Bristol shakes her head, delivering the best answer she possibly could have. “No, no way. It’s not about the money I could make. You know, I’ve never had a desire to have my own practice, to make money off of a family’s need for healthcare for their pets. I want to work with the neediest, the forgotten, the abandoned, the harmed, the injured and most vulnerable. I want to heal them and contribute to giving them the second chance at a life they deserve, a life that every living, breathing thing on Earth deserves. A chance at happiness and health,” she rambles on, and fuck, I could listen to her talk passionately about this all day long and it would never get old. My food and coffee long forgotten, I drop my forearms to the counter, leaning forward to listen intently. “These babies . . .” she says as she holds out her arms in a show. “They need me here. They’re vulnerable, lost, and if I can help them, ease their pain for even a fleeting moment, that’s how I want to spend my time.” She picks up her coffee and does a double take as she looks at me. I don’t know what my face says, but hers brightens with a smile. “What?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “Just in awe of you,” I tell her honestly.
She blinks several times, a slow shuddering of her eyes like she’s processing my words. “Mmm. Well, I’m not that great, but thank you, you’re very sweet. Any pets of your own, or do you just love on all the shelter animals?”
“I have a pet bunny, actually. Mr. Bun-Buns.”
Bristol sputters on her latte, coughing twice before her head falls back in a deep laugh that I feel in my soul. Fuck, she’s incredible.
“What’s so funny about that?”
“Have you seen yourself, Rhys? Do you own a mirror?”
“Yeah, of course I do. What are you saying? Men can’t own bunnies?” I ask, mocking being offended, my hand flying up to my chest.
“Oh, no, they most certainly can. But you’re like the size of a bear, you look like you would eat little unsuspecting bunnies for dinner and use their bones as toothpicks.”
I laugh at her analogy. “Rude, actually. And have you never heard of a gentle giant, Dr. Owens?” I ask, leaning forward further over the desk into her space just slightly, my voice lower, quieter than before. I don’t miss the way her breathing hitches, and I love the way she reacts to me. If only I could touch her. I bet she would melt under my touch.
“Is that you, then, Rhys? A gentle giant?” Her voice is barely a whisper, as if she’s just as affected as I am by the proximity. Her pretty hazel eyes peek up at me through her eyelashes as she looks up. It takes all my strength not to reach out and tuck a rogue piece of hair behind her ears; I just need to touch her.
“Most of the time, depending on what the situation calls for.” Not wanting to tell her that I’ve gouged out a man’s eyes with my thumbs before, and that there was nothing gentle about that. “Now tell me, do you have any pets?”
“Pets? Oh, god no, Blake would never . . .” Bristol’s eyes go wide for a moment, and then her entire demeanor changes right before my eyes. She retreats, sliding her chair out, putting space between us, her smile dropping instantly. She composes herself quickly, masking the woman who was just with me.
Reading how she’s clearly uncomfortable, I stand back up, allowing her more of the space she clearly wants. My heart sinks as dread starts to fester and spread through me like a disease. I try to control my outward emotions, but nausea starts to churn in the pit of my stomach. Who the fuck isBlake?
“Blake would never?” I ask to clarify, bracing for the hit.
“My, uhm, my fiancé, Blake, he isn’t an animal person, so we don’t have any pets. I soak up all their love while I’m at work,” she says, her spine straight and shoulders back, but there’s no missing the shakiness of her voice, like she’s not completely comfortable sharing that she has a fiancé. Meanwhile, my world flips on its axis, the air sucked from my lungs, my heart lodged in my throat as pain lances through the organ.
Fiancé.
She’s engaged. My perfect woman is marrying someone who isn’t me.
Fuck.
Well, she’s not married yet. I wonder if she’d forgive me if I killed him.
Chapter Eight
BRISTOL
Rhys showing up at the shelter is unexpected, when I absolutely expected to never see him again, but I can’t deny the feeling that washed over me when he stepped through the door. He’s like a ray of sunshine after a rainy day, he’s happiness, and warmth, and safety, and I’ve only shared fleeting moments with him, and I have no way of actually knowing those things, but Ifeelthem nonetheless.
Rhys looks absolutely gutted, and guilt gnaws at me. I can’t pinpoint exactly what for, and that’s a problem. Guilt that he’s clearly stunned and disappointed, or guilt that for the entire conversation, I haven’t once thought about Blake or the fact that I’m engaged, until it came up accidentally.
Even though bringing me coffee and breakfast is innocent enough, it’s still very clear that he’s interested, and not once did I come close to telling him that I’m off the market, until it slipped out. How long would I have let him flirt with me before I came clean? What the hell is wrong with me?You’re notgetting your needs met at home, that’s what’s wrong. Kira’s voice rings out in my head, as if I needed the reminder.
Rhys fills me with something I’ve never felt before. I don’t know how this man is going to fit into my life, but I know I want him in it. Maybe he’s open to being friends, connections like this can be platonic and still deep. Look at Kira and me. I’m madly in love with her, and there’s nothing romantic or sexual about it.
“Are you ready to get to work?” I offer, needing to change the topic and hoping like hell I didn’t ruin everything and scare him off.
“Like I said, anything for you.” And when he says those words, I can’t help the uncontrollable flutter my heart does inside my chest. He can’t possibly mean that, so I decide to challenge him a bit, give him some of the jobs no one wants. Volunteers are so quick to come in when they think it’s all fun and games and animal snuggles. There’s so much more to be done here than taking the dogs for walks or giving the cats attention.
“Okay, it’s your lucky day then because I really need the kennels cleaned and floors mopped.” Rhys doesn’t bat an eye, just follows me into the back, where I lead him to a storage room. After unlocking the door, I push it open wide enough to walk through, with Rhys right behind me. Moving toward the back, I look for the mop, bucket, and cleaner when the door slams shut behind us with a loud bang.
“Holy shit!” I yell, jumping slightly at the noise as the room is quickly cloaked in darkness. Rhys’ hands are on me a split second later, grasping me on either side of my waist, his strong fingers pressing into the soft flesh there enough tosteady me.
