Chapter 2
Juniper
Mostdefinitelynot Todd.
Not in the slightest.
Todd wishes he looked like this. Literally, if Todd was given three wishes, one of them would be to look like this guy. Though, he’d probably say he looked like him in his younger days, but what old man doesn’t say that about themselves?
The man in the doorway gives me a crooked smile, dimple showing against his angular jaw. I don’t know if it’s his pale eyes or the chilled breeze from the open doors that prompts goosebumps down my spine.
“No. Not Todd. Unless that’s who you’d prefer I be,” he replies.
Words seem to roll off his tongue like velvet—soft and warm. Rich and comforting. His straight black hair falls messily into his eyes as he glances me over. Watching him take me in is excruciating. It feels as if he’s peeling my clothes off inch by inch. I can’t move, can’t even bring myself to straighten my shirt or run a hand through my wavy green hair.
“Ah…” I’m stammering, and it’s one of my more embarrassing displays of stammering, too. Which is saying a lot.
His eyes shift toward Pack, who’s still whining and yapping. I expect him to move back or at least appear phased by her antics, yet he pushes his hands into his pockets and smiles at her.
“Hey, girl,” he says to her. “Is she a Heeler?”
“Yeah. She doesn’t usually do this much barking, though,” I say as she jumps like she wants to go to him. I bend down to scratch her head again. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” I keep telling her.
It’s a few more seconds before Pack snorts and eventually sits, and I sigh in relief.
Thank fuck.
She never barks like this.
“Sorry about that,” I say, looking in his direction again.
His hands are out of his pockets now, long fingers rubbing together like he’s warming them up from the cold. “No worries. Dogs usually bark at me the first time we meet. I’m Nick.”
Nick.
Why do I know that name?
“Juni,” I reply automatically.
“Juni…” There’s a twinge of delight in his eyes that makes me squirm. He repeats my name again, drawing out the syllables as if he’s deciding if he likes the taste.
“What’s that short for?” he asks.
I give him a look and turn on my heel to head behind the bar.
“Are you always this nosey?” I ask.
He chuckles under his breath. “Rarely.”
“Oh?”
Three feet of bar top and back counter between us, along with something to do with my hands, is what I need to calm my nerves. If he comes any closer, I’ll forget how to think.
I toss Pack a bone from inside her treat jar, and she curls up into her bed by the Christmas tree to occupy her time.
“I only take a genuine interest in things that intrigue me,” he tells me.
“And am I athingthat intrigues you?” I tease, grabbing a bar towel and the cleaning spray.
