“We need to get dressed,” I murmured against her hair. “Before someone comes looking.”
She nodded, reluctant. I helped her slide off me, already missing the heat of her. We fumbled back into clothes—jeans sticking to damp skin, shirts yanked on haphazardly—stealing touches, small kisses, like we couldn’t stand not to.
When we were decent, I caught her chin and made her look at me. “Tonight, after we finish here, I’m taking you to dinner. Then I’m taking you home. And I’m going to lay you out on my bed and make love to you properly. Slow. Thorough. Until you forget everything except how good we feel together.”
Her smile was shy, bright, perfect. “I like that plan,” she whispered.
I kissed her one more time—soft, promising—then opened the door.
She climbed out first. I followed a minute later, stepping back into the sunlight like nothing had changed.
But everything had.
And I couldn’t help but be hopeful for the future.
5
PEYTON
Icouldn’t stop smiling.
It was becoming a problem. Every time I tried to school my expression into something professional—something appropriate for a volunteer coordinator at a rescue operation—I’d catch Warrick’s eye across the lot, and my face would betray me all over again.
He wasn’t helping. Every glance he sent my way was loaded with heat, with promise, with memories of what we’d just done in the back seat of his truck. My skin still tingled where he’d touched me. I could still feel the phantom press of his mouth on my neck, the delicious soreness between my thighs.
Focus, Peyton. Dogs. Rescue. Work.
I threw myself back into the operation, directing volunteers, checking on animals, doing anything to keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. It mostly worked. Except for the moments when Warrick passed close enough for me to catch his scent, and my whole body lit up like a Christmas tree.
“You okay?” Joel asked, giving me a strange look as I fumbled with a clipboard for the third time in ten minutes. “You seem distracted.”
“Fine. Just tired.” I forced a neutral expression. “Long day.”
“It’s barely four o’clock.”
“Long two days, then.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. Thank God for small mercies.
The afternoon sun had started its descent toward the mountains when a black sedan pulled into the lot. It wasn’t a rescue vehicle or a volunteer’s car—this one was too clean, too deliberate. Official.
A woman climbed out, young but carrying herself with authority. She had dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and the kind of tired eyes that suggested she’d seen the inside of too many meetings. I recognized her from local news coverage, from the ribbon-cutting ceremony when the firehouse opened.
Mayor Tessa Pearce.
My stomach dropped.
She surveyed the operation with a practiced eye, her expression carefully neutral. Then her gaze landed on Warrick—who was already walking toward her—and something shifted in her posture. Recognition. History. I drifted closer, pretending to check on a nearby kennel while I watched them talk.
“Warrick.” Tessa’s voice was pleasant but businesslike. “I had a feeling I’d find you here.”
“Mayor.” He shook her hand, every inch the polished property owner. “What brings you out?”
“Calls.” She sighed, glancing around at the organized mayhem. “Several of them, actually. Business owners on the neighboring parcels have concerns. Traffic, noise, the general…” She gestured vaguely. “Nature of things.”
“The rescue operation is temporary. A few weeks at most.”
“I understand that. And I’m sympathetic—truly. What Dr. Hanson is doing here is important work.” Tessa’s expression softened slightly. “But I have to balance everyone’s interests. Thecouncil is already asking questions about the lease terms, about whether proper approvals were obtained for an operation of this size.”
