by Jill Shalvis
“Because you’re a good guy.”
“Not that good.”
“Wyatt.”
His hooded gaze met hers. “I’m not making any promises.”
Oh boy.
He kissed the tip of her nose and backed up to let her out from between him and the wall.
“All bets are off if you sext me again,” he said.
“I won’t!”
“That’s too bad,” he murmured, sounding disappointed, and then, recovering with shocking ease, he took his sexy ass back inside.
Emily didn’t recover nearly so quickly.
* * *
The next morning, Sammy was once again at the bottom step waiting for Emily. Finding him there, she felt a little stab in the region of her heart. She’d put out a pie tin the night before with lettuce and a few strawberries on it.
Sammy had a red stain around his mouth, assuring her he’d enjoyed the goods. And just in case she couldn’t tell, he reached out with one claw and banged on the tin.
She laughed. “Okay, but if you start biting my ankles like Q-Tip does, I’ll—”
“Feed him faster?” Sara asked wryly, coming up behind her. She was dressed for work in cargo shorts, her usual wife-beater, and steel-toed boots. “Your menagerie’s food bill is going to be bigger than ours.”
“I’ve told you,” Emily said. “Q-Tip belongs to the house, and Sammy isn’t mine.”
Sammy banged on the tin again and Sara laughed. “Right,” she said, heading down the walk toward her truck. “Whatever lets you sleep at night, Dr. Doolittle.”
Emily’s day was like most of the others. The variety of animals they saw here at Belle Haven on a daily basis never failed to amaze her. Today alone she’d seen a llama, and then an ostrich.
The challenge came from trying to help patients who couldn’t talk, point to what hurt, and tell her what was wrong.
And then there was the stress. Some of this came from being a thousand miles away from her father when his number popped up on her cell phone. Standing in an exam room with Wyatt and Dell admiring a new litter of kittens that had been born overnight and brought in to be checked, she looked down at her buzzing phone and froze. He never called mid-week. She must’ve made some sort of giveaway expression because Wyatt and Dell both looked at her.
“My dad,” she said.
“Take it,” Wyatt told her. “We’re done for the day, anyway.”
Dell nodded. “Go ahead and take off.”
She stepped into the hallway and answered. “Dad, you okay?”
“Have you seen my iPod?”
She was stunned into momentarily silence. “Dad, I’ve been gone six weeks.”
“Well, I know that,” he said, sounding irritated now. “What do you think, that I’m going crazy?”
She paced to the end of the hall and stared at the wall in front of her, not seeing the framed certificates of all the various degrees and awards that the men who worked here had obtained. All she could see was her father standing in the living room that she knew by now probably qualified for an episode of Hoarders. He’d be in his baggy khakis and wrinkled shirt, lab coat opened, pockets stuffed, scratching his head as he turned in a baffled circle looking at the mess around him.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” she said. “I think you’re probably working yourself into the ground without looking up. Have you been eating?”
“Today?”
She resisted thunking her head to the wall. “Dad.”
“Kiddin’, pumpkin. I ate. I nuked one of those frozen breakfasts you have Mrs. Rodriguez stuff into my freezer every week. You know, I can do my own food shopping.”
She let out a breath, relieved to hear good humor in his voice. “I know you can, the question is will you?”
“I’m fine, Emily. I can feed myself. Last week’s oven fire was a total fluke.”
She froze for a beat, mentally calculating the balance in her bank account versus what she had available on her credit card for a last minute fare to L.A.
“Emily, I’m kidding. I haven’t even used the oven. You take such great care of me that I haven’t had to.” There was love and affection in his voice, and she sighed again, softening.
“I just worry,” she said.
“Well, don’t. That’s my job.”
“But—”
“Your job’s to enjoy your year in God’s country,” he said. “Speaking of which, aren’t you on the job right now?”
“Yes.”
“Well if you don’t know where my iPod is, get back to it. I’ve got to get to the shelter, it’s free adoption night. We’ve got pizza coming and everything.”
He was already gone, she could tell, distracted by the night ahead. “Okay, Dad. I’ll talk to you soon. Love—” But she could tell he’d already disconnected. “—you.”
It was dusk, with dark quickly closing in. Needing to clear her head before she hit the road for the night, Emily stepped out the back door. It was indeed “God’s country” as her father had said.
With the sun already behind the Bitterroot mountains, the amazing, rugged peaks cast shadows hundreds of miles across the valley floor.
She pulled out her cell again. She hit Sara’s number as she leaned against the fencing of the horse pen and took in the beauty sprawled out for thousands and thousands of majestic acres before her.
“Hey,” Sara answered, sounding harried. “I’m on a third-story roof with a crew, this better be good.”
“Oh my God. Why did you answer your phone if you’re on a third-story roof? Hang up.”
Sara laughed. “I’m fine. I’m roped in. Got a crew around me. A bunch of shirtless men, too. Too bad it’s totally wasted on me.”
“I talked to Dad.”
“He still can’t find his iPod?” Sara asked.
Emily sighed. “He called you first.”
“I was less likely to freak out on him.”
“I didn’t freak out.” Emily paused. “Much.”
Sara laughed.
“I don’t think he’s eating, Sara. And—”
“Honey, he’s fine. He’s happy. Stop borrowing trouble.”
“I think we should fly to visit him this weekend,” Emily said.
“And I think you should have some chocolate. Or get laid. Listen, I get that you’re lonely, and I swear I’ll pretend to watch So You Think You Can Dance with you tonight but for now, I really am on a roof, so . . .”
Emily sighed and ended the call. She inhaled some really fresh air before she felt a nudge.
Reno, Adam’s horse, looking for goodies.
Emily searched her pockets and came up with nothing. “Sorry, baby.”
Reno snorted.
“I know, rude of me.” Emily sat on a fallen log and leaned back. When she was little, she’d loved to try to star watch. In L.A., this was tricky because of all the city lights, not to mention smog. Doing it here, in the land of the big sky, was a whole new ball game. “I’m not lonely,” she said to the horse, who snorted again and swished his tail.
“Good. Cuz you’re not alone.”
Two long legs came into her peripheral. Wyatt crouched at her side and looked into her face. “How’s your dad?”
“Fine,” she said.
He nodded. “And you?”
“I’m fine, too,” she said.
Nodding again, he sat on the log at her side and leaned back, presumably to look at whatever she was looking at. “Pretty night.”
His shoulder and a part of his chest brushed her arm and shoulder. Actually it was more like he was encircling her within his arm span, which was considerable. It was a guy move, an alpha guy move, and it made her feel . . . protected.
She was getting far too used to that, she thought with a sigh.
“I smell something burning,” he said.
“Where is everyone?”
“Gone,” he said, and there was an odd quality to his voice that had her taking a second look at him. He didn’t take his g
aze off the sky so she got him in profile, the tousled hair, the fine lines crinkling the corners of his eyes from long days out in the sun, the square, scruffy jaw, and broad shoulders built to take on the weight of the world.
He’d been working his ass off, here at Belle Haven, helping Dell take up the slack for the out-of-town Jade, and then going home and helping his sisters with the monstrous house they were fixing up. He did so much for everyone, and she found herself wanting to do something for him. Make him smile. Make him relax. Make him forget, even for a few minutes . . . She nudged him with her shoulder.
He nudged her back and turned to look at her then, his eyes dark and unfathomable behind his glasses.
Chickening out, she turned her head this time, and stared up at the sky as he had been only a few seconds before.
“Emily.”
When she didn’t tear her gaze off the stars, he leaned in and nipped her ear.
Sucking in a breath, she looked at him again. His gaze was still dark, but there were things swirling in those dark depths now. Need. Heat.
Affection.
He stole her breath.
“Let the record state,” she said, reaching out to snatch off his glasses, “that I don’t always make the first move.”
He blinked in momentary confusion, and probably also because he could no longer see. He opened his mouth to say something, but she sank her fingers into his hair and kissed him, hard and long and deep.
“Emily,” he said when they broke for air, his voice rough and husky.
She climbed into his lap and then pushed him backward off the log so that he fell to his back in the wild grass with her straddling him.
Laughing, he slid his hands beneath her top and up her back, drawing out a delicious shiver from her. Then his hands slid slowly down her spine, and into the backs of her jeans. “Let the record also state,” he said in a delicious growl, “who made the rest of the moves.”
“Please say that it’s you,” she whispered hopefully.
He rolled, tucking her beneath him, making himself right at home between her thighs. “Got it in one,” he said against her mouth.
* * *
When Emily got home much, much later, Sara gave her a brow’s up from the couch.
“Worked late,” Emily said.
“Uh-huh.” Sara got up and picked a piece of wild grass from her hair.
“Work hazard,” Emily said, thinking of what’d happened between her and Wyatt in the wild grass by burgeoning moonlight—and then again in the staff bathroom where he’d bent her over the counter.
Sara studied her face. “Right.”
“Did you see Sammy when you got here?”
“No.”
Worry niggled at her. She dropped her purse and went back outside, walking to the edge of the grass.
“What are you doing” Sara asked.
“Nothing.”
“Liar. You’re looking for your turtle.”
“He’s not my turtle. Sammy,” she called, wading into the grass. “Sammy?”
When he appeared at her feet, she had to sit down on the step in relief. “Oh God,” she said. “He’s totally my turtle.”
Sara sat next to her. “Yep.”
“This is how it starts, isn’t it?” Emily, having bad flashbacks to their house growing up, filled with the rescues her father could never bear to let go, shook her head. “We keep him, and then the next thing you know, I’ve also brought home a dog, a cat, a sheep, and an iguana.”
Sara went brows up. “Iguana?”
“It could happen. I’ve lost control. Every surface of this place’ll be covered with cages and crap. We’ll be a zoo.”
“I don’t actually think we have approval for that from our landlord,” Sara said, looking amused. Her smile faded. “You’re not going to turn into him, you know. Dad. And so what if you did? He saved a lot of animals over the years. Hell, babe, have you looked in the mirror lately? You became a damn vet.”
“I love animals,” Emily said. “I just plan to have a life as well.”
“I know,” Sara said. “Everyone knows about your damn plan. How many days left?”
“Three hundred and twenty-seven.” Emily looked at Sammy. He was watching her with his obsidian eyes, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was some judgment there. She picked him up. “You’ll be in good hands,” she promised him.
But would he? Would the new tenant of this house feed him, look out for him? Not mow the lawn so as to avoid accidentally killing him? And what about Q-Tip?
Or her own heart?
“Uh-oh,” Sara said. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re at the edge of a cliff peering down.”
Emily blew out a breath. “I made a tactical error tonight with Wyatt.” She paused. “Horizontally.”
Sara laughed. “Again?”
Emily sighed and stroked Sammy’s head. He gazed up at her adoringly, or so she wanted to think. Probably he was hoping for more strawberries. “Just like a man,” she said to him. “Flashing me the eyes to get what you want.”
Sara took Sammy from Emily and set him down. “Emily,” she said solemnly. “I thought we had this talk.”
“I know. Me becoming an animal collector isn’t a sign that I’m going to go bat-shit crazy like Dad—”
“No. You’re not bat-shit crazy at all. You’re just a woman who’s always given everything to the people in her life who she loves, who’s always looked out for everyone but herself, and now maybe you’re a little lost, that’s all.”
“The lost part might be true,” Emily whispered.
“So, Dr. Sexy?”
Emily covered her face with her hands. “It’s not my fault. He’s just . . .” Everything.
Sara reached out and pulled Emily’s hands from her face. “He’s your supervisor. He shouldn’t be coming on to you.”
“You don’t understand.” Emily huffed out a mirthless laugh. “It’s not Wyatt coming on to me. I’m the one who can’t control myself!”
Sara hugged her. “It’s okay,” she said. “You can tell me the truth. I’ll bury the body deep.”
Emily laughed again. “I realize you’re not attracted to hot and sexy men, so you’re going to have to trust me on this one. It’s all on me.”
Sara was quiet for a long beat, considering. “Well, I still think you need to talk to him. Tell him that this isn’t fun and games for you, that you’re going to get hurt.”
“I can’t do that,” Emily said. “I’ve told him time and time again that this isn’t in my plan. I’m trying to ignore his damn
