Brookes takes a slow drink. “Yeah. It was impossible to look away.”
Warmth floods my cheeks. “You should have told me.”
“You were busy,” Mason says.
“Doing what?”
“Talking.”
I shake my head, trying to recover some ground. “You two spend all night watching other people eat cake, or am I special?”
Brookes’s mouth curves slightly. “Special. Definitely special.”
I gulp from the bottle, suddenly aware of how close they both are, how easily the conversation has slipped into one that feels… pointed.
“So,” Mason says after a beat, “Joelle said you work with animals?”
They talked about me with Joelle? “Yeah. I spend my days wrangling sick beasts into accepting treatment they don’t want or understand.”
He snorts. “That so? What kind?”
“Mostly farm calls. Some clinic work. Whatever comes my way.”
“That explains it,” he says.
“Explains what?”
“You’re calm,” he replies. “I bet you’re good with animals. They can sense a person's energy.”
I glance at him, catching the brief flicker in his expression before it settles again, controlled as ever.
“Yeah. You have to stay calm, or they'll get skittish. Especially the bigger animals. It can be dangerous to get close.”
“Not all big animals are dangerous,” Mason says with a wink. “Some of us look intimidating until someone scratches behind our ears.”
I snort, but it’s a cover for the swell of heat that runs beneath my skin.
“Or rubs our bellies,” Brookes adds.
I give a startled laugh. “Is that what turns you on?”
“Maybe,” he smiles. “Men like to be touched. We’re easy on where.”
“That so?”
“Well…” He turns to me. “There are some favored places.”
“I’m sure there are.” Without meaning to, my gaze drops to the seam over his jeans bulging over his crotch.
It’s his turn to laugh. “Exactly.”
My cheeks are an instant inferno.
“What about you?” Mason asks.
“What about me?”
“Where do you like to be touched, Janey?”
