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I stare at him, surprised. “A connection?”
“I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but...both of us know what we want and fight like hell to get it.”
He leans in, and I inhale his scent of cedarwood and orange blossom.
And here we are again. In another one of those moments where I could lean in and never stop. Especially after his amazing meal, and his offer to let Farmer and me stay in his house.
Before I know it, his lips are a whisper away from mine. “You surprise me, Rook.”
The rasp of his voice does something to me, and I feel myself losing the ability to stop myself from kissing him.
This undeniable jolt of electricity hums in the air between our bodies, impossible to ignore, despite every damn effort I make.
But by now, I know it’s more than the way he looks. It’s the way he makes me feel—like everything is going to be okay, no matter what’s happening. Being around him is like a drug.
It’s intoxicating, and I yearn for more. Always more.
I lick my lips. “You surprise me too.” My voice is feather soft.
When a paw scratches at both of our shins, I chuckle, saying, “I think Farmer wants more steak.”
“Last one, big guy,” Maddox says through a sigh. “Then it’s time for a bath.”
“He definitely needs a bath.”
After we finish dinner and clean up our plates, Maddox shows me to my guest room, which is amazing. I have my own king bed, private balcony, and primary bathroom, but I can’t help but wonder what Maddox’s looks like.
Then together, we give Farmer a bath, and it takes both of us. The dog is desperate to jump out of the sink, so one of us holds him while the other scrubs. When Farmer shakes and we’re both covered in suds, all we can do is laugh.
I offer to take the dog for the night, because I was the one who brought him home, and it wouldn’t be fair for Maddox to stay up all night.
So Farmer and I stay in the guest bedroom, and we leave Maddox in his own room.
Two hours into sleep, Farmer’s whining wakes me up. I’m a little nervous because he’s throwing up. I know it could’ve been from the steak, but that seems odd because this was a street dog who would probably be used to food like that, so it could be the antibiotic.
Worried and unsure of what to do next, I creep from my bedroom over to Maddox’s, hopeful he won’t mind if I wake him. He’d told me if I needed anything to let him know, so I knock softly, but he doesn’t answer. I knock a little bit harder, but he still doesn’t hear me, and I wonder if his bedroom is so big that maybe his bed is in a different area because he has a sitting room.
After knocking and waiting for what feels like forever, I go to crack the door open. But when I turn the handle, it’s locked.
Okay, did he think I was going to come and jump him in the middle of the night? And if so, wouldn’t that be a good thing?
Confused and a little weirded out, I creep back to my own room and decide to send Maddox a text instead.
A few minutes after it’s sent, I hear a knock on my door.
Maddox steps inside, and I fight the urge to ask him why his door was locked. But I don’t. Instead, I tell him what’s going on with the dog, and we call the twenty-four-hour vet emergency line to make sure we’re not supposed to do something more.
The on-call vet tells us to monitor him, and if he keeps throwing up, to bring him in.
So, we go back to bed. In our own rooms, of course.
11
The Walk
It’s bright and early Sunday morning at Maddox’s house, and I’m thrilled Farmer had no more issues during the night. Now, I’m in the kitchen, and I’ve figured out how to use Maddox’s overly complicated and expensive coffee maker. After I pour myself some, I leave his cup with cinnamon there for when he wakes. I sit at the breakfast room table to enjoy the view while Farmer is lying beside me making his way through a doggie dental bone we got him at Pet IQ.
A few minutes later, Maddox comes into the kitchen, and he’s got a seriously bad case of bedhead, hair sticking up in all directions, a five o’clock shadow going on, and a pair of checkered pajama pants with a mismatched thermal top. By all measures, he looks grunge.
