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“She’s indeed an ex-girlfriend,” he says with a grin. “And I think you are more than enough for me to handle, so no… I’m not seeing anyone else.”
“I’m really sorry I lied about it. I’m not like that. I just… didn’t want to get my hopes up and then get hurt.”
“I understand that,” he assures me gently. “But I think you know I’m a straight shooter.”
My loud exhale of relief, coupled with a nod, makes Kellen chuckle. I smile sheepishly but boldly lean toward him. “You may kiss me now.”
Once again, my eyes drop to his mouth and I wait expectantly for him to close the distance. But nothing happens, and I look upward with a frown.
His eyes twinkle, lips curved slyly. “I think I’ll wait.” He pushes up off the ground, and I blink, stunned silent at another abrupt trajectory change. Kellen reaches down, takes my hands, and hauls me from the ground.
Bringing one hand to his mouth, he brushes his lips over my knuckles. “Next Friday… dinner. And what will be an amazing kiss after.”
“After,” I mumble, my head whirling.
Kellen winks at me. “Possibly more than one kiss.”
“Okay,” I say, because clearly he’s in charge. He’s making the rules. He’s orchestrating this. I think he enjoys keeping me a little off-balance, and weirdly… I like it too.
Kellen’s hands come to my shoulders, and he turns me a hundred and eighty degrees until I’m facing the clinic. He gives me a tiny push. “Get back to work. I’ll clean all this up.”
I glance over my shoulder as I walk away. He’s squatting, stuffing our lunch trash in the bag. Then he carefully folds the horse blanket.
Neck twisting, he catches me gawking and smiles. “Watch where you’re going.”
I turn around and catch myself from walking into the open arena gate. I hastily veer around it, face flaming. I don’t look back at him, but I can feel the press of his stare on my backside.
Which gives me a bit of satisfaction as I know I look damn good in my riding jods.
Once inside the clinic, I hastily change into my scrubs and affix my name tag. A quick peek through the swinging door, and I see that the new patient is here. Through the glass door that leads to the parking lot, I see Kellen’s car pulling away.
“I need about five minutes,” I say to Christy as she looks over at me.
“No worries. They’re still filling out the initial paperwork.” Today’s appointment is a puppy here to get his first round of vaccinations and do a general wellness check.
“Thanks, Christy.”
Back at the countertop desk where my laptop resides, I pick up my cell phone and call my twin sister, Kat. “What’s up, Thing One?” she says when she answers.
Thing One—that’s me since I’m the oldest by almost nineteen minutes—and Thing Two, which is Kat. Said names were gifted to us by our eldest brother, Ethan (eleven years older than we are), who was often tasked with oversight of his young, rambunctious sisters.
We freaking earned those nicknames.
“I almost just kissed a guy I met a few days ago.” I can’t help the gush of words that comes out. “I met him when he brought in his sick dog—who’s fine, by the way—then he offered to foster a golden I got from the Hell Hole, then he saw me get arrested outside of Pet World and bailed me out. We did lunch, planned a date into the future, then he showed up today—with sandwiches—while I was riding Lunar. He almost kissed me after we ate. Can you believe it?”
“I don’t know what part of that story to even start with, but let’s start with the Hell Hole. Did you rescue one of the dogs?”
Kat is all too familiar with the Hell Hole, a.k.a. Levi Hellman’s puppy mill, as I don’t keep anything from my sister. She knows more than anyone how deep I am into this crusade to take him down. Because she’s Thing Two, and as much a rabble-rouser as I am, she’s always encouraged my bad behavior if that’s what is needed to get the job done.
“Well, rescue is a loose term. I mean, I did rescue a female golden, but not through proper legal channels.”
“You mean, you stole her,” she concludes.
“Yeah, and I would have gotten more except I heard someone coming. But I’m going back next weekend to stake things out.”
“You were careful?”
“Always,” I assure her.
She doesn’t chastise or condemn, simply moves on. “And the arrest?”
“A peaceful protest on the sidewalk outside Pet World. The manager called the police.”
“Douchebag,” she growls protectively. “And this guy bailed you out, huh? Does he know how crazy you are about this stuff?”
“Oh, he knows. His name is Kellen. Former Marine, works in a big security firm in Pittsburgh doing all kinds of dangerous missions and stuff. Naturally, he’s attracted to my brand of crazy.”
