AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“This is too dramatic for me,” I whispered. With a sigh, I lifted my head and slid my hands over the marred surface of the solid wood of the desk.
With all the boxes gone, it was just me and the desk in the large, empty office. I wasn’t taking it because the shop would still get used, just not by me. Cameron and I decided it needed to stay right where it was, in the place it had been since Dad built it so many years ago.
I ran my hands over it, thinking about everyone who’d worked here and how much of our family’s history was embedded in this shop, office, and desk. My dad worked inthis exact spot when he started Wilder Homes. There were scrapes on the surface. Nicks and dings from the rough treatment us kids had given it when we were younger.
I found pencil marks in the middle where I used to do my homework, and if I looked closely enough, I could make out letters and numbers. My eyes fell shut, only the slightest burn of tears pressing at the backs of my eyelids.
Memories of Dad sneaking his calculator out to help me with math, winking when Mom asked us if we got it figured out. I fought a hard swallow, emotion clogging my throat.
I hadn’t seen him sit at that desk for years, but the image was so clear in my head when I conjured it. All of this was his first, and we were just trying to steward it successfully and turn it into something that would last. That would make him proud.
Time passed, no matter what we did or how it refused to conform to our expectations.
My dad thought he’d be alive to watch us all start families and watch his grandkids grow. And he hadn’t.
But the heartbreak for all of us didn’t stop the days from turning into weeks, months, and years. I couldn’t let this stop me either, to wedge me into place in my own life.
I wasnotgoing to let this thing with Jax make me feel stagnant.
This part of my story was a whole new list to process, and I didn’t even need to write it down.
Pros:
I had experienced the kind of sex reserved for really well-written romance books.
A full week had passed, and I still had no regrets, because as previously established, regrets were bullshit.
Cons:
I had experienced the kind of sex reserved for really well-written romance books, and now he could hardly look at me.
I sighed, my chest feeling a little heavy. Expectations werea bitch, weren’t they? Jax had always been so very, very clear about what he wanted and didn’t want. There was no blurry communication, no words that could be misconstrued. And I’d been clear in return.
I could do one night, I told him. And this was the fallout of that promise. A stilted moment that made me wonder if I’d dreamed the entire thing.
No dreaming. No fantasizing. This was the real world, and I was perfectly capable of moving on if he was. So I fixed my ponytail, pulled a compact out of my purse, and checked my reflection before I went to get Larry, the testicle-free cat.
And honestly, I was glad I did because when Dean Michaelson—the new vet, the one I’d heard about seventeen times—walked into the exam room to talk to me about Larry’s post-surgical care, I about fell off my fucking chair.
Mark down a point for Sheila Wilder because holy bananas, he might have been one of the most beautiful men I’d ever seen.
Ever.
He was tall, easily a couple of inches taller than my brothers, with a wiry, muscular build that had all those really sexy veins roping over his forearms. His hair was a dark gold color, cropped tight to his very nicely shaped head, and the man had a jaw crafted by the gods.
And when he smiled at me—all those straight, blindingly white teeth—I actually went a little speechless.
“You must be Poppy,” he said. His bright blue eyes traced over my face, that smile deepening until a dimple popped out. Adimple. When he shook my hand, I managed a swallow and a stammering sort of hello. “Your mom has told me all about you.”
“H-has she?” I asked. “Hopefully all good things.”
He laughed, the sound rich and deep, and I felt the beginnings of a tingle in my belly. “Excellent things,” he murmured.
I eyed him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Don’t the vet techs usually handle these appointments?”
His answering grin was completely unrepentant. “Yes.”
Dean was easy to talk to. He was kind and sweet with the cat as he explained exactly what we should watch for over the next week. He was funny, his eyes gleaming as he handed me his card with his cell phone added in black ink on the bottom right underneath his name. My cheeks felt warm when he pointed it out.
