Page 65 of Feeling the Heat: Part One
I release something between a sigh and a shuddering laugh. “Damn, your hugs are better than any anxiety meds I’ve tried.”
He chuckles. “They’re yours whenever you need them. In fact, as your doctor, I insist you get them regularly.”
I giggle and force myself to step back out of the hug, even though my omega protests losing his touch. “Thank you for professional concern,” I tease, loving the way he grins back at me.
“Of course,” Ambrose says with a nod.
A beeping noise cuts through the moment, and Ambrose grimaces. “Crap, I need to go take that out of the oven. Jackson will kill me if I let it burn.”
He grabs the wine again, taking my hand and leading me down a hall lined with a number of beautiful abstract paintings, passing by a staircase and a small sitting room, to bring us into a bright, spacious kitchen.
He sets the wine down on the gleaming white marble island and drops my hand to scramble over to the oven.
“I thought you said Jackson was cooking dinner.”
“He is!” Ambrose replies, wincing as he goes to reach in to the oven before realizing he didn’t put on an oven mitt. He gives me a sheepish laugh as he grabs the silicone mitt from adrawer and slips it on. “He went for a walk with Dahlia to help get out some of their nervous energy before you came.”
“Dahlia?” My brow furrows at the unfamiliar name.
I thought he said that their third packmate was a man. My omega bristles at the potential of being misled, but she doesn’t have long to stew in that because a moment later there’s a crashing sound from the direction of the front door.
“Wait! Dolly, hold on!” Jackson’s aggravated voice rings out from down the hall.
Oh god, is this Dahlia woman mad? Did she get one whiff of my scent in her home and decide she didn’t want me encroaching on her territory?
I shoot Ambrose an alarmed look, but he’s oblivious, calmly setting a dish of the most delicious looking mac and cheese I’ve ever seen on the stove.
My panic morphs to delight as a shrill bark echoes down the hallway andDahliacomes bounding into the kitchen.
“Oh my god!” I gasp as I take in the sight of the mini dachshund charging toward me, wheels strapped to her hindquarters and a bright pink leash trailing behind her.
Ambrose registers my reaction and slams the oven shut. “Shit, I thought you were okay with dogs,” he says, sounding panicked as he moves to try to intercept her before she reaches me.
“Dahlia! Stay!” Jackson shouts as he enters the kitchen, but Dahlia rushes my way with more ferocious barks.
The squat black and tan dog doesn’t listen, and while I know I should probably be worried about a dog acting like she wants to rip my throat out, I can’t because my heart is currently exploding with joy and delight.
She’ssocute.
Jackson dashes forward to grab at her leash, a horrified look twisting his face when he doesn’t manageto snag it. “Dolly, you little hell on wheels,stop!” he yells at her in a last-ditch effort to halt her warpath toward me.
She looks over her shoulder at him and barks, like she’s telling him he should be proud that she’s such a good protector, then turns back to me.
Displaying a total lack of self-preservation, I crouch down to greet her. The dog comes to an abrupt stop, just shy of crashing into me, and her barks cease as she catches my scent and goes into a sniffing frenzy. I hold my hand out, palm up, to let her check me out, and Dahlia gives me a testing lick. I must pass the taste test because she presses closer, nudging her head under my hand, and looking up at me with the sweetest eyes.
“Camille, I’m so sorry!” Jackson crouches beside us to save me from his “vicious” dog.
“It’s fine!” I lift my gaze to give him a reassuring smile and my breath stutters as our eyes meet.
Talk about forgetting how hot someone is. I thought maybe the haze of my heat had exaggerated Jackson’s good looks in my memory, but no. He’s even more attractive than I remember.
Dahlia nudges into me again, letting out a displeased huff that I stopped paying attention to her. I giggle and scratch behind her floppy ears. “It’s very nice to meet you, Dahlia.”
She cocks her head at my voice and her tail swishes back and forth, smacking against the sides of her wheelchair.
“Someone’s lucky that she’s cute, because that was very rude, Dolly,” Jackson grumbles as he reaches out to unhook her leash. He gives me a lopsided grin as his face moves closer to mine. He pauses there, close enough for me to feel his breath when he speaks. “Hey Cami,” he murmurs, his voice taking on a deeper, more molten tone that makes my nipples harden.
“H-hey,” I say breathlessly as he shifts back to undo theclasps on Dolly’s wheels. The dextrous, practiced movements of his fingers are far sexier than they have any right to be.
