the leather.

  To each other.

  And more than anything she wanted to stick with Jonah. Stick to him all night, well into the morning, and maybe for longer. His always-ready attitude and attention to detail would make him the rock star of hot couch sex, but the way he touched her as though she were special, someone to be treasured, made her want to be the kind of woman Jonah would stick with.

  “Do you know what this couch is for?” she asked.

  He shook his head, his palms moving from her hips to her lower back, scooting her closer.

  “It’s the wishing couch,” she explained.

  “Wishing couch?” he asked but there was no mockery in his tone, just a deep interest in her answer—a deep interest in her.

  “Most people come into a shelter with a pretty good idea of what they are looking for in a companion, but then they gravitate toward the one that has the highest cute factor, never once taking into account what that kind of companion needs.” She’d seen it a thousand times, and it never ended happily—for anyone. “Let’s say someone comes in looking for a lap dog to keep them company at night and maybe go to the park with them on the weekends, but then they see a cute terrier in the window and instantly fall in love. They don’t care that terriers were bred to be herders or that they love to climb and are by nature in constant motion. All they see is small and cute.”

  “And they want the terrier.”

  “At least they think they do,” she said quietly. “But one too many times of coming home from work to find their shoes chewed to bits or their couch destroyed, the cute starts to fade, and eventually something has to give.” Sadly, it usually led to giving up the dog. “Because no matter how much that couple wants their terrier to be a lazy lap dog, they’ll never be one.”

  “Because the dog is a terrier, and even though he never pretended to be anything else, he loses out,” Jonah supplied, and suddenly Shay didn’t feel like they were talking about the terrier anymore.

  “So to help eliminate any potential buyer’s remorse, I bought a wishing couch, where people sit and tell me what they are looking for in a pet. Not on the cuteness scale but on the compatibility scale. I listen to what they are saying, and more importantly what they aren’t saying, then I assess what pets I have that they’d be a good match for. And one by one I bring them in and have a little get-to-know-you session without all the pressure of the adorableness that happens in the front room.”

  “Smart.” His gaze met hers in a way that left her feeling completely exposed. “And takes a lot of time on your part.”

  She lifted a shoulder, her hands fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “It cuts down on returns.”

  After the lives they’d had, Shay wanted to make sure that none of her pets ever felt unwanted again.

  “I’m sitting on the wishing couch, Shay,” he said, his hands spanning each hip as he ran them down her thighs, stopping at the hem of her dress, then back up and—oh my—under. His rough skin on hers gave her a head-to-toe shiver. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?”

  “What do you want, Jonah?”

  “You,” he said, his voice so raw and honest, Shay didn’t know how to respond. Flirty, casual, that’s what she had expected. But Jonah had just taken this to a place she wasn’t sure how to navigate. “I want you.”

  It was those three words she’d felt like she’d waited a lifetime to hear. Sure, there were the other three words that also started with I and ended in you. But even though she walked around with her heart on a plate when it came to her pets, Shay was a realist when it came to herself and had accepted long ago that she didn’t have the love-you gene when it came to people.

  Not that Jonah was looking for love, or even if he was, that he’d find it in her, but he was looking for something that she could relate to—connection.

  A way to ease the loneliness. And that she could handle.

  “How do you want me?” she teased, trying to bring a lightness to the moment, bring it back to safe. Her hands went to the tie of her dress, dancing over the knot.

  Jonah reached out and stilled her hands, drawing her close. He met her gaze, his serious and heavy. “Exactly how you are.”

  Shay stilled, her heart stopping right there in the meet-and-greet room, afraid to beat because she’d heard it all before. But Jonah said it with so much conviction, she wanted to believe him. Wanted to find the courage to ask him the one question that, in the past, hadn’t worked out for her so well.

  Over the years, lots of people had wanted Shay for lots of different reasons, but the only person who had ever wanted her for who she really was had been her mother.

  And Shay desperately needed to remember what being wanted felt like, without the fear of being returned. At least for one night.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he whispered without hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  Shay didn’t know what to say, not that she got a chance to respond. One minute she was standing and the next she was using his lap as her own personal seat, her knees straddling his thighs as he kissed her.

  And kissed her.

  And, oh my God, the man had lips that could make a grown woman cry. Or maybe it was the gentle way he cradled her face that made this grown woman want to cry. Because even though she was flush with him, all their good parts pressed together, right there for the taking, he didn’t shift course, didn’t cop a feel or go straight for the goods. Nope, Jonah took his sweet time to gently caress, explore her lips, as though he was trying to tell her she was worth his time, worth getting to know.

  He held her in a way that was completely unexpected, and it took her by surprise. It was sweet and slightly erotic, and felt so right a small burst of hope welled up in her chest and spread, because Jonah was taking the time to show her that she was special.

  To him, in this moment, Shay Michaels was special.

  Ignoring the warning bells going off in her head, Shay gave herself over to the experience. Let the what-ifs and fears of tomorrow be left for tomorrow and gave herself wholly to this moment. To this man.

  Jonah must have felt her change, felt the shift in her body, because with a groan he tightened his arms around her and slid his tongue across the seam of her mouth. She opened to him immediately, opening everything to him, including her heart.

  “I want you too,” she admitted against his lips, breaking the kiss.

  “How do you want me?” he asked, his forehead to hers, and for the first time Shay heard doubt in his voice. Jonah was as nervous as she was. She’d never thought about it, but Jonah hadn’t dated all that much since she’d moved to town. In fact, she couldn’t remember a single girl who stuck around for more than a few weeks—and she’d been watching.

  Having a job that demanded everything one had to give, and being on call 24/7 couldn’t be easy on relationships. It would make for a very lonely road—and that was something Shay could relate to.

&nb
sp; “I want you however I can get you,” she said, meaning it. His job was as much a part of him as her animals were to her. It was one of his most appealing traits—the level at which he gave of himself to his town. “Although I’d prefer you naked.”

  “You first.” He smiled, his hands giving a gentle tug on the belt at her waist. The fabric untwined itself and the dress parted right up the middle, exposing a strip of bare skin, but Jonah held it there, staring at a hint of flesh and black lace.

  The longer he looked, the harder he became beneath her, and the hotter she got until she was sure she was one breath away from an orgasm. An orgasm she desperately deserved.

  “Jonah,” she said, her hands going for the edges of the dress.

  “Give me a minute,” he begged. Begged. “I only get to do this once.”

  He wasn’t going to get to do it at all if he didn’t move along. With a long exhale, he slowly pulled the dress open, and the look on his face was worth it.

  “Holy Christ, I knew you were . . .” He traced a finger over the lace edging and to the clasp in the middle. “Damn, Trouble. This is better than I imagined. And trust me when I say I’ve been imagining so much lately that I am afraid this might not last long.”

  “Then I guess we’d better get to it,” she said, giving a shimmy of the shoulders and sending the dress puddling to the floor.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  In one breath his hands were on her ass, pulling her to him and flipping them around until she was on the couch and he was on his knees before her. Looking his fill while completely clothed.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting to it,” he said firmly, and before she could object, his shirt was on the floor, his pants unzipped, while his gaze roamed up her body, locking on hers. “Now, you going to let me do my job? Or do I need to pull out the cuffs?”

  The only answer he got from her was a moan, low and throaty, and so needy she would have been embarrassed if that talented mouth of his wasn’t doing an insane little nip and flick combination a scant millimeter above the little bow of her panties.