Her pulse kicked up another notch, and the dog pressed himself tighter to her legs.
“He’s the one growling at me. I should be the one terrified,” Liam said, keeping his hands at his side.
Honestly, the man oozed bad ass.She doubted he could look non-threatening if he tried.
“Is he named after some kind of Beatrix Potter character?”
“No,” she said, ignoring the tug her ovaries gave at the fact that he knew enough about the author of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle to ask the question. “He came with the name, but I think it suits him.” It did too. He had a kind of wriggling otter body and the rusty coloring of a fox over his shoulders and back. “You have some kind of Peter Rabbit fetish?” It felt good to tease him for a change.
“My fetishes don’t run in the bunny direction,” he said, letting enough heat slide into his voice to make her wonder what direction they did run.
“You’re not expecting him to guard the goats, are you?” he asked, drawing her out of her lust-filled haze.
“Of course not,” she said, saying a quick silent prayer that he wouldn’t ask her why she’d gotten the little dog.
I saw him and had to bring him home because I love himwas exactly the kind of answer to get her laughed at. Besides, she didn’t need to explain herself to anyone, especially not to the guy who might not be around much longer. Not that he showed any sign of leaving. Not that she wanted him to go.
“Isn’t there somewhere you need to be?” she asked, knowing full well there wasn’t, but wanting a way to get him to move along. He took up too much space and made it hard for her to think clearly. All of her best-laid plans seemed to fade when she stared into his ice-blue eyes. It was dangerous.
He reached out to stroke a finger over her cheek and Otter Fox turned up the volume on his growl. She fought to keep from leaning into Liam’s touch, grateful at the moment for the weight of the dog pinning her feet in place.
“I can find something to do,” he said, letting his voice drop so she had to pay attention to hear what he was saying. “But I haven’t forgotten we have unfinished business. I’m not going to let you forget it either.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek. At their feet, the dog’s growling ramped up to something that at least sounded menacing. “Easy, little man,” Liam said, taking a step back. “I’m not going to hurt your mistress, and before this is over, you and I are going to be friends.”
He grabbed the bag of food from the back of the truck and headed into the house, leaving her standing there with a growling dog on her feet. Both of them watched his receding form, although she had a feeling she paid more attention to the way the muscles of his shoulders bunched—and to the way his jeans hugged his ass—than Otter Fox did.
The screen door banged closed after Liam, and she glanced down at the dog, who gave one last growl for good measure. Liam might be the only thing the furry guy could protect her from and she had a feeling even that was a lost cause. Especially since she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted protection. Part of her—mostly her lady parts—wanted to surrender to the tension building between them and see what happened when it finally broke.
“Well, we sure showed him,” she said, nudging her feet free of his furry butt. “Let’s go see what Millie’s up to. You can try your paws at charming her out of some corn bread.”
––––––––
LIAM WAS STILL smiling to himself when he finally made it to the shed where Jake was parking the tractor. Andy had gone to the pound to get a guard dog and come back with what looked like an artificially shortened beagle. The little guy was cute, even if he did literally put himself between Liam and the woman who was taking up an increasingly large piece of real estate in his head. It was okay. It would take more than an Otter Fox to throw him off his game. He was going to get Andy alone later and spend some quality time exploring whatever this thing was between them. He was tired of waiting and he was pretty sure if he left things up to her, she’d find a way to dance away from him until they ran out of time. In the meantime, he could make himself useful and do what he’d come to the farm to do.
“Hey there,” he said, raising his voice just enough to be sure Jake heard him approaching so he didn’t startle the younger man. It was hard to know what triggered someone. Without knowing the story, it didn’t always make sense. He’d known guys for whom something as ordinary as driving on a dirt road was enough to fling them back into the hell they’d come from. It was just easier to eliminate as many variables as possible. He still hated the way Jake cringed at the sound of his voice.
“Hey yourself,” said Jake, schooling his expression.
He shut down his emotions so quickly, Liam would have missed the flash of fear if he hadn’t been watching for it. Jake went back to screwing around with something on the tractor, and Liam paused for a moment. It was the third or fourth time that day he’d been dismissed by someone. It was starting to become a thing. If he was inclined to second-guess himself, he’d be wondering if it was something he’d done.
“I thought maybe if you were done with the plowing, we could go grab a beer and talk.”
It would be the first time they’d left the farm together. He had a feeling it might be the first time Jake left the farm since coming there, but it had to happen sooner or later. The change of scenery might make it easier for them to talk. The younger man was holding a lot of shit inside. If he wasn’t careful, it would eat at him from the inside out. Liam had some personal experience with the concept.
“I ought to check the hydraulics.”
“It will be there tomorrow. Come on.” He layered his voice with the tone he’d used when he’d commanded Jake’s unit.
He could tell by his expression that the younger man didn’t want to comply but old training died hard. There was a reason they drilled that shit into enlistees.
By the time they made the walk back to the farmhouse and his SUV, Liam’s leg picked up its familiar ache. It was okay. When they got to the bar, he’d wash a handful of ibuprofen down with his IPA. Assuming there was a bar within easy driving distance. He should have thought to ask one of the other guys where the nearest place was. He thought he remembered seeing a place in the small town he’d come through on the way to the farm. At a bare minimum, there had to be somewhere to grab something to eat. It was the change of scenery that was important, not the alcohol. Although the chemical relaxant didn’t hurt either, at least in moderation.
He made it to the end of the lane without hitting any of the ruts—Andy could use a load of gravel—and turned toward the town. The farther they got from the sign for the farm, the tighter Jake’s grip got on the armrest. Liam was debating whether he’d made a mistake dragging him away from the farm when the black sedan roared past them without even bothering to slow down. It moved too fast for Liam to get a clear read of the plates, but something about the car wormed its way around the back of his brain. It was a normal Mercedes. Unusual for out in the country but not exceptionally rare.
The tinted windows were out of the norm but not so far out. It sure as hell hadn’t seemed like the driver of the car was the least bit interested in them. The car had been going so fast when it passed, he doubted whoever was driving had even noticed them, and the Mercedes hadn’t hung around afterward to see where they were going. Although in all honesty, the road pretty much only went one place. It wasn’t like there were a lot of communities between the farm and the town. It was probably just some asshole passing through, looking for a chance to see what his expensive car could do. If they were lucky, the local cops would catch them and give them acome to Jesusmeeting with a fine large enough to fund some municipality services.
They drove the rest of the way in silence—the uncomfortable kind, not the companionable type. This conversation definitely needed beer. He pulled the SUV into a gravel lot in front of a single-story building with windows lit by neon beer signs. When he pulled open the door, he blinked for a moment against the lack of light, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. He hated dark bars. It was part of the job. They were fine once his eyes had a chance to adjust, but the momentary night blindness made him nervous. Vulnerable. He felt a thin ribbon of adrenaline weave through his system. His mind knew there wasn’t anything to be afraid of in the tiny small-town hangout, but it didn’t stop his body from responding to the imagined danger. He felt Jake come up short behind him and knew he must be feeling a similar sensation.
“I saw a pirate thing onMythBusters,” he said, taking a step inside the room but pausing to let them both get their bearings. Being silhouetted in the doorway—the fatal funnel—was worse than standing in the dark, even if the only threat to them at the moment was greasy fries and watered-down drinks. “They tested the idea that pirates wore eye patches so one eye stayed adjusted to the dark.” He was rambling but he could feel the tension rolling off Jake in waves. If he kept talking, maybe he’d relax.
