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There he is, in his element, surrounded by the chattering troop of monkeys. He's all concentration and gentle hands, a silent whisperer in khaki.

The way he understands them, responds to their needs—it's like watching poetry in motion. A little shiver skitters down my spine because damn, it's not just the connection that gets me.

It's him.

Bradley.

With those deep blue eyes that seem to see right through the facade everyone else buys.

And then there's that body—tall, muscled, sculpted arms that flex so deliciously as he refills water basins and adjusts perches. A bead of sweat trickles down from his hairline, over that rugged jaw with its perpetual shadow, and I have to bite my lip to keep in a sigh.

Hot doesn't even begin to cover it. He's like a walking, talking fantasy, and every time I sneak a peek, my crush on him throbs a little harder, a little more insistent.

But when he looks up, catching me mid-ogle, his expression is unreadable—dark, broody, intense. It’s enough to slam the brakes on any wayward thoughts I might entertain about ruffling that always-tousled dark hair.

I snap my gaze away, cheeks burning, but I can still feel his eyes on me.

God, Sabrina, get it together. He's probably not interested in a girl who spends her days handing out maps and explaining why you can’t feed the flamingos.

Besides, what would I even say? ‘Hey Bradley, love how you handle those primates, want to monkey around?’

Ugh, nope.

My inner voice has no chill.

So I do what I always do. I smile, wave if he's looking, and bury the fluttering in my chest under a mountain of 'what ifs'.

Because that's safer, right? Safer than risking the words that might tumble out if I ever found the courage to actually talk to him—the words that could either soar or crash and burn.

"Back to work," I mutter to myself, though every fiber of my being wants to stay glued to this spot, to Bradley and his gentle giant ways.

But tickets won't sell themselves, and dreams of taming the brooding zookeeper will just have to wait.

Besides, I’m just supposed to be working here for the summer to get some experience.

I should be focused on my studies.

Not fangirling over the zookeeper like some horny coed.

CHAPTER

THREE

Bradley

I'm leaning on the fence, hidden behind the shadow of the oak tree, watching her again.

Sabrina, in her khaki shorts and zoo polo, her hair tied back in that braid that swings when she laughs. I've got a prime spot for this daily ritual—and it is mine—to watch her charm visitors and handle tickets with those delicate fingers.

I've scrolled through her social profile during my breaks. "Future vet" proudly declared in her bio.

Smart cookie, Sabrina. She studies at the local college, works here for the summer, her smile a bright beacon among the mundane ticket booths.

It's not just her looks, though. It's that passion for animals that gets me. We're kindred spirits, whether she knows it or not.

I catch myself imagining how those fingers might feel entwined with mine, how her laughter would sound in the quiet of my house. I can almost see her sitting at my kitchen table, chatting about her day as I cook us dinner—something simple yet satisfying.

The fantasy is a warm flicker in the monotony of my daily tasks.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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