“Oh, fuck,” I whispered and put the car in park. I had only done a cursory look in my rearview mirror. It wasn't a busy street. But I hadn't considered pedestrians.
I rushed out of the car and around the back.
“Oh, fuck!” I dropped to my knees beside the guy on the ground.
He was curled into a fetal position, but I soon realized it wasn't to protect himself. A little furry face poked out of his arms and big brown eyes stared at me. A puppy. I had almost murdered a fucking puppy!
“Shit! Oh, fuck. Are you okay? I know I wasn't going that fast. Are you all right, little one?” I stroked the puppy's nose.
“It's been a long time since someone called me little,” a rich baritone drawled.
The man unfolded himself, freeing the puppy, who immediately came over to sniff me. Absently, I stroked the dog, but I couldn't pull my stare away from the man. Blonde, buff, and beautiful. A sun god come to Earth. Just stunning. And like the sun, I knew if I stared too long, it would be bad for me.
I cleared my throat. “I was talking to your dog.”
“I know, sugah.” He grinned, revealing perfect teeth, and pulled up a knee. Crooking his arm on his knee, he relaxed as if he sat on the sidewalk after getting hit by a car all the time. “I think the first inquiry was for me, though. Right?”
“Oh. Yes, of course. I'm so sorry. Are you all right?”
“Well.” He looked himself over. “My shirt has seen better days, and I think I bruised my shoulder when I fell. Maybe my thigh too, though that was from your car. All in all, not too bad for being hit. And as long as Bruno is okay, I'm happy.”
“Bruno?” I looked at the puppy. It was a white puff of silken fur, with a gray V-shaped pattern around its neck that came down its chest, and a gray cap atop its head that went down into another V. It looked as if it had been painted on, but I recognized the breed. “Is this an Alaskan Malamute?”
“Well done! You know your dogs.”
“I know they're mellow dogs, but I didn't know they were this mellow, even as puppies.”
“Most are more playful, but Bruno is an old soul.” He winked at me, then stroked the dog's head, flopping its ears about. “Aren't you, Bruno?”
“He's going to get big.”
“Indeed. I figured he would grow into his name.” He stood up, brushed himself off, and held a hand down to me.
I put Bruno down—I don't know when he had climbed onto my lap, but there he was—and took the man's hand. I swear, I felt a tingle when we touched, but it could have just been hormones. He helped me to my feet, bringing me close, then just stared at me.
Bruno yipped.
Clearing his throat, the man let go of me. “You're absolutely right, Bruno. That was forward of me.” He grinned and held out his hand again. “I'm Ace Pouderoux.”
“Of course you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“I'm sorry.” I shook his hand. “No, it's just a very manly name.”
“Oh. Well, thank you. It's just a nickname. My real name is so atrocious, I can't stand to even whisper it.”
I laughed. “I understand. I'm Salina Haven. Nice to meet you.”
“Of course you are,” he teased. “Truly, it's a lovely name. Sounds like a celebrity.”
“It does, doesn't it?” I smirked. “Or even two.”
“You are an unusual woman.”
“Am I?”
“Oh, yes. I can tell.”
