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“I could look at them all day,” I mused aloud as he held himself perfectly still not six inches in front of me.
My eyes took a tour of his face, his high cut cheekbones, the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes, the grooves of his forehead, his firm perfectly formed lips framed by that scruffy beard. He was older than me, I vaguely noted.
Suddenly his lips parted in a wide, white grin and my eyes flew back up to his now smiling ones.
“Are you done?”
I took two steps back and slapped my hands to the sides of my face. “Oh, my Lord, I’m so sorry! You have beautiful eyes, I said that already,” I exclaimed, “and the most interesting face! I’m sorry, I’m so rude!” I laughed, half embarrassed, half apologetic.
“It’s okay,” he rumbled, “gave me the opportunity to do the same.”
His words brought a spasm to a place I hadn’t felt in a long time. My eyes flew back to his and I took another step back. He had yet to move in all the time I’d stood staring into his face, or any of the moments since.
There was a stillness about him, a sense of peace, of patience. He made me entertain ideas I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. I retreated another step. His thick straight eyebrows lowered over those amazing eyes, and he finally moved, just his hand, palm up, towards me.
I looked at it, felt the pull to put mine in it, and resisted.
“What do you want?” I asked softly.
He paused, then cocked his head to the side. “Your cell phone.”
“Why?”
He smiled only with his eyes. “So, I can put my number in it for you to call me to take me out for dinner.”
“Oh.” I laughed, relieved. “Hang on.”
I retrieved my cell from my bag and put it into his big palm, being careful not to touch him.
I should not have been surprised that he could manage the tiny buttons with his big fingers. He was a surgeon. His touch had to be precise, gentle.
He keyed in his number and then called himself. He handed my phone back to me. There was no brushing of fingers. He pulled his own cell from his pocket, pushed a few buttons, and put it back.
“Now I have yours as well.” He studied me, unsmiling. “I look forward to seeing you again.”
“Thank you.”
What? Why did I say thank you? My confusion must have shown on my face because he was chuckling as he headed towards my door. He glanced at me one last time as he left, a slight half smile on his perfect lips.
Chapter 2
Skittish
Willa
The craft fair went well on the weekend. In fact, I was doing so well, so far, that the dream of transitioning to art full time, and putting in more hours at the shelter, was looking like an actual possibility in the next five years. Especially if Junie and I could build the business up enough to sell it for a nice little nest egg.
I stood and stretched.
Thursdays were my favorite days at the shelter. I usually completed most of my administrative tasks like confirming volunteers, scheduling, and conducting phone interviews on Tuesdays, leaving Thursdays open to planning, sifting through volunteer applications, and playing with kittens.
In truth I was probably more of a dog person than a cat person, but I liked being in my office, where I controlled my environment. The cats were easier than the dogs to contain in the office, so it was to the cats I turned for company while I worked. They were independent like me, loathe to let anyone take over or steer their ship. They needed their space, craved peace and could look after themselves mostly.
I could relate.
My thoughts drifted to Barrett and the picture of him driving that I held in my head. There was no reason for this other than that’s just where my thoughts hung out these days. I wanted to see the rest of the tattoos that peaked out from his shirtsleeves. He had the most incredible eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. An involuntary shudder of desire rippled through me, and I forcibly reminded myself why that could never happen. I pulled my thoughts away from him, yet again.
I sketched out a few more ideas for a new marketing campaign I’d been working on for the shelter when I heard a knock at my door. I looked up quickly taking stock of where the cats were to see if it was safe to open the door.
