“They're cute as hell,” Knox says, with a glance at Ryan.
“Look at that one,” she says, already in love. “The yellow one in the upper left corner. What a sweet little baby!”
The corners of Knox’s lips curve up, and he looks at Ryan as though he’d give her the whole litter if she asked. Looks like one of those perfect little fur-babies already has a home.
Owen pockets his phone, and the drinks and conversation resume.
One beer later, Mark excuses himself, right as the girls and I rush onto the dance floor for one of our favorite line dances. We shake our asses and stomp our feet along with the rest of the line dancers. When we make our final spin back to face the bar, Mark is leaning against the counter watching, a small smile on his face and a fresh beer in his hand. The song ends, and he sets his glass down so he can clap his appreciation for my moves.
I start my walk off the dance floor as a new song begins, but I don’t make it far. A large hand engulfs mine, pulling me back to the center of the dance floor. I don’t need to look to know who it is. The warmth of his hand sends shivers up my arm, and as much as I love his touch, right here, right now, it freaks me out. There are too many eyes on us.
"Dance with me, Clover."
Rather than cause a scene, I let him guide me across the floor, and without warning, he spins me out in front of him like he has so many times before. And like all those times before, the speed at which he throws me around brings on a fit of giggles. I’m glad I wore boy shorts under my short dress because my asswould be on display to everyone, including my brothers. Ick. We swing along to the fast-paced song until I’m breathless, and he pulls me in close, switching to a two-step.
“I finally finished your birthday present,” he says, before blowing my hair out of my face for me. The hint of root beer tickles my nose. “I know it’s late, but I think you’ll like it.”
“What do you meanyoufinished it?”
“Don’t doubt my ability to do arts and crafts, little missy. I have plenty of skills you have yet to lay your eyes on.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me.”
“You’re afraid of a lot of things these days.”
“Don’t start.”
“Fine.”
He swings me around his back, out in front of him, and then under his hands and back behind him, and before I know it, he’s dipping me. “Try not to yell my name tonight when you fake your orgasm with your houseguest.”
“Asshole.” I should be nice to him, since his hold on me is the only thing keeping my ass off the ground, but where’s the fun in that?
He brings me upright, and for all to see, he whispers in my ear. “You know you’ll wish it was me in your bed, so it would only be natural for my name to slip out in the throes of the mediocre pleasure he’ll bring you.” His hands grasp me by the shoulders to spin me toward my out-of-town visitor, and then he shoves me toward the bar. “Go get ‘em, cowgirl. And don’t forget, his name is Mark.”
And just like that, Owen Swift is in my head the rest of the night. As are flashes of New York and freshly inked tattoos.
Unfortunately for Mark, this inconvenience means I fake an upset stomach, and he doesn’t get what he came to Goose Hollow for.
He isn’t Owen.
Chapter Four
Owen
Last night when I walked into the bar and spotted Daisy in her short little summer dress and her baby blue cowboy boots, I nearly threw her over my shoulder and ran out of the building. And just like last night, when I open the door to the fire station, my heart skips a beat.
She is the sweetest damn thing I’ve ever seen.
Sitting on the floor with one puppy sound asleep in her lap and one in her hands licking her face is the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met. With her chestnut shoulder-length hair pushed behind one of her ears, her face is left exposed, displaying her heart-stopping smile.
I had every intention of avoiding this place today and every day until I had heard all six puppies had found homes. But as so often happens, Daisy derailed my plans. I was minding my own business on my way to football practice when I saw her car parked out front, and my Jeep acted of its own accord and parked right next to hers.
Not only do I not have time for a puppy, I don’t have time for a pit stop on my way to round one of the daily doubles I’m coaching today. But seeing her beaming the way she is, time be damned. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.
Clearly, the men on duty wouldn't either, because they all sit enamored by her presence, watching her play with puppies.
A pang of jealousy teases my insides, but it’s not because they're watching her; it’s because they’re getting to spend time with her and I’m not.
