“Dr. Cross,” he says, extending his hand and turning his smile to maximum wattage. “Stone Murphy. I’ve heard wonderful things about your work with animals.”
Hunter accepts the handshake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Murphy. And thank you. It’s easy to do wonderful things when you love what you do.”
“Please, call me Stone,” he says, moving to maintain position in Hunter’s line of sight. “I’m very interested in learning more about your program. How could I do that?”
The suggestion hangs in the air, but it seems the hot vet isn’t catching Stone’s drift. “Our website has comprehensive information about volunteer opportunities,” he says. “All program details are available there.”
“That’s great, but I would love the opportunity to discuss the recent increase in pet adoptions. As they say, pets are for life, not just for Christmas.”
Hunter’s face remains neutral, but the flush rising above his collar tells a different story. He’s a good few inches shorter than Stone, but he’s clearly not easily intimidated.
The touch on my sleeve comes with no warning, but I know it’s him before I turn. Bastian stands closer than strictly necessary, smelling like Christmas morning. His eyes carry that particular brightness that always means trouble for me, my resolve, and my careful plans to keep a distance between us.
Without a word, he pulls me toward the back of the main stage, where the equipment storage boxes create a convenient hiding spot.
“How was your little trip?” I ask, leaning against the support beam in a way I hope looks casual, unbothered.
Bastian’s smile grows wider as he steps closer, eliminating what little space I’d managed to maintain between us. “Awww,” he teases, voice dropping to a register that sends heat through my system despite the winter chill. “You missed me.”
I roll my eyes. “Like a drought in summer,” I say, but my heart betrays me by racing when he moves even closer. His cologne makes my head spin slightly.
“Well, I missed you,” he admits quietly. “Thought about you every day I was gone.”
I should step away now, but instead, I sway slightly closer, drawn by the heat of his body and the memory of how perfectly we fit together.
Before I can push him away, his lips find mine. Of course my hands betray me by finding his shoulders, pulling him closer despite all my resolutions.
He tastes like coffee and cinnamon. One of his hands cups my face while the other braces against the wall, boxing me in.
When he pulls back, his eyes are filled with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. “Have dinner with me,” he says. “A real date. Please.”
“I can’t,” I manage, though even I hear the lack of conviction in my voice. My hands still rest on his shoulders, contradicting words with actions in a way that’s becoming a familiar pattern between us.
“Why not?” His thumb traces my bottom lip, a gesture so intimate it makes my breath catch. “Give me one good reason why we can’t explore this properly, other than your silly idea that I’m somehow going to go somewhere.”
But good reasons seem to evaporate when he’s this close, when I can feel the heat of his body and remember exactly how well we fit together. “Because…” I trail off, distracted by the way his fingers are tracing my jaw.
“Because you’re trying to protect yourself,” he finishes for me, his voice gentler now. “Because you’re scared this is real.” His forehead rests against mine, creating a pocket of shared air between us. “I’m scared too, Tay. But I’m more scared of letting this slip away without trying.”
I close my eyes. My hands grip his coat tighter, ready to give in and say yes to everything he wants.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, reading my silence correctly. “Not this time. Not ever again if you’ll let me stay.” His hands frame my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Just give me a chance to prove it.”
Part of me wants to believe him, but a larger part remembers that he left for tour buses, packed venues, and a life that exists beyond our small town’s boundaries. “You can’t promise that,” I whisper, though my body betrays me by leaning into his touch.
“Watch me,” he challenges, then kisses me again before I can argue further. This kiss carries a different energy. Less gentle exploration, more determined claiming. His body presses mine against the support beam while his hands tangle in my hair, drawing a sound from my throat that would embarrass me if I had any capacity left for shame.
When we break apart this time, we’re both breathing harder.
“Think about it,” he says finally.
“I’ll think about it,” I concede, knowing it’s the best I can offer right now.
He brushes a final kiss across my lips before stepping fully away. “That’s all I’m asking,” he says, though we both know he’s asking for much more than a simple dinner date. “Now come with me. I want to win a plushy for you.”
I laugh. “How fantastically cliché.”
The carnival section of the festival is all flashing lights and barker calls designed to draw people in. I follow Bastian past the game booths. He stops so suddenly that I almost run into him, his attention caught by the ring toss booth that looks like every other tourist trap along our path.
