“Really?” He looks impressed.
“Yeah. So, why are you up here and not in park housing?”
He shrugs. “It’s full. What about you?”
I shrug too. “Got my reasons.”
Like I sleepwalk. I have since my mom died. I have the most vivid dreams of being ten again, of searching for her and not being able to find her until I wake up crying, realizing she’s gone.
I don’t need my coworkers seeing that side of me. No one does. It’s been a battle just earning their respect on the job.
Scanning this towering specimen, I don’t know yet if Mr. Slurpee will be a work daddy or a work dude. Translation: Daddies treat you like their daughter, like you’re a child; Dudes treat you like a party girl, like you’re a game.
Both of them are bullshit because I have a biology degree, years of job experience, a black belt, and my dad taught me how to be a better shot than any man, so I’m Ranger Allen. I’m a woman in a male-dominated field who knows better than to fuck with her colleagues. Literally.
Though scanning Mr. Slurpee—all inked, bursting with muscles, and tonguing his red straw—my lonely body is not pleased with my stance.
But my pride is in charge, telling him, “Well, welcome to the neighborhood and the job.”
“Thanks.”
He angles back, whistling, and the cutest golden furball jumps down from his truck, running to me.
“Hey there, cutie.” I squat, petting him. “You gonna be my new neighbor?”
He licks my face, I laugh, but his master barks, “Mutt! Let’s go.”
The dog turns, obeying, as I rise. “Your dog is sweet.”
“So are you,” he answers. “You just saved Mutt Damon and me from a bunch of boring stalking.” Throwing up his massive hand, he calls, “Night.”
And he does it again.
He turns, about to ghost me with my heart racing, but not this time. “What’s your name? I’ll need it for the restraining order.”
Over his burly shoulder, he glances back, his sexy smile rising, but my self-esteem won’t let me believe it’s for me.
Nope, too many years of being bullied made sure my ego doesn’t get too big for my britches. That was my bully’s joke: me and my curves in my britches.
“Loch,” he offers. “Loch Waring. And you’re?”
Still, with the way he turns, casting his sparkling eyes at me. With the way the light hits them, like sunset over a blue ocean, I can pretend his warm smile is for me.
“Alena Allen. Your new neighbor, fellow ranger, and if you’re not a total big dick, yeah, we can be friends.”
“No big dicks?” Dramatically, he shudders. “Should I just cut it off now?”
Did I just laugh? Yes.
Did I just ogle down at his big bulge? Yup.
Did I just flash back up? Wide-eyed and guilty with my cheeks on fire?Kill me now. Because he’s busting me with that smile again.
“If you insist”—he sighs—“but I’ll need a two-man saw to cut it off.”
“Is that who you’re into? Two men?” I cock a brow, totally seducing, totally sucking at it. “I’m cool with it.”
No, I’m not. I’m all hot and bothered by thoughts of Loch being into anyone.
