by Lori Foster
“He’s limping.”
Her heart softened more, this time in pity. “Looks a little rough around the edges, too. Poor guy.” Very slowly she got to her feet and pulled on her jeans.
Watching them both, the dog held back.
“No collar,” Garrett said, moving the flashlight over the mutt. “He’s loaded with ticks, a few scratches—”
“And that limp.”
“Yeah.” He went down to one knee. “You okay, guy? How friendly are you?”
That Garrett didn’t just try to run the stray off was almost enough to melt her knees. “Will you be okay here with him if I go get some food?”
“Yeah, but go slow.”
“I know.” She’d been around animals all her life. A hurt animal might take any sudden movements the wrong way. So she didn’t run, but she didn’t dawdle, either.
In the kitchen, she snatched a plastic bowl off the shelf and quickly emptied an entire package of bologna into it. On her way out, she turned on the back porch light. It helped only a little.
Garrett was now within a few inches of the dog, his hand extended.
If anything, the dog looked worried.
And desperate.
She was still a good distance away when he started sniffing the air. Smiling, she held the food out in front of her as she eased closer.
“Let me,” Garrett said, reaching back so she would hand the bowl to him.
The big protective lug.
“I know what I’m doing,” she reminded him. “I’m the expert.”
“Groomer,” he countered, but he didn’t interfere when she very slowly set the bowl down in front of the dog.
“Does that mean you want to pick the ticks off him?”
“Want to? No. But I’ll help.” Taking her hand, they both moved back to let the dog eat.
He emptied the bowl in a few big, noisy bites.
Zoey studied him, the small, mostly tan body with black and brown markings, the floppy ears, the soulful eyes. “He looks like a beagle-Jack Russell mix.”
“Still young,” Garrett agreed.
Now that the dog had solved one problem, it inched closer, sniffing.
“No more just yet, sweetie.” With apology, she said, “You’ll get sick.”
Garrett touched under the dog’s chin, and he let him. As if that broke the ice, the poor little thing limped closer, his tail thumping with hope.
Tears turned Zoey’s vision blurry. “I’m taking him in.”
Garrett smiled. “I already knew that.”
* * *
True to his word, Garrett stayed and helped. It was past midnight by the time they had the dog tick-free, bathed and a nasty thorn removed from between the pads of his front right paw.
Zoey put out fresh bedding, then put up a gate at the kitchen doorway. “Hopefully I can get a vet appointment tomorrow.”
“My uncle Jordan will fit him in.”
She’d forgotten that his uncle was a vet. “You don’t think he’d mind?”
“He’ll insist.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Garrett propped a shoulder on the wall. “I can meet you there first thing tomorrow morning if you want.”
So sweet. Smiling at him, Zoey stroked his biceps. She would never tire of touching him. Or looking at him. And hopefully more. Lots more. “If you’re free and want to join us, that’s fine. But if you’re busy, I can handle it.”
Now that the dog was clean, had eaten again and was given a fresh dish of water, he looked exhausted. After only a few cautious glances their way, he went to the corner of the kitchen where Zoey had made his bed, dug around, rearranged things, snuffled and kicked, and finally, after turning two circles, dropped down with a lusty sigh.
Garrett’s grin pleased her as much as the dog’s acceptance. She hadn’t planned on taking on even more responsibility, but the dog was here, and she’d make it work somehow.
“I like your house.”
Drawn from her thoughts, she looked around, seeing what he saw—cabinets that needed to be sanded and painted, cracked linoleum floors, watermarks on the ceilings.
His hands settled on her shoulders. “Every old house needs work. That’s part of the fun.”
She wondered if he really meant that. For her, it would be fun because it wasn’t just a house, it was a new beginning. “I’m looking forward to it. But the kitchen won’t be the first room.” She took his hand and started down the hall. “I’ve already done some work on my mother’s bedroom and bathroom, but I’d love your input on what still needs to be done.”
The dog slept on undisturbed. He must have really been tired. Thinking of him wounded and all alone tugged at her heart. But never again. She’d make sure he had enough love to recover.
As they went through the modest house, Garrett offered nice compliments on every room she showed him. Like her, he focused more on the unique qualities of the older home, instead of what needed to be done. She loved that he felt the same as she did about it.
Midway through the tour he suggested she get a pen and paper so they could make notes and figure out what was needed.
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Zoey didn’t want to take advantage of him. He’d already put in a full day, then helped her with the dog. “It’s getting really late.”
He touched her cheek. “Tired?”
With him around? “Not me.”
“Good.” His thumb went under her chin, he tipped up her face and gave her a short, soft kiss. “Let’s make a list.”
For another thirty minutes they went over everything, and Zoey felt like she had a good handle on which updates were priorities and which could wait.
Even better, Garrett insisted he’d enjoy helping out as often as possible.
When they reached her bedroom, he stepped inside and looked around with interest.
Being there with him, near her bed, meant there was no way she could keep her thoughts on repairs. He’d already given her an incredible orgasm, but now...
Now she wanted more.
“The room looks like you.”
That made her laugh. “Peeling paint and scuffed floors? Gee, thanks.”
He nodded at the bed. “Soft blankets, everything tidy but colorful.” His gaze met hers. “Inviting.”
Such a wonderful compliment—though she seldom thought of herself as tidy. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Everything.” Lifting a hand, she gestured at the house, at the pet hair and muddy paw prints clinging to his dark shirt. “For the kind words, the encouragement and advice, and for helping out with the dog.”
He didn’t move from his position near the bed. “Is that my goodbye for the night?”
“What? No.” She closed the space between them. Unsure of how bold she should be, wary of chasing him off, she said, “I was hoping for more kissing?”
Humor lit his eyes. “Is that a question or a fact?”
“Both?”
Smiling, he shook his head. “You don’t protect yourself at all, do you?”
“From you? Why would I.”
Indecision took him across the floor—away from her—but he came right back again. Determination stopped him in front of her. “You were phenomenal.”
“Really?” She grinned and lifted a fist. “Go me.”
“The thing is...”
Uh-oh. “What?”
“I can’t be anything more than a friend.”
They were already more than friends. Or, having had her once, was he satisfied? “You don’t want me anymore?” She must not have been all that phenomenal after all.
His eyes flared, then narrowed. “Of course I do.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I’m not looking
to settle down anytime soon.”
Insult, disbelief and incredulity kept her staring at him for far too long. Should she laugh, be indignant? Or just be honest?
He stepped closer. “Zoey?”
Honesty won out. “Here’s the thing, Garrett. I just got back to town, right? My mom is having all kinds of health issues. I’m trying to open up a new shop and make enough of a living to support not only me, but her, too. So far as I can tell, a third of the town doesn’t remember why I left, another third remembers but doesn’t care and that last third is still harboring some animosity.”
“I’m sorry.”
She waved off the apology. The last thing she wanted was his pity. “Do you really think I have the time or the inclination for a committed relationship?” He started to speak but she cut him off. “Because I don’t. Actually, I’m pretty beat.”
“I didn’t mean...”
“And really. Sex once doesn’t lock you into anything.” She tried a cheeky grin. “Sex twice or three times still doesn’t count as a promise, not to me.”
This time when he started to speak, she put her fingers against his mouth.
“If you want to be friends, yeah, that’d be great—as long as it’s friends with benefits because I’m too busy to clear my calendar just for an occasional chat or fast food. But sex? At my convenience, and yours of course, now that I can work out. So what do you think?”
He knotted a hand in his hair, looking a little frazzled. “About?”
“Weren’t you paying attention?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“So how about more kissing? And maybe more...everything else, too?”
Chapter Five
Garrett blew out a breath. “Honest to God, Zoey, you make me a little nuts.”
She pursed her lips. “Should I apologize?”
He laughed. He didn’t mean to, but damn, she was about as unique as a woman could get. “Don’t apologize, and don’t change.”
She eyed him. “I don’t understand you.”
“Okay, so understand this—I’d like nothing more than to spend the whole night kissing you.” The whole night—what the hell was he saying?
“Yes.”
He’d been about to retrench, to make excuses on why he had to go, but her unguarded enthusiasm made him feel like a coward. While he shied away from his emotions, she embraced hers without reserve.
He knew the truth; in a very short time he’d come to like her too much, think about her too often.
Want her in ways that were only in part sexual.
Would it be so bad if he let things progress naturally? Now that he’d had her, now that he knew how good it was between them, how could he walk away? Especially given that she claimed to feel the same.
And if they grew tired of each other...how could there be hurt feelings when right now, she didn’t have the time or energy for more anyway?
“You’re pondering things far too long,” she complained. “I have my pride, you know. If you’d rather just go, I promise not to kick up a fuss.”
That made up his mind. “It was dark outside.”
“Just the firelight, I know.”
“I’d like to stay. With the lights on so I can see you better.”
Her eyes widened.
“And no threat of mosquitoes or echoes off the lake.”
“Echoes.” She covered her mouth. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” Then with a grimace, “Was I loud?”
“You were so damned sexy, I didn’t get a chance to linger as long as I wanted. You started moaning all deep and hot and I lost it.”
She beamed at him.
“Let’s check on the dog, take him out one more time, then I could use a shower before we turn in.”
“A shower—with me?”
“I was going to ask.” Damn, she pleased him. For now, he’d put his sister’s guilt trip from his mind and take things as they came.
One day at a time—starting tonight.
* * *
Several days later, Garrett was outside with the guys on a quiet, sunny afternoon washing the engines when Amber came to visit him again. She and Zoey were friends, so no doubt she knew how much time he’d been spending at Zoey’s house.
Was she here to give him another lecture?
He rolled his eyes at her purposeful, long-legged stride across the lot...until he realized Noel Poet had zeroed in on her, too.
Deciding now might be a good time to let the new guy know of family connections, Garrett headed over to meet her halfway. “Amber.”
She gave him a double take, then matched his formal tone. “Garrett.”
Putting an arm around her shoulders, he led her to where Noel, shirtless and with his pants soaked to the knees, ran a soapy sponge over a rescue truck. Or more to the point, he held the sponge near the truck. With his attention clearly elsewhere, he wasn’t doing much in the way of actual washing.
When they approached, Noel swiped a forearm over his face and then just waited until they’d reached him, his eyes narrowed against the sun.
He stood an inch or so shorter than Garrett’s six-two. During a recent tour with the elementary school, Garrett had overheard two of the teachers whispering about Noel’s dark blond hair and lean, muscular body. At the time he’d found it funny and had harassed Noel over it later.
Now, with his sister looking at Noel, Garrett wasn’t sure how he felt about it, mostly because he’d heard other things, too.
Like how Noel got around, how he enjoyed variety and how he planned to stay single.
When they reached him, Garrett said, “Amber, this is Noel Poet. He’s new to the station. Noel, my sister, Amber.”
Surprise lifted Noel’s brows. “You’re intro-ing me to your sis? Seriously?”
Damn it, did the man have to make it sound like he’d just thrown Amber on the sacrificial altar?
Amber smiled and stuck out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Smile slow and suggestive, Noel transferred the sponge to his other hand and swiped his palm along the seat of his pants before taking hers. “Might’ve been nicer if you weren’t related.” He kept the handshake brief.
Garrett worked his jaw. “I figured since she comes around often enough—usually to give me shit about something—I might as well introduce you.”
Amber leaned in to Noel—which made both his brows go up—to say in a loud stage whisper, “I only give him a hard time when he needs it.”
“Which she seems to figure is twice a week at least.”
For one brief moment, Noel’s gaze dipped over her before he caught himself. “The family resemblance is there,” he told them both. “Wish I’d noticed sooner.”
Amber’s smile brightened more. “Hope you don’t hold that against me.”
Both men stared at her. Garrett because he’d never seen her flirt, and Noel, well... Garrett knew exactly where the man’s mind had gone—and it had to do with holding body parts against her.
Frowning, Garrett took her upper arm. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
Noel nodded and murmured, “Guess I should,” but he continued to look at her.
Uncomfortable for a variety of reasons, Garrett led Amber toward the garage and relative privacy.
“He seems nice.”
No, he didn’t want Amber thinking that, but if he tried telling her what to do, she’d do the opposite just to prove a point. “So what’s up?” he asked, hoping to divert her.
She took the bait. “You and Zoey.”
“Yeah?” He’d definitely been up that morning. The night before, too. But right now, here at the station, he had it under wraps.
That is, unless he started thinking about her too much.
“You didn’t t
ake my advice,” Amber said.
“Advice?” His sister was never that understated. “You mean your order for me to leave her be?”
“Semantics.” She walked over to a tool chest and seated herself. “Zoey said she’s gotten more done on the house in the last week with your help than she would have in a month on her own.”
“Yeah, so? I’m good at repairs.”
“Sounded to me like you’ve been there nearly every day.”
All but one, not that he’d give her details.
Amber stared at him.
“Stop it.”
Failing at the innocent look, Amber asked, “What?”
“You’re patiently waiting for me to spill my guts.” In the past, that silent stare might have worked. But not since he’d hit his twenties. “My relationship with Zoey is none of your business.”
“So it is a relationship?”
An awesome, hot, sexually inspired relationship, which he also enjoyed when they weren’t having sex...but he didn’t want to dwell on that too much. Things were happening fast. Mach-speed fast. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, and he had no clue how Zoey felt about it.
She loved sleeping with him, that much he knew. And she smiled a lot while they worked on her house. He often found her watching him with a really sweet expression on her face.
But he didn’t know what that expression meant.
Amber pushed to her feet in a rush. “I ask, because Zoey just assured me that it wasn’t.”
As usual, when he started thinking about Zoey, he got distracted. “Wasn’t what?”
“A relationship.”
Ire quickly replaced the confusion. “You were gossiping about me?”
Flapping a hand, she said, “Save that deadly tone for someone who intimidates more easily. I’m your sister and you know I would defend you with my dying breath.”
Mouth twisted over that dramatic statement, he repeated, “Dying breath, huh?”
“Of course.” Smiling, she added, “Because I love you.”
Oh, hell no. “You’re up to something.”
That made her laugh. “I’m just trying to get a lay of the land.”
