“Easier said than done.” She grabs a med kit from the counter and brings it to the table. “Not that your bed isn’t comfy. It’s just hard getting used to a new place, is all.”
It’s hard to reconcile this woman with the lanky string bean I last remember her to be. She’s softer now, with curves that tie my thoughts in knots, and every time she leans in close to watch me work, her scent—something sweet like vanilla—fills my lungs and scrambles my thoughts.
I extend my hand. “Grab me the Hen Healer from that bag.”
CLUCK-CLUCK-CLUCK!
She sifts through the contents, a smile widening on her mouth when she finds the salve. “Here!”
I clean and treat Gerry’s wounds. He pecks and clucks his indignation, which is only quelled when Greer places a handful of mealworms on the table.
“I’ve always wanted to work with animals,” she confesses.
“That could still happen.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sorry, but you’re the last person who should be giving me career advice.”
Offended, I snap, “And why is that?”
“Because you got your associate’s at seventeen, when most people were getting their high school diploma. Then you went in the military and took full-time classes while enlisted.”
I hate that she’s comparing herself to me, especially after knowing what she’s dealing with.
But those feelings she has can’t be fixed in the span of a conversation. They have to be chipped away at over time, which I aim to do.
“I’d argue that I was more driven than smart, but I get your frustration.” I put Gerry back in his enclosure and grab my work bag. “The kitchen’s fully stocked. Make yourself at home.”
Her face falls, and a tinge of guilt needles me.
“I’d love to stay and help more, but I have important clients to attend to, like Elliot the Emu, who needs a house call.”
Greer bites her plump lower lip, and the sight sends a bolt of heat straight through me. Those lips—soft, full, begging to be kissed until they’re swollen and breathless. I imagine them greedy and demanding, wanting more and more from me. More than I’ve given a woman in quite some time. The thought nearly makes me groan aloud.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I swore off women years ago.
But something about Greer sends my mind into a tailspin.
I clear my throat. “If you need anything, call the office. The number’s on the refrigerator.”
She shifts nervously in her stance. “Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I tagged along?”
As I’m about to go full-grump on her because she needs to be focused on her studies, I realize she probably doesn’t want to be stuck in my cabin all day alone.
“I guess it’d be good for you to get a feel for the town. There’s a diner that makes a mean pie, and a library that might have things to help you study.” I look at my watch. “Be ready in twenty.”
She bounds toward my bedroom, which I insisted she take, closing the door behind her.
Dread coils deep within me, creating a hollow feeling I thought I’d left behind.
This was supposed to be simple. A favor for her brother. A roof. A bed. No complications.
But having her around makes me remember a time when loneliness didn’t rule my life.
She reappears in record time wearing baggy jeans and a tight-fitted yellow shirt that accentuates the dramatic curve from her waist to her hips, and my brain all but short-circuits.
My mouth goes dry; I have to force myself to look away before she catches me staring like a starved wolf.
“Ready,” she chirps, rushing for the door.
