Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Jackson’s dark eyes twinkle. “Are you going to water his eggplant with your tongue?”
“No.”
“Any reason you’re not? Aside from the fact he has company, that is.”
“I work with him,” I say, insistent. “And he lives in the building. That would be doubly messy.”
“Other things would be too.”
I groan. “Stop.”
But also, I don’t choose well. What if I dated Hayes and he turned around and slept with my new boss? What if he subtly put me down and I barely realized it was happening? What if he dismissed my dreams? “Honestly, just not ready,” I say, which is the truth too.
Jackson nods thoughtfully, giving up his playful pushing. “I hear you, hun.”
“I mean, it’s not even that I’m covering Xander’s stupid wedding. It’s just…I can’t imagine anything going well with anyone right now. I’m not sure I know how to pick a good man.” My heart’s too tender, and my ego’s too bruised.
“I get it,” Jackson says gently, then rubs my arm with affection. When he lets go, his brown eyes twinkle again. “But you don’t have to get your heart involved, if you know what I mean.”
I slug his arm. “You enabler.”
“Just think of me as your libido’s wingman.”
“I think of you as the devil.”
“Same thing,” he says, while Roxy yawns loudly from the floor, interjecting herself into the convo. Jackson waves at the little lady. “See? Your dog agrees with me. She thinks you should get some.”
“No, she does not. She’s coming along to protect my virtue,” I insist, like she’s proof of my innocent intentions.
Jackson tuts. “Your five-pound senior dog’s not the cockblocker you think she is.”
Fine.
Maybe I am using Roxy as a shield. If I have the dog to focus on, I won’t be able to throw myself at Hayes.
Or Stefan.
But mostly Hayes, right? I’m mostly attracted to him. Which means I’ll need to resist his charms more when I head upstairs. I’ll activate a Hayes shield.
Jackson and I take off. He heads downstairs and my dog and I go up to the penthouse level. My stomach flips as the elevator rises, and I tell myself it’s from the change in altitude.
It’s not from the anticipation of the company.
A minute later, I head down the hall and rap on the door. “Garden patrol, at your service,” I call out.
See? I can be friends with Hayes. And Stefan too. In fact, it’s just good sense. I work with both of them. I should be friendly with them too.
When the door opens, Hayes is there, sporting a cocky grin and those damn gym shorts again—the ones I’ve seen him take off. They’re blue and hang low on his hips, reminding me how easy they’d be to just. Push. Down. A gray T-shirt snuggles his pecs, his biceps, and his abs, and it’s the luckiest piece of fabric ever. His smile is pure sex. He looks at me like he’s undressing me. His stubble is a little thicker now too. Almost scruff levels.
Yes, he’s the one I’m most attracted to. That makes sense. We’re well past the are we into each other phase—we crossed that somewhere between here’s my eggplant o’clock and check out my shower towel.
We’ve acknowledged, too, that we’re sticking to being neighborly. Stefan? He’s just a handsome guy I’ve known casually for years. He’ll be easier to resist.
When my gaze travels to him, he’s in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter, hair mussed up, lips quirked in a grin. He’s got a smattering of stubble, and his jawline is chiseled but imperfect thanks to a scar on his chin. A perfect imperfection I’d like to touch.
But there’s no shirt in sight.
The man can wear the hell out of a Henley, and, I’m learning, out of nothing. His muscles glisten. A smattering of golden-brown chest hair covers his broad pecs. He doesn’t have any tattoos, but there are scratches on his shoulders and a few bruises on his arms. His abs are out of this world. Long, carved, tight.
His running shorts hug his hips, and I try to look away. I swear I do. But it’s one thing to think a guy with a fiancée is handsome. It’s entirely another to find a single man thoroughly fuckable.
But I can’t think that. Nope. I can’t. And I won’t.
Best to deny this lust blooming inside me. “Hi. I’m here to help,” I say.
Roxy’s bushy tail goes wild, faster than a metronome set to its highest tempo.
Hayes kneels in front of my cinnamon pup with her whitening muzzle. “Hey, girl,” he says and offers her a hand for sniffing. My mutt rubs her face against his palm, then the shameless hussy stretches her paws up onto his chest.
Not satisfied saying hi to one, she scampers to Stefan next, looking up at him, and barks her hello bark. Her look at me bark.