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This draws her eyes up to mine, but a second later, she drops them again and the paper shuffling seems to quadruple.
"Claire," I snap, walking up to her and grabbing her hands to keep her from sifting through even more paperwork. My office was a mess to begin with but at least it didn't have paperwork all over the floor like it does now.
"It was like a fifty-dollar battery. It's not that big of a deal."
When her eyes go from frantic to narrowing at me, I know it was once again the wrong thing to say to her.
Her gaze dips down to my lips for the briefest of seconds, but she might as well have run her hand over the front of my jeans while purring all the filthy things I've imagined her doing to me in my ear because it derails whatever train of thought I imagined I could maintain around this woman.
Instead of letting her speak her mind, I tug her to my chest and press my mouth to hers. I have no doubt there will be consequences, but there's no way I can have her attention on me and not kiss her.
The kiss is utter perfection, three seconds of the best kiss of my life, but I realize very quickly that as wonderful as it is on my part, she isn't kissing me back. That makes me feel as creepy as it did meeting her eyes when she caught me in her backyard earlier.
Despite feeling the way I feel and realizing what I do, I'm the instant asshole that doubles down, trying to slip my tongue into her mouth rather than backing off like I can tell she wants me to.
She presses at my chest, and I break the contact immediately. I feel a little more than disappointed when she lifts her hand and wipes at her mouth with the back of it, glaring at me like I'm the biggest asshole she's ever met, and honestly, I just might be.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she growls, andI do my best not to smile. Seriously, the filthy words coming from her mouth might just possibly be my downfall.
"I was... I mean, I thought—"
"You thought what, Walker?" she snaps, but she continues speaking before I can formulate an answer that doesn't make me a douchebag. "That the solution to any problem a woman is having is solved with your mouth on them?"
I'm in no position to argue semantics with her so I don't tell her that she's the only woman I've imagined kissing for a very long time. I don't think it would be received in the way I'd like it to, so I do the smart thing and keep my mouth shut.
"Don't try that shit again," she hisses before shoving me out of the way and leaving the office.
I feel the softness of her lips on mine long after I hear the front door of the bar slam closed behind her.
Chapter 10
Claire
"Your momma will be back before you know it,"I tell Fifi, the most psycho Pomeranian I've ever met.
She answers me by trying to chew her way out of the metal cage.
"Feisty one," Kristina says.
"She's a hateful little thing," I tell her, pointing to the hole the dog bit in my uniform when she was dropped off fifteen minutes ago. "If only having them spayed actually changed their demeanor. That one could use an attitude adjustment."
"Good thing Corbin pays for the uniforms," Kristina mutters as she scratches the head of a beagle I've yet to meet.
"Exactly, " I agree, making a mental note to introduce myself to the dog before he leaves today.
Kristina has actual training as a vet nurse, whereas I'm sure I got this job because someone in town felt sorry for me. I help bathe the animals, trim nails, check patients in, and, more often than not, I get to be the lucky person petting their heads when they wake from anesthesia.
I've always loved animals, so it's no hardship to spend my days helping them. Dr. McBride is a passionate doctor who never refuses service to anyone even when they may not have the immediate funds to pay. He'll never let an animal suffer while haggling over prices, and I think that makes him an incredible human being.
I don't have animals, and there are no plans in the future to get one. At the same time, Larkin isn't at that age where she really remembers it a day later when she requests a furry companion. Right now, she's a hundred percent satisfied with her books, trolls, and the unlimited amount of toys the Kennedys buy for her, even when they insist on leaving them at their house as if they're afraid I'd try to sell them or something. Nora is the same with the clothes. If she sends Larkin home in the clothing she purchased, she fully expects those items washed and returned with the next visit. I don't have a problem returning the woman's things, but it's the expectation that I go home and do a load of laundry when I may not have enough dirty clothes with it to make a full load. The duplex that I live in has a small laundry room for tenants to share, but the washing machine has been leaving a stench in clothes for months. Larkin and I spend several hours every Sunday at Get The Funk Out of Here, the local laundromat. I'll be damned if I'm going to go and spend three dollars on one single outfit. It's also why I started sending Larkin with a full change of clothes in that cloth bag Nora seems to hate so much.
"Claire?"
I raise my eyebrows, unsure of how long I've been standing there forcing clients to watch me battle make-believe fights with Nora Kennedy.
"Sorry," I tell Madison when I see her looking at me. "What's wrong with Nanuk?"
I look down at the Husky who I can see doesn't feel well, even when his furry tail swishes back and forth some.
