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“It’s a date.” He steps back, smirking down at me as I blink away the sudden onslaught of lust. “Get back to work, Ms. Pierce.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I grumble, fighting off a smile and a blush.
Cole gifts me with a dry chuckle, sauntering toward the door and scooping up his notebook as he departs.
As I try not to ogle his backside, I’m hit with a sudden wave of panic.
Tomorrow, I’m going to Cole’s workplace. I’ll see him surrounded by adorable animals.
What if I see him holding a kitten?
Does he know what he’s doing?
Does he know how easily I’m falling for him?
SUMMER
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
I stare at Cole, wondering if this is some sort of joke, trying to make me look ridiculous.
Will he take out his phone and video me while I do this?
And I immediately feel guilty for thinking the worst of him again.
“Okay, even if you are serious, I don’t see how this helps.”
Cole leans back against a door, looking sexy as hell in a worn pair of jeans and a bright blue T-shirt with the name of the animal rescue across the chest. His work uniform. When I agreed to come to the animal shelter, I thought I’d be volunteering. Walking dogs, cuddling cats, handing carrot sticks to rabbits, or whatever.
Cole has different plans.
“You said you needed more stress. Trust me. This is the most unruly crowd you could imagine.”
Even through the thick walls, I can hear barking.
“I don’t think animals are allowed into the conference unless they’re service dogs,” I point out.
He shrugs. “Yeah. It’s not the same. But it’s more intense than talking to me.”
True. Damn, I’m going to look so silly. But I guess that’s another part of my anxiety I need to learn to deal with.
“Okay. I’ll do it. But afterwards there better be kittens.” Cole just gives me his sneaky smile and holds the door open. The sound is deafening. Before we went into the room, there was only an occasional bark. But now that the dogs can see us, they get vocal. We’re in a large room with lines of kennels. There are so many furry, excited bodies wriggling and jumping around howling that it’s hard to concentrate enough to even try to count them all.
Which I guess is kind of the point of our visit.
“Start whenever you’re ready!” Cole calls out to me over the racket. He backs up, giving me the floor. Or at least the space near the door that’s as close to a stage as this room provides.
As I clear my throat, I try not to get mesmerized by how Cole drops his hand behind him, letting a whining mutt sniff his knuckles through the metal links of the kennel. The pup’s tail wags so fast I’m concerned it might fling right off.
Do I look equally as smitten when I’m near the man?
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter to myself below the chorus of woofs. Then I do my best to project my voice over the racket. As I touch on all the important parts of my presentation, the barking batters against my brain and wears at my nerves. Still, I imagine that what I’m saying might somehow calm the animals. That maybe they’ll find hearing my voice soothing and settle down to listen.
They don’t. And by the time I’ve made it to the end of my talk, my skin feels sensitive, and I have the urge to sprint out the door and run off this anxious energy.
I guess I know how the dogs feel.
