Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  Sugar, of course, hadn’t gone far when he’d put her down. Sugar loved him. He didn’t understand it any more than he understood why this human woman wanted to keep talking to him, but in his weaker moments, he could admit that Sugar was cute. And it never hurt a guy’s ego to have someone, or something, adoring him.

  Other than Sugar and Hermione—who was scared of thunderstorms—the rest of the animals in the barn could give a rat’s ass about him. In fact, most of them didn’t like him. They associated him with being poked and prodded and stuck with needles. But such was the life of a veterinarian. If he needed an ego boost and Sugar wasn’t enough, he could always go over to the otter enclosure. The otters were smitten with him. They chittered to him like he was a long-lost friend every time they saw him. They could actually give this woman a run for her money when it came to chatter. And they were a lot louder about it.

  Okay, yes, sometimes he snuck them treats, and yes, when no one else was around, he sat down and let them climb on him, and he’d pet them and talked to them, but he also poked, prodded, and stuck them with needles.

  He watched the woman turn a full circle, taking in all the details of the barnyard. He knew the exact moment when she noticed Al, one of the alpacas.

  Al had come to the fence that separated his pen from the goat yard and was now peering over, checking out the commotion.

  Their emu, Elmo, then wandered over to see what Al was looking at.

  The woman spun to face Griffin. “Is that a llama?”

  He almost smiled but caught himself just in the nick of time. “Actually, it’s an alpaca. That’s Al.”

  His full name was Al Pacacino. And Griffin really hoped she wouldn’t ask. He also did not want to tell her about Alpacalypse, Alpacasso, Alpacaman, or Alpacapella.

  They couldn’t call them all Al, of course. Al Pacacino was the oldest, so he got the nickname. The rest, Griffin mostly referred to as number two, number three, and so on. He most definitely didn’t want to tell her about Chewpaca. Who he did, in his weaker moments, call Chewie.

  Elmo was the only emu. For now. But Griffin definitely feared they would add more, and they’d all be named after Sesame Street characters.

  “Oh my God, I really need to read my grandmother’s emails more carefully,” Charlie muttered, shaking her head.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sure that she would have emailed me about alpacas in Autre.”

  “Your grandmother lives here?” Yep, he shouldn’t get involved with her.

  Her eyes narrowed. She seemed to be thinking something over before she answered. “She does. And I think that’s all I’m going to tell you.”

  Yeah, now he liked her even more. “We’re not going to share a lot of details?”

  “You don’t seem like the detail-sharing type of guy.”

  “But you seem very much like the detail-sharing type of girl.” He knew he could walk out of here knowing her favorite flavor of milkshake, her birthday, and her shoe size if he wanted to. Which made his attention drop to her feet again, and the shoes that screamed, Look at us! Aren’t we sexy as fuck?

  Yes, yes, they were.

  She nodded. “Typically yes. However, I think that it might be in my best interest right now to be a little less my usual type of girl and a little more your usual type of girl.”

  That pulled his attention right back to her face. He took a step toward her without really meaning to. “What do you think my usual type of girl is?”

  “Casual. No strings attached. Willing to share only first names and no other details.”

  Griffin wasn’t sure what exactly his heart rate was reacting to, but his pulse had definitely picked up. “And why might that be in your best interest right now?”

  “Well, you turned me down for a dance earlier, but that was before we had a chance to really talk.”

  “And you think now that we’ve talked, I’m going to be more open to the idea of dancing?”

  She laughed. “Actually, I think now that we’ve talked, you might be even less inclined to say yes to a dance.” She paused. “Or anything else.”

  Again, he took a step forward without consciously deciding to make his feet move.

  He liked her. She was talkative. God, was she talkative. She was clearly high-maintenance. She was also bright and bubbly, though she hadn’t quite crossed over to perky yet. But this was the most interesting evening he’d had in a very long time. And he worked around a bunch of crazy, loud Cajuns, and his days were filled with otters, alpacas, and potbellied pigs. His days were not boring. And yet, this woman was definitely the most fun he’d had in a while.

  She was also absolutely gorgeous.

  Had he mentioned that? Yes, he had. Even without a goat in her arms.

  And then there was the goat thing. She hadn’t picked the animal up by herself, and she’d commented on the smell, but she’d carried it to the barn, and she was still here. In the barn, in the middle of the smell.

  “So you’re thinking of asking me to dance again?”

  She tipped her head. “Actually, I’ve moved on to the anything else part.”

  His pulse kicked up another notch, and he took a step forward again. He was now close enough that he could reach out and touch her. And God, he wanted to reach out and touch her. That was a huge red flag. He shouldn’t be touching anybody. He shouldn’t like anyone this much. Certainly not someone that he had just met and knew next to nothing about. But she certainly had a point about his type of girl.

  He was definitely a casual, no-strings-attached type of guy. Now. He hadn’t always been that guy, but definitely, over the past few years, he’d become that guy. It was just safer.

  “Define ‘anything else,’” he said, his voice gruffer.

  Now she took a step forward. This was way more than being within touching distance. The air around him heated slightly, and he caught the scent of expensive perfume over the scent of goat. He supposed it took an expensive perfume to be smelled over the scent of goat. That was certainly a point in the pro column for pricey perfume.

  “The good news is that ‘anything else’ does not include dancing…” She paused. “Or talking.”

  Well, damn. He was on board.

  For better or worse, despite the fact, he had flashing warning signs in the back of his mind. In spite of the fact that he had successfully kept from doing anything stupid since he had been in Autre—and there was a tiny niggling voice in the back of his head telling him this was going to be stupid—he said, “There are a lot of things I like better than dancing and talking.”

  She smiled, and he felt a punch to the gut. It wasn’t the first smile he’d seen. She’d been smiling and laughing since she’d walked up on him and Sugar and the rest of the gang outside the bar. In addition to being talkative, she was a very smiley person, which should have put her in the not-my-type category. Smiley people were happy people. And happy people didn’t put up with growly people, like him, for long. It was a sure set-up for disappointment for someone.

  But he really liked her smile. And this smile in particular. This one said we are totally on the same page, and this page is going to be a hell of a lot of fun.

  She took one more little step forward, putting her directly in front of him, her breasts centimeters away from brushing against his chest. Her forehead was right in front of his mouth, at the perfect height for kissing. Which meant that without her shoes on, her head would tuck right under his chin. The perfect height for hugging.

  Griffin rolled his eyes at himself. He was thinking about this woman being the perfect height for hugging? Really? It was one thing to be immediately attracted to her and to have her charm him past his general dislike of conversation and socialization, but it was quite another for him to be measuring her hugging height at this point.

  “There’s just one thing I need to know,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  “Brace yourself. I’m going to ask you something personal,” she warned. “B
ut I do think that it is important.”

  Personal. That was definitely one of his least favorite words. He hesitated but could not ignore the fact that his palms were literally itching to run over the smooth expanse of her shoulder and upper arm bared by her strapless dress. If he didn’t touch this woman and kiss her at least once, he was going to regret it forever.

  That was the strangest thought he had maybe ever had, but it was enough to make him say, “What do you want to know?”

  “What’s your first name?” She paused. “Just your first name. I don’t need your last name.”

  “Griffin.”

  She smiled. “Hi, Griffin. I’m Charlotte.”

  Charlotte. It fit her. Beautiful, slightly sophisticated but warm.

  Warm? He thought of her name as warm? That was maybe the second strangest thought he’d ever had.

  “There is one other thing I need to know about you,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “Wow, you’re going to ask me something personal?”

  He lifted a brow, letting her know he noted her sass. “Are you from here?”

  He really needed the answer to that. He was going to be incredibly disappointed if the answer was yes, but if she was from Autre, and they just hadn’t crossed paths until now, this was the time to know. He could still shut this down. Which he absolutely would if she was local. This woman gave him all kinds of I-could-get-attached vibes, and he needed to nip that in the bud.

  “I’m not.”

  Air rushed from his lungs before Griffin realized he’d even been holding his breath.

  “In fact, I’m really not from here.”

  “What’s that mean?” She’d already given him the best answer she could have.

  “I’m actually moving to Paris in two days. I got a new job.”

  He blinked at her. “Paris?”

  “Yes, Paris. France.”

  Okay, that was the best answer she could have given him. Another country? Another continent? That was fantastic. He gave her a big smile. Her eyes widened, then she blinked at him as if stunned.

  He reached out and ran his hand from her elbow to her bare shoulder. Her pale skin was soft and silky, and he felt relief at finally making skin-to-skin contact with her. But even better than the actual feel of her skin under his hand was the tiny shiver of awareness that went through her body.

  “I happen to be a huge fan of Paris,” he said. With his hand on her elbow, he drew her closer.

  She came forward willingly. “You’ve been to Paris?”

  “No.”

  She gave him a small knowing smile. “You’re a fan of me going to Paris in two days.”

  He nodded.

  “You know most girls would probably be insulted by that.”

  “I’m getting the impression you’re not most girls.”

  “Thank you very much, Griffin.”

  They leaned in at the same time. Her hands came to rest on his waist while his gently gripped her upper arms. Their mouths met. The kiss was soft. But only for about three seconds. That was all the time it took for his body to say, Oh, yeah, we want all of this right fucking now. Then she pressed closer, slid her hands higher, and opened her mouth too.

  He ran his hands from her upper arms over her shoulders to the back of her hair, where he cradled her head in his palms, his fingers tangled deep in the silky blond tresses.

  Her hands slid up over his ribs to his biceps, where she gripped him, pulling herself up onto tiptoe.

  She gave a tiny moan, he growled in the back of his throat, and their tongues met, stroking hungrily.

  She tasted even better than she looked. And considering that he wasn’t sure he had ever met a woman who had gotten under his skin so quickly, that should’ve been the biggest red flag of all. Instead, he relished the hunger crashing through him.

  It had been so long since he’d felt raw emotion. He didn’t let himself anymore. He’d learned to lock it down and had, for the most part, been pleased with the results of that. Ignoring those emotions. Keeping them pushed out of his consciousness, kept him on an even keel, and if not happy, at least not angry and resentful.

  But raw emotions didn’t just include anger and rage at injustice and a desire to fight and argue and protest. Desire and the need to possess were also true raw emotions. Emotions he hadn’t felt in an exceptionally long time. And this woman was bringing them all rushing to the forefront. He was incapable of stopping it.

  He tore his mouth from hers and looked down. Her blue eyes were darker now, swirling with emotion as well. She was breathing a little faster, her likely expensive-as-hell lipstick completely smudged. He lifted one hand to his bottom lip and ran the pad of his thumb over it. He drew it away and looked down to see the dark pink stain on his skin. He liked that. Her mark on him. It was a strange thought, and one he didn’t want to delve into at all, but he did acknowledge it.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened slightly. “What in the world would make you think I wasn’t okay?”

  “Just making sure.”

  “Well, Griffin, I’m very okay, and I promise that if at any point I become not okay, you will be the first to know.”

  Yeah, he really liked her.

  “Deal.”

  He captured her lips again, kissing her deeply, stroking his tongue against hers, wondering how she could taste so amazing. Had it really just been so long since he’d been with a woman?

  But it hadn’t really been all that long. He hadn’t been celibate since coming to Louisiana. He just hadn’t been emotionally involved. Of course, he hadn’t been emotionally involved in a lot longer than that. Still, there was something about this woman that made his hunger feel more urgent, and everything about being with her, sweeter at the same time.

  It was really good she was going to Paris in two days.

  She moved her hands to his chest and gripped his shirt in her fists. She tipped her head, slanting her mouth under his, and gave a needy little moan.

  Something about her being needy made his gut clench, and a very primal instinct surge forward, demanding he take care of every need she had.

  With his mouth still on hers, he started walking her backward. It was about six steps to the nearest wall. Of course, it was a barn wall, but a part of his brain—a part that was quickly becoming the most insistent and impossible to ignore—cared only that it was a firm surface.

  Once she’d bumped into the wall, he pressed close, running his hands down her back to settle on her hips. She arched closer to him, the sweet sound she made now sounding less oh-please and more oh-yes.

  Stupidly, he was urged on, knowing that he had done something to satisfy her. He ran one hand lower, cupping her ass and bringing her up against him more fully. Now her moan was purely more-of-that.

  He kissed along her jaw to the sweet spot behind her ear. Damn, he didn’t know what they put in this perfume, but he wanted to smell it all over his pillows and sheets. Hell, he wanted to smell it all over his skin. But only if it was transferred from her skin to his.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulder blades as she tipped her head back. She arched closer to his mouth and the hard length of his erection behind his fly. He slid his hand from her ass to her upper thigh and lifted her leg. Her skirt was loose enough that the material fell away from her thighs, hanging behind her. The back of the skirt was longer than the front, and the hem now brushed the barn floor. And there was now a lot of enticing bare skin. The position also allowed him to settle between her thighs against the soft spot where he instinctively needed to be.

  “Griffin,” she gasped.

  His name, said like that, from this woman, was exactly what he needed without even knowing he’d needed anything.

  All of this was crazy. The way he was feeling, the way he was thinking about this woman, his stupid, irrational, emotional reactions to her.

  But she wasn’t from here, she was leaving, and she was going to be far away and untouchable. And she knew the score. Th
at was key. She didn’t want his last name any more than he wanted hers. All of that made this safe, and the emotions he’d been holding back for all these months now seemed to have an outlet. A sweet-smelling, soft, silky, sassy-flirty-funny-charming blond outlet.

  Now that the lid was off, it seemed he had feelings and desires spilling out all over the place.

  But he wasn’t going to have to clean this mess up. It wasn’t even going to be a mess.

  “More. More, please,” she pleaded in a breathless voice.

  This woman was the best thing to happen to him in months.

  And he wanted to say thanks.

  He pressed his hard cock against the V of her thighs. She gave a happy sigh. He smiled. God, there was something about being with someone who let you know exactly how they felt and that you were the one making them feel it. Especially when the feelings were good.

  He had people and situations where he hadn’t minded making people feel pretty damn bad too. Sorry. Full of shame. Regretful. Even angry. He didn’t care. Sometimes people deserved to feel those things too.

  But this woman, tonight? She deserved to feel very, very good. Because yeah, she was making him feel better than he had in a long time. Now that he’d let the thought in, let the emotions flow, there was no denying it.

  He stroked his open palm along the back of her thigh as he kissed his way down her neck to her collarbone. Her hands moved up to the back of his head, her fingers spreading through his hair.

  “Thank you for wearing a strapless dress,” he said against her skin.

  Her fingers curled into his scalp. “I would’ve gladly unzipped anything for you.”

  He gave a huff of laughter but continued kissing across her collarbone to the base of her throat. He gave her skin a little lick and suck and then kissed down to the top edge of the bodice of the dress.

  “In fact…” She reached behind her, and he heard the faint rasp of a zipper. The material at his chin loosened, and he realized she’d unzipped the top of her dress.