Page 109 of One Wild Wish

I studied the woman’s eyes. An intense green next to her red hair. “Have to agree. Your eyes are beautiful.” And Ainsley was good at her job.

The redhead’s hardness melted away. She plucked Ainsley’s card from her hand. After scanning it, she then scanned me , a slow perusal from head to toe. “Thanks. Do you two work together?”

“She’s my assistant.” Couldn’t help myself.

Ainsley shot me a scowl. “He struggles with basic math. We’re working at a Habitat for Humanity build. I help him with his numbers.” I bit back a laugh, but she didn’t miss a beat. “My stunning ensemble”—she gestured to her clothing—“is purely functional, but personal shopping is my paying gig. If you’re interested, call me. All I need is ten minutes in your closet.”

My strangled laugh turned into a muffled groan. Ten minutes in a closet with Ainsley. Damn. Might have to hire her myself.

The redhead slipped Ainsley’s card into her purse. “Maybe.” Her next glance at me held more heat, her attention lingering on my lips.

There was no spark. No moment where my mind went fuzzy and limbs turned heavy and chest grew tight like with Ainsley. What did have my temperature rising, were the daggers Ainsley was staring at her. Like she was jealous. Like she was ready to claim me as her own.

A notion I could get behind.

Except she crossed her arms and refused to look my way. Women were confusing as all hell, but I was partly to blame. Her hot-and-cold routine was tough to read. No denying that. If I got too close, she’d lean or step away. If I placed my hand on her back or arm or elbow, she’d shrug me off. But I hadn’t asked her out to dinner, not even for drinks. After the Tessa fiasco, I wasn’t sure I trusted my instincts when it came to women. Getting closer also meant explaining my divorce and the fact that my ex believed I’d cheated on her.

Would Ainsley trust that I’d never betrayed my wife? Or would she assume the worst like my D.C. friends and cut our ties?

Maintaining our status quo seemed less daunting.

Lunches in hand, we retreated to our picnic table and struck our usual pose—side by side, sitting on the table top, our feet on the bench below. Our white ash tree shaded us. Ainsley was eating a cactus and chili taco, while I crammed the first of two falafel pitas into my mouth.

Manual labor was hungry work, and truth be told, I missed my heartier lunch. Hopefully Nana was making her famous meatloaf tonight. Between Emmett and me, we could polish off two loaf pans.

A few quiet minutes in, our ornery squirrel made his appearance, nattering incessantly. Ainsley growled at the little guy. “I’m not tossing you a crumb so you can turn your nose up to it.”

He screeched some more. The rodent really dug his meat, too. “We should call him Joe.”

She scoffed at me. “More like Ivan the Terrible.”

I tore off another bite and chewed. “Genghis Khan.”

“Attila.”

“Stalin.”

“Definitely Lucifer,” she said. “Or we could end the twerp. Put him and us out of our misery.” She licked some sauce from her wrist. A slow slide of her tongue over her pulse point.

My heart rate kicked up. “Where I come from we don't shoot vermin when they get ornery. We tame ’em.”

She cackled at my John Wayne impression. “Did the vegan food mess with your vocal chords?”

“John Wayne. It’s a line from the movie the truck’s named after, except horses not vermin. I took creative liberties.”

“Still have zero idea what you’re on about.”

I shoved the last bit of falafel into my mouth, remembering nights growing up as I swallowed. “Instead of cartoons or sitcoms, my nana would put on black-and-white films—Casablanca , It’s a Wonderful Life , Singin’ in the Rain . Old Westerns, too. Loved those and the musicals best. We’d even dance sometimes.”

“Is that so?” Her husky voice turned dreamy.

I bet spinning Ainsley around a dance floor would be heaven. “You dance?”

She crumpled her garbage and placed it next to mine. Avoiding my eyes, she plopped onto the far bench seat and lay down, blue eyes on the dancing leaves above. “I did ballet until high school. Loved it. I had to stop when it got too expensive, but it was everything to me.”

Taking her cue, I lay down on the opposite bench, boots wide on the grass below. I laced my fingers over my stomach. “What were you like in high school?” I rolled my head to face her.

She frowned at the passing clouds. “It’s the perfect temperature for hiking, don’t you think? Not too warm.”