Page 16 of Rookie's Redemption
"Ryder, no—"
But it's too late.
He's already yanking the front panel off, his forearms flexing as he pokes around inside. I try not to stare at the way his shirt rides up, revealing a strip of tanned abs that make my mouth go dry.
I try not to stare at the way his muscles ripple beneath his shirt.Dear God. The thin fabric clings to his broad shoulders and tapers down to narrow hips that I remember all too well.
My fingers itch to trace the defined ridges of his abs peeking out, memories of exploring that tanned skin making my cheeks flush hot.
Focus, Mia. Focus on literally anything else.
"See, this wire here is—"
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
The smoke detector screams to life, piercing through the room and echoing off every surface. Every animal in the building losestheir collective minds. Dogs howl, cats yowl, and somewhere in the distance, our goat friend bleats in what I can only assume is either terror or approval.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?" I shout over the noise.
"I HAVE NO IDEA!" he shouts back, frantically waving his hands at the detector like that might help.
I grab a towel and start fanning the device until it finally shuts up, leaving us in relative quiet broken only by the continued animal protests.
"Maybe," I say carefully, "you should stick to hockey."
His cheeks are pink with embarrassment, which is ridiculously endearing and makes me want to do stupid things like forgive him for being a total walking disaster.
"In my defense," he says, "that thing was already broken."
"It was working fine until you—"
Another crash from the back room cuts me off. We both freeze and stare at each other without moving.
"Please tell me that wasn't—"
"THE GOAT!" we say in unison.
I close my eyes and count to ten. Then move towards the back of the shelter.
"You know what?" I grab a leash from the hook by the door. "I'll take the goat outside and you get Buster bathed before he adds to the chaos. You can help with that. How much damage can you possibly do with soap and water?"
Ten minutes later, I have my answer: a lot.
A shocking, impressive amount of damage.
Ryder looks like he went swimming fully clothed. His shirt clings to every ridge of muscle across his chest and abs, and water drips from his hair onto shoulders that should be classified as weapons of mass distraction.
And Buster, a golden retriever mix with trust issues and a fear of water, is somehow the driest one in the room.
"Well," he says, wringing water from his sleeve, "that went well."
"You're supposed to keep the dog in the tub, not redecorate the entire room with bath water."
"He's stronger than he looks."
"He's twelve pounds."
"Twelve very determined pounds."
