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“Oof,” I grunt in surprise as Nova launches herself off the stool and into my arms, somehow having secured the rod—okay, notsomehow. As I was staring at her ass, she hung the curtains, and now—
“Let’s break in the console,” she says.
I have my woman in my arms, those curtains framing my window, and a table I don’t understand the point of.
And I can’t help but think that life is pretty fucking perfect.
Especially, when she shoves her hands between us and flicks open the button on my jeans.
Perfect…
So long as I don’t do anything to fuck it up.
Forty-Five
Nova
A week later,Steve and I are waltzing into Jeremy Blevins, DVM’s clinic.
It’s a bright and cheerful place, full of pictures of animals and an office kitty sitting on a bed behind the reception desk.
I’ve successfully driven—without ending up in any snowbanks—from Lake’s house down into town.
Go me.
“Woof!” Steve barks, tail uncurling and hanging low like it does any time he’s scared—and vet offices might be number one on that very short list. But we need to get his leg X-rayed so the splint can—hopefully—come off.
“Hello, welcome in,” the receptionist says. “Who do we have here?”
I make introductions, do my check-in, and sit down for a bit before we’re called back and follow the tech to a room. Jer is coming in just as we walk through the door. “Nova,” he says, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Lake treating you well?”
I think back over the last couple of weeks.
Movies in bed together. FaceTime calls when he’s on the road. Delicious food in my belly when he’s home. A pair of butterfly-printed fuzzy socks left on my nightstand. Another skating session that didn’t end with me taking him out, or having an orgasm in the snow—
Though, it did end up with mehavingan orgasm, this one just inside the front door.
My cheeks heat.
But my belly is full of butterflies.
Because hehasbeen treating me well, so well that I’m…
Falling for him.
Those butterflies move faster, fluttering around like they do every time I think of Lake.
It almost takes my breath away because it feels so good.
“Yes,” I say softly. “He’s treating me well.”
Jer studies my face, nods, and I think I see approval in his eyes as he reaches forward and squeezes my arm. “I’m glad, sweetheart.” A gentle sentiment before he gets down to business with my pooch. “Steve”—he makes a pit stop at the jar of treats—“it’s good to see you!”
He extends his hand toward my pup, revealing a handful of treats sitting in his palm.
Clearly, the man knows the way to Steve’s heart.
Who gets over his shyness and starts creeping forward. A sniff. A lick. And then the treats disappear.
