There was some maneuvering at my door, then it was swinging open as if it hadn’t been locked.
I was too close to throwing up to complain.
I was also too far gone to wonder who it was that had just entered my house.
The man’s first words confirmed my suspicions, though.
“You okay?” Creed asked.
Creed freakin’ Daughterty.
Literally, again, it could’ve been anyone who took me out today. And it had to be him. The one man who could really make me sit up and pay attention.
When I’d first encountered Creed, it’d been at my lowest of lows.
We’d just figured out that my mother was a trash human being. I’d been forced to move out of the pool house at Mable’s place—though she hadn’t necessarily been kicking me out as much as she’d wanted her father—my stepfather—and my mother—her stepmother—out of her home.
If I’d known that it wasn’t Tom’s, I would’ve totally gotten the hell out of that house a long time ago. But I’d been in school for so damn long, trying to get my doctorate in animal science, that I’d been pretty lazy and uninspired to move out and go my own way.
At first, I’d started animal science on a whim.
My stepfather had been a dog breeder when we met him.
I’d been infatuated with the strong animals.
From there, I’d fallen in love with animals of all kinds, and eventually, into the biology of many species.
As a way to escape my poor home life, I’d thrown myself into research and eventually my degree.
My mother showing her true colors had happened at just the right time, seeing as I’d finally graduated with my doctorate.
It’d given me the kick I needed to get the hell out of there and start my own life.
I’d fallen into a job, too, with the state.
It definitely wasn’t what I’d always envisioned—being a snake milker. But it was a fairly interesting job that would hold me over until the one that I really wanted happened to pop up.
Since I wasn’t willing to relocate or do anything via technology, my job openings were limited.
I wanted something here, within a couple of hours of my hometown.
I didn’t know why I had such a desire to stay, but every time I thought about leaving, panic would start to tighten my chest.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Creed freakin’ Daugherty.
Jesus, the man was lethal.
Tall, broad, and so damn male it made my teeth ache, he was the literal epitome of my dream man.
He had sandy-brown hair, pale-green eyes, and a bushy beard that covered what I knew to be a very strong jaw.
He walked like a predator, too.
Every time that I was in his vicinity, I felt like a damn weakling compared to him. It was as if his masculine energy swallowed all the air in our shared space.
“I’m trying,” I lied. “How’d you get in here?”
