Have you ever owned a dog before?
What will happen to the dog if you move?
What’s the name and address of your veterinarian?
I started scanning the form for questions about my blood type and sexual history. Didn’t look like there was anything quite that personal. But almost.
Do I want my dog to hunt with me? No. Definitely not.
I was so engrossed in the endless forms, for a while I didn’t notice another person join the girl behind the counter.
And then I did.
The forms suddenly lost all interest for me. I repositioned them so I could appear to be filling them out but kept my gaze focused on the gorgeous male specimen who’d arrived.
Tall, with dark brown hair pulled back into a messy man bun. Heavy brows. Thick, close-cropped beard over an angled jaw. White T-shirt revealing lean muscled arms and a narrow waist. He was all kinds of handsome grunge. Grunge wasn’t typically my thing, but he looked to be a clean grunge, which made things better. And with as handsome as he was, I might make an exception and try out less-clean grunge if need be.
Was there an application to take him home?
As if.
I was never the grunge boys’ type. I was cute, sure. But more boy-next-door kind of cute. Baby-faced, even at thirty-five. Light brown hair and eyes. Decent body. Healthy, but not overly muscled or anything.
This guy would be looking for someone with a little more edge and bite to them. And that was assuming the guy was gay. Could be.
Little chance I could take him home, even if he were gay, application or not. A guy like him might book me for a massage, but not for a date.
That was an idea. Better a massage than nothing.
Maybe I’d leave my card.
I bet he had a hairy chest too, judging from the thickness of his beard and man bun. Hell, I might pay to give that massage.
His dark eyes flashed in my direction.
Shit. Caught me looking. And drooling. Thank God for the clipboard hiding other reactions my body was offering.
The man returned his attention to the woman, then looked back at me again, his eyes narrowed.
Maybe she told him I was definitely an unfit doggy daddy. Or maybe he could tell my mind had strewn his clothes about the room.
I adjusted my gaze and kept it firmly fixed on the forms.
When at home, do I want my dog to stay by my side? Hell if I know.
I heard the footsteps approaching across the tile floor, but didn’t look up until shoes entered my vision, past the edge of the clipboard. Men’s shoes.
Making sure the clipboard stayed where I needed it to be, I looked up into the man’s dark brown eyes.
Holy shit. He was even more beautiful up close. He looked like a gorgeous Jesus. Which was weird.
But hot.
And then he spoke, his voice deep enough to be sexy without being cliché. “Randall?”
It was Jesus. Had to be. He knew my name. He’d just traded a white robe for a white T-shirt and shown up to keep me from lying more on the doggy forms.
“Um. Yeah. I’m….” Who did he say I was? Oh! “Randall.”
