“Mmm…” she muttered.
“Which aisle should I start with?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just trying to figure out what I wanted for dinner. Aisle four. Try the Farmer’s Dog food, honey. That won’t bite ya too much in the ass.”
“Thank you.” As I headed in that direction, I heard her harsh whisper.
“Course I wouldn’t mind biting you in the ass.”
With an amused huff, I headed to aisle four, finding the brand she was talking about. Beef? Maybe. Lamb and Rice? Salmon? Oh, fuck me. I had no clue. From what I could tell, Sailor was pretty young and like all growing boys, he needed meat. That’s what I picked. After finding a bag of reasonably priced dog treats, I wandered the store in search of a decent collar.
The jingle of the bell over the door drew my attention a couple of minutes later. Roxie squealed almost immediately and had it not been for the melodic jazz music coming from unseen speakers, her shrill voice would have caused echoes. I tried not to pay attention, but another female voice managed to pull me away from my scrutiny of collars.
“I’m sorry there’s only one, Roxie. I’ve just been so busy. Trying to establish the clinic. Working on the ranch. All too much.”
“Oh, girl. I am over the moon,” Roxie told her. “You need to have your own art show.”
“Ha! I don’t think so.”
The melodic tone of the woman’s voice caused something troublesome, my cock turning stiff as a rock. When the fuck had that occurred just from a woman’s voice?
I moved to the end of the aisle, peering around the corner. While my luck with women had been shit my entire life, that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate a creation of beauty when I was lucky enough to be graced with such a stunning work of art.
While I was no poet, the woman with the honey-blonde hair kissed by the sun whose smile could light up a room darkened by death brought out words of artistry.
If not ones of filthy desire.
Stark, extremely filthy images of her voluptuous, naked body writhing under mine ravaged my mind. In the dirty fantasy, I could hear her soft, vibrant moans just before she screamed my name. Damn, my balls were tight.
She was young, in her middle twenties with a chiseled bone structure and long legs accentuated by a pair of jeans that had seen better days. Much like the ones I was wearing. With Roxie holding a canvas in her hand, the unknown beauty was nervously raking an unseen strand of hair behind her ear.
The silent cry of embarrassment dragged me from my hiding place and further into the open. Maybe she’d sensed movement since she looked in my direction but wasn’t truly focusing. That’s when I realized she was staring at the pictures on the walls as I’d done before.
She was the artist. A painter.
“Oh, Grace. This is incredible. Your best one yet. I cannot wait to add to my collection. Don’t worry about the second painting. It’ll be worth the wait.” Roxie was flustered with her excitement.
It had been a long time since I’d been this attracted to a woman, let alone enough to hide behind a display of stuffed dog toys. But that’s what I was doing, studying and memorizing every inch of her exquisite face like a trained stalker would do.
Grace.
While her name was lovely, the classical, almost religious connotation didn’t match the dirty thoughts that had chained themselves to my brain.
“Let me get you a check,” Roxie continued.
“Thanks, Roxie. Do you mind if I put up a flyer on your bulletin board about the clinic tomorrow? I’ve been so busy, I forget all about it.”
“Help yourself, honey.”
Clinic. Whatever she was advertising piqued my curiosity.
With a mental push, I continued my shopping. By the time I did, Grace was just heading out the door.
I quickly glanced at the new picture where Roxie had placed it against the wall, which she continued admiring until I moved toward the register. Then all eyes were on me, Roxie’s lips pursed.
Saying nothing while the items were rung up, I noticed Sailor was at the passenger window of the truck, pawing the partially cracked glass. The bright exterior light presented a scene closely resemblingTheExorcist.Grace moved closer to my vehicle, her face pinched, obviously angry with the dumbass who’d left him in the car on a hot summer night.
Her shoulders tensed. Her breath was sucked in. Her fists clenched. And she snapped her head in the direction of the store. And I’d be damned if through the thick glass she didn’t lock eyes with mine.
