I deflate. So maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was a mistake after all. I swallow my disappointment and put on a bright smile. “That it does.”
When we head into the feed store, I’m immediately greeted with a space that smells like country. Like grain, earthy and dusty. The scent of molasses from sweet feed. Leather from the tack section. It’s a dry, dense, working smell, and probably very ordinary to everyone who comes in here, but to me it’s still exotic.
Slade grabs a cart and pushes it while I toss in all the supplies he’ll need as a brand new dog owner. Metal bowls, dog food, a collar and a metal tag. We take it over the machine that stamps the collar and I pause.
“She needs a name,” I say.
“Any ideas?”
I think for a moment. “How about Lucky?”
He stares at me. “That seems like a pretty ironic choice for a dog that just lost a leg.”
“But it’s perfect, don’t you see? Because we found her. I happened to see her, and then you came along and got her to safety. So she’s very lucky.”
Those dark green eyes roam over my face. “You’re a glass-half-full kind of person, aren’t you?”
“Always have been, I’m sorry to report.”
“Sorry? Why?”
“Just the way you said it. Makes me think you’re a glass-half-empty kind of guy.”
“Historically speaking. So I guess we cancel each other out.”
My lips quirk. “Or as I might put it, we balance each other.”
The corner of his mouth lifts just a tiny bit, and I’m unreasonably pleased that I’ve almost managed to make him smile.
Once we have all the supplies, we head back the way we came. He’s parked right in front of my boutique, the rugged black truck clean except for the mud on the tires. After puttingthe bags away, he leans against the truck and looks at me, arms crossed over that broad chest, one boot hooked over the other. Clearly thinking. Assessing.
I resist the urge to fidget under that gaze.
Still waters run deep with this man, I suspect. Those deep green eyes take everything in and give nothing away, and I’m starting to understand why the internet has so little on him. He’s not withholding, exactly. He’s just... reserved. Contained. Like there’s a great deal happening under the surface that he sees no reason to share.
I want him to share it with me, though.
We just bought dog food together, I remind myself. That’s what’s happening here. It’s not romantic. I mean, it is to me, but I’m an animal lover. This man saved a life, paid a vet bill that had nothing to do with him, and is now about to take a recovering three-legged dog into his home and figure out how to share her with me.
That’s my definition of romance.
“Can I ask you something?” he says, tugging a little at the brim of his Stetson.
Is this it? The moment he asks me out? My heart does something like a pirouette. “Of course.”
“Are you taking on new clients?”
The pirouette stops. I blink at him. Recalibrate as I put on my metaphorical businesswoman hat. “We are. Do you know someone who’s looking?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Me.”
Chapter 5
When in Rome
LILA
Sure enough, Sarah does interrogate me as soon as I get back to the boutique. What is Slade really like, was he flirting with you, and so on.
