Maeve’s face falls. “That’s awful,” she murmurs. “I didn’t know that. Have you ever treated one of them before?”
Ivan chuckles next to me. “My first day training under him we had someone bring in an injured pigeon?—”
“Rock dove,” I correct him.
“Right. Rock dove. I learned a lot that day.”
“Rock dove,” Maeve repeats wistfully. “I like referring to them like that.”
“They’re beautiful birds,” I say. “And wholly misunderstood.”
Maeve continues to look at me, her eyes soft, and my chest tightens.
My dove.
The pet name comes unbidden, and I find that I don’t mind it.
“Wow, Logan,” she breathes. “I didn’t know you were such a bleeding heart.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I’m not. I just find it interesting.”
“You advocate for the misunderstood,” she argues. “That’s admirable. And super sweet. I amsoglad my first impression of you was completely wrong.”
Ivan barks out a laugh while I grimace.
“You startled me,” I admit. “With your energy and your—” I motion to her face—“all ofthis.”
It’s hard to describe what I mean.
Maeve is a bright ball of energy, a hurricane of loveliness that demands my immediate attention.
I can barely breathe properly when she’s looking at me, let alone when I scent her.
Maeve copies my gesture. “All ofthis?”
“What he means to say,” Ivan says, elbowing me in the side, “is that you’re beautiful.”
Ivan’s not wrong, but I don’t want to make Maeve uncomfortable. We’ve only known each other for a few days, and I don’t want to assume that she would be okay with me agreeing with Ivan.
But her face flushes pink, and she raises a challenging eyebrow at me, waiting for my reply.
She’s the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. If she would let me, I could stare at her all day, taking in her button nose, full pink lips, and piercing amber eyes.
“That’s what I mean,” I say sincerely, and her face breaks out into a smile so stunning I forget how to breathe.
Lovely. She’slovely.
With the compliment, her scent becomes more potent. There’s a sweeter note to it now, mixing with the chamomile.
“Well, then,” she says. “Now that that’s settled.”
She beams, and I’m enamored.
“Oh, also,” Ivan says to Maeve. “I forgot to ask you. How did guitar class go?”
“Guitar?” I ask.
Maeve nods. “I need to stop freaking out about the cats all the time,” she says. “Like you saw the other day. And my brother suggested that I get a hobby, basically, so I don’t get stuck in my own head. He enrolled me in guitar.”
