“But you know how the world is divided into dog lovers and cat lovers—”
“And fish people.”
“Huh?”
“People who prefer fish.”
She frowned. “Huh. Never considered that.”
“And snake people. Bird people. Rat people.”
“Ew, what? Rat people?” When he made such intense eye contact it was hard to think, but easy to squirm. “Don’t make this difficult.”
“Rodent lovers. Lizard lovers. Hell, tarantula lovers walk among us.”
She shuddered even as an unwilling smile tugged her lips. “If you won’t quit destroying my worldviews, could you stop trying to give me nightmares?”
“Never a bad idea to challenge your preconceptions. It’s part of my job description to appreciate all creatures big and small.”
“So about this job…” She had been spending quality time with fear. What was the harm in sprinkling in more? By the time she’d leave Georgia, she really could be Superwoman. Nothing would ever rattle her again. She’d leap life uncertainties in a single bound. “So, you’re a dog walker, too?”
“Me?” He startled. “No. A vet. Valentine Veterinary.”
“Wait. Hold the presses. A vet?” The plot thickened. “Rhett…the vet? Like a poet who doesn’t know it?”
He frowned at her playful tone before briskly outlining the details of Norma’s business.
She regarded him more closely. His rolled-up shirtsleeves revealed an inked phrase near his elbow. Too hard to read the tattoo at this angle, and she wasn’t going to stare. Instead she doubled down on studying his face. That chin. Wow, and that jaw. And hello there, cheekbones.
That scruff would deliciously grizzle against her top lip.
“What do you say?” he asked, no hint in his face that he was secretly quagmired in his own lascivious thoughts. His face was all business. As it should be.
This teeny-tiny crush scared her. Today she’d hit a dead end on her dream of becoming a hotshot law school grad with an out-of-the-gate judicial clerkship. That fact should be the only unsettling part today.
Becoming a clerk was the cornerstone to achieving her dream life. And when one loses one’s dream, one should feel crushed like a cartoon character walking under an anvil. There shouldn’t be space in her body for lust unless she hoped to salve the disappointment with desire.
Ah. But wait. She huffed a sigh of relief. That could be it. What if her humiliating job losshadin fact destroyed her to the point where she now eyeballed the closest decent—fine, more than decent—man in sight hoping for relief, physical distraction.
But she wouldn’t grasp for that kind of salve to heal this wound. Facts were facts. She was terrified of being broke and had a childhood phobia of dogs. But avoiding these fears would only make them scarier. She couldn’t stand another minute being crushed by impending doom. If she stood her ground and faced them, maybe—just maybe they’d fade.
“Okay, you know what? Why not. You win.” She spoke the words carefully. “I’m a gal attached to eating and electricity, so any income is useful. Thank you for saving me twice in one day, Rhett the vet.” That poke was impossible to resist.
He hooked his hand to the back of his neck. His rumpled shirt rode up, exposing a flat inch of tanned skin above his worn leather belt. The unexpectedly intimate sight shot her through with tingles, as if she’d brushed up wet next to an electrical socket.
His bright eyes narrowed. “You like pressing buttons, Miss Knight?”
“Not as a rule.” She pressed her knees together while he appeared every inch in control.
He cocked his head. “I see.”
What exactly do you see?The question danced at the tip of her tongue. Was it a woman crashing and burning following a total loss of control? A big sister whose loneliness grew more acute every hour she spent away from Tuesday? Or a character fromSex-Starved in the City, who hadn’t romanced anything besides her six-speed vibrator in eighteen months?
She didn’t look away. Neither did he.
“Okay then, Miss Knight.” He flexed a large, powerful hand. “Have yourself a nice evening.”
She gripped the doorway, legs boneless. She wanted to call out “Nothing’s okay” as he opened the gate, but her gaze fastened on his ass and her mouth dried. Have to credit a man who didn’t skimp on daily deadlifts. She swallowed. Hard.
Enough already.
If she wanted to be a good neighbor, she needed training. First lesson?Down, girl.
