Page 69 of Fool Me

My teeth clench but I force my muscles to relax because I can’t fix this for her and she isn’t asking me to. Ruining our night over some jerk that doesn’t deserve anymore of her time is the opposite of what we should be doing.

After we clear the plates together, Harlowe helps me feed Muley, watching in disbelief as the donkey gives me the attitude that’s always so elusive with Echo and her. Once we’re finished with the chores, we cross the yard, side by side. “She really doesn’t like you. What do you think that’s about?”

“Hard to say, but if I had to guess, she associates the upheaval in her life to me. Ray fostered her after a wildfire took the barn on the farm she lived in a few years ago. In the aftermath, the owners decided to downsize to a more manageable property. They weren’t able to take her, so she stayed with Ray. He’d never intended to keep her with his retirement approaching, but when her owners said they couldn’t take her, he felt guilty re-homing her so soon after the trauma of the wildfire.”

“Then you moved in and her life changed again.”

“More or less.” And now I feel guilty because her attitude is a product of her circumstances and she deserves better . . . all of us do.

“I think I liked it better when I thought I was just her favorite.” Her smile fades and I’d do anything to put it back on her face.

“Let’s roll with that theory. I like it better, too.”

“Maybe you just need to get her a friend.”

A rumble of laughter bursts free from my chest. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

“Come on, a vet with a veritable petting zoo in his backyard? That would win the town over in a heartbeat.”

“I think I like our plan better. There’s less chance for animal-inflicted humiliation.”

When we step through the back from the patio into the kitchen, she asks, “What are we watching tonight?”

“The most mindless thing we can find.” I lead her through the kitchen to the living room and pull her down next to me on the couch.

She tucks her feet under her and we flip through some options before settling on an old comedy. Very slapstick, very mindless, and something we’ve both seen. It’s perfect after the long day she’s had.

It turns out to be the right pick because before the opening scene is over she’s laughing so hard she collapses into me and I throw my arm around her, holding her there—something that doesn’t feel awkward or forced. Harlowe curls up against me, her hand finding that spot on my stomach it always gravities to. Her body curving against mine like it’s my other half.

I don’t think she’s aware of the small circles she’s making with her fingers right above my waistband, and she’s too caught up in the movie to notice my reaction. Thank fuck I’m wearing jeans instead of basketball shorts, because the situation unfolding below my belt would be painfully obvious and I don’t want to be one more guy in her life who treats her like she’s only good for what she can give them physically.

Her finger brushes my belt and a soft “oh” comes from next to me. “Sorry. I didn’t even . . .”

She pulls her hand back and I trap it in mine. I must be a masochist, because I hook it around me so we are wrapped in a hug of sorts. “You can touch me any time you want.”

Tilting her chin up, she searches my face for more, but I relax into the couch and watch the movie. She takes her cues from me, doing the same before her hand has wandered again and she’s moving it lightly over my pec. My chest rumbles with appreciation.

“Damn it, I can’t seem to keep my hands to myself,” she chastises.

The light from the TV illuminates the pink on her cheeks.

“It’s probably my fault. You can’t stop thinking about my sexy photo shoots.”

My comment does its job, and she playfully smacks my chest. “You’re supposed to be the nice one.”

“Am I? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

She turns toward me with playful fire lighting her blue eyes. “Is that so? Pretend all you want; I know you’ve got a heart of gold.”

“Maybe, but don’t put me in a box I don’t want to be in.” Truthfully, I’m tired of being good and having her hands on me all night has me strung tight. “I hear you teasing me, calling meDocandGood Boy,but there’s so much more to me than that and the things I want right now are anything but wholesome.”

“Like what?”

It’s the lilt of flirtation in her voice that has me flipping our positions, putting her under me in one quick move.

Fuck pretending. Fuck fake. Fuck being good.

I pin her to the couch beneath me and her eyes widen. Then a second later, she melts into the couch. I’m momentarily distracted when she bites down on her lip and it takes me a solidfifteen seconds to remember how to speak. “All kinds of things. Things that would make you cry out for relief. Things that would make you blush. Things that would make you soar. None of those things are good.”

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