THE POUND WAS A FORTY-minute drive from the farm and she spent most of it trying not to think about the way it felt when Liam touched her. His hands were rough like hers, like a man who did physical work for a living. Nothing like the guys who spent their days moving money with the click of a mouse.
It had been a long time since she’d done anything as ordinary as date. Back then she’d gone out with guys when the mood struck her or when she needed someone on her arm for work. She’d always gone for the uncomplicated guys, the ones she could control, who didn’t want any more than she did. The promise of a better orgasm than she could get from her vibrator—even if the promise didn’t match reality—and a quick getaway with no strings attached. None of that was true with Liam. Everything about him screamed complicated and she had an unsettling feeling he’d more than live up to anything he promised. Which was exactly why she needed to put some distance between them and stop thinking about the man’s hands before she did something stupid she’d regret.
She heard the roar of an engine over the chugging of her ancient pickup and glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see a black Mercedes speeding up behind her. The car, way too expensive to belong to a local, rode her ass for a mile or so before finally passing her. With the tinted windows, she didn’t get more than a glimpse of a shadowy figure in the driver’s seat as she flipped him off.Asshole. Probably overcompensating for something—like a tiny, little penis.He’d at least got her thinking about something other than the wall of man with the strong hands and infuriating questions about money waiting back at her farm.
Turning in to the gravel lot in front of the animal shelter, she slid the truck into park and let out a sigh of relief when she saw the front door open. County budget cuts meant the shelter was only open for a couple of hours every other day. She hadn’t bothered to check the schedule before she’d jumped in her truck and made the pilgrimage and she’d have a hard time explaining where she’d been if they hadn’t been open. Or not. There was a chance no one would even notice she was gone. Although Liam parking himself in the farmhouse with Millie made that an unlikely scenario. Didn’t matter—the shelter was open.
She walked inside the white cinderblock building, her breath catching for a moment at the mixed odor of feces and disinfectant. The shelter was clean, but with that many scared animals housed so close together, it must be impossible to control the smell.
“Can I help you?” asked the woman behind the counter. She wore a smock covered with tiny pink paw prints and cartoon bones and a friendly if tired-looking expression.
“I’m looking for a herding dog. Something large enough to work as a guard dog out in the pasture.” It would be impossible to replace Rex. It almost didn’t seem fair to try. She couldn’t imagine another dog fitting in as well as the old border collie.
“Coyote trouble?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “They seem to get worse every year. The bounties are barely making a dent.”
The woman shook her head and Andy nodded without commenting. She understood the reasoning behind the Farm Bureau offering a bounty on coyotes. Farmers needed to be able to protect their livestock and too many calves were getting picked off in the fields. But regardless of the logic behind it, killing something without eating it didn’t sit well with her. When the coyotes killed, at least it was to feed themselves and their pups. She had no intention, however, of making that argument. The few townspeople who knew her already thought her being a vegetarian was weird. Something akin to being a New Yorker but less edgy.
She couldn’t help it. Before the farm, she’d never given a second thought, beyond getting a coveted reservation at the hottest new restaurant, to where her food came from. That all changed as soon as she started working with the goats. They had personalities and preferences—Gretchen, the senior nanny goat, was crazy for the dried apple slices Andy kept tucked in her pocket—that made them feel like pets. The chickens were the same way.
She wouldn’t fault anyone for eating meat. She still cooked it for the vets—or rather, Millie did—so they didn’t have a mutiny on their hands, but Andy couldn’t bring herself to dig into a hamburger or roast chicken anymore. Not when she’d spent hours carrying on one-sided conversations with their furry and feathered brethren.
“You can go on back and have a look. There’s a big shepherd on the far side who might work for you. The rest of the larger dogs have a fair bit of hound in them. Unless you have a good fence, I’m not sure they’d stay where you want them to. If you want to take anyone out for a closer look, just come give me the kennel number and I’ll get them out for you.” She motioned to a door with aForever Homeposter on it.
Andy thanked the woman, bracing herself before she opened the door. The barking escalated to a cacophony, bouncing off the cinderblock walls and concrete floors. It would have been loud enough anyway, but aside from the animals, there wasn’t a single soft thing to absorb the sound in the room lined with metal cages. She started on the side with the females, forcing herself to hurry past the cages and not spend too much time meeting the warm brown eyes of the animals housed inside. She had to fight the urge to want to take them all home with her and making eye contact didn’t help.
Despite their cuteness, ignoring the puppies was easy. They’d find homes. The older dogs were harder to walk past. Their futures were less certain. It was a no-kill shelter, but living in a four-foot-square kennel wasn’t much of a life for a dog who ought to be sleeping on someone’s couch or playing in a big yard somewhere.
There were a handful of taller hounds on the side that housed the males and some that looked as if they might have a bit of pit mixed in with them. None of them, including the skinny old German shepherd, seemed right for the job she had. A few lunged at the fence, but most of them stood on the other side and barked, tails wagging, interested but not willing to beg to get her to come closer. It was as if they’d been down that road one too many times before. She almost made it to the end of the row and the last of her options when her steps faltered and she had to stop.
The dog behind the chain link wall would never be a guard dog. The only thing he’d scare was rabbits and even that looked like it might be a near thing. He was some kind of beagle mix, but on the small side with too-short legs and ears that threatened to drag on the ground. He had a skinny, whippy tail and droopy jowls, but it was his eyes that caught and held her. He didn’t bark; he just looked at her, his soft brown eyes burning a hole in her heart. She was projecting; he was a dog, but the look in his eyes made it seem like he was quietly hoping for someone to take him away from all the chaos. Like he wasn’t expecting much but he hadn’t given up hope just yet.
She froze in front of his cage and felt a band around her chest squeeze tight. Against every better instinct she had, she took a step forward, stooping down to his height, and pressed the back of her hand to the chain link. The dog watched her for a moment before curiosity got the better of him and he pushed his cold, wet nose against her skin. She uncurled her fingers and stroked the soft fur covering his cheek through the barrier of his cage.
He wasn’t a puppy. His muzzle hadn’t started to gray, but she would have bet he was on the back side of middle age—older than her in dog years. He wouldn’t be able to protect the goats and he hadn’t barked once, so she doubted he’d be much good at warning anyone. There wasn’t a single thing he could do for her on the farm, and she didn’t give a damn. He leaned into her touch, his back end wiggling like a taller-than-average dachshund as he shook his tail. She stood so she could read the tag on his kennel and he followed her, rising up on his stubby hind legs and pressing his paws against the gate. He let out one low, quiet cry so full of hope and despair her heart broke in a million pieces.
“Fine,” she said out loud, resigning herself. “Maybe we can get a llama to watch the goats.”
––––––––
LIAM TOOK A break before heading to the house. He’d done something to rattle Andy and it hadn’t been on purpose this time. She’d dismissed him so completely at the end, it was like she couldn’t wait to get him out of her sight, which he might understand if he’d been doing something other than trying to say thank you. She’d been more upset that he’d offered to pay for his lodging than she’d been that he’d almost kissed her. Since he planned on doing that again and not stopping next time, he needed to figure out what was going on with Andy and money.
He stopped by the cottage long enough to pull out his laptop and run a quick search. Before he’d come to Sourwood, he’d checked out the farm, but he hadn’t given the owner more than a cursory look. And at the time he thought he’d been looking for a dude. A more thorough search didn’t reveal much of anything else. A couple of articles on the goats’ milk soap, a farmers’ market profile piece and mention in a focus piece on veterans returning home from the Middle East. There was almost nothing on Andy, nothing he didn’t already know. It was as if she magically appeared fully formed three years ago and didn’t exist before that.
The lack of information was more interesting than the few morsels he found. She was hiding something—he’d bet money on it—but what? What could the sexy vegetarian farmer possibly have lurking in her past? Besides hersave the world—give peas a chancetendencies, she was such a stickler for details. He had a hard time imagining her with so much as a parking ticket. Exhausting his meager search resources, he thumbed open his phone and put a call into Southerland Security, working out what to say as he waited for an answer. If he started asking for personal information about a woman, Gabe would see through his bullshit a mile away and mess with him on purpose at every possible opportunity.
Maybe he could hint at some kind of fraud. Just the whiff of something to justify the inquiry. He jettisoned the thought for the chicken-shit idea it was as soon as he had it. No way in hell would he risk damaging Andy’s reputation just to avoid Gabe fucking with him.
“Hey, Jane, it’s Liam,” he said when the receptionist answered. He could have gone directly to Gabe or Andrews but dialing the main number gave him a few minutes to work on his story. Not that the extra time helped. He still had nothing better than“there’s this woman I want to kiss who’s acting weird and I want to figure out why.”Gabe was going to eat him alive. Letting it go for the moment, he asked for whoever was working research. It could be Andrews, not that he’d be much better, but hisfucking with Liamskills weren’t as finally honed as Gabe’s.
“Actually, Emerson asked me to put you through to him the next time you called in,” said Jane. “Hold on a sec and I’ll see if he’s available.”
“Thanks.” Liam smiled to himself.
Emerson would ask him questions but the founder of Southerland Security was too serious and much too busy to make an art form out of messing with him. If he was very lucky, by the time Gabe found out about Andy, Liam would have the benefit of distance. Unless Emerson wanted to tell him he could come back in. Instead of the relief the possibility should give him, he dreaded the idea of leaving Andy and the farm.
In the short time he’d been there, he’d already gotten more attached to the people than he was comfortable admitting. He intended to ignore for the moment that it was Andy who held the tightest pull on him and he was even more committed to ignoring the reasons why. But when he thought about starting his days with something other than yoga with her, his chest tightened and he felt every breath he took. He could ask for more time, say he needed it for Jake. It wasn’t a lie. The younger man seemed to benefit from Liam’s presence and he still wasn’t out of the woods.
“Hey, man,” said Emerson on the other end of the line. “How’s the fishing?”
