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“You know,” he said slowly. “I do have one problem with what your mom told me about you.”
My eyebrows rose slowly. “What’s that?”
“She said you were pretty, but that’s just not an accurate statement.”
Honestly, this wasn’t even fair. Dean was just sitting there with apurringcatin his lap, one of his big hands petting down Larry’s arched spine, and I swear, I couldn’t find words. The symbolism of how he was handling that normally feral pussycat was about to make my brain explode.
“It’s not?”
Slowly, Dean shook his head. “She should have said you’re stunning. Far too beautiful to go out with someone like me, but I think I’m going to have to take a chance and ask anyway.”
The sound that came out of my mouth—part laugh, part shocked gust of air—was by far the most graceless articulation I’d ever made in my entire life, but Dean the vet thought it was hilarious, tipping his chin back and laughing, deep and rich and oh my word, how was every single woman in this town not dropping their panties at the sight of him?
They had to be.
Single men in Sisters were hard to come by.
Single, hot men were even more rare.
But single, hot, gainfully employed, good with animals,and even better with casual compliments men? Forget about it.
I didn’t need a pros and cons list to make this decision. Not even close. Because there was only one con I could think of.
He wasn’t Jax.
And that wasn’t enough of a reason to say no anymore.
So I took a deep breath and notched my chin up, daring myself not to get stuck in this place of pining and wanting and waiting for someone who might never want me in the same way.
“I’d love to go out with you,” I told Dean.
And I meant it.
He called me that night to set something up because he told me he couldn’t wait another day. And the following evening, as I pulled on my best date dress—a sleek pale pink number that dipped low over my cleavage and skirted my thighs—there was only one fleeting moment when I thought about Jax getting on a plane and being gone for months. Just once.
There was no point in lying that the one thought wasn’t painful. Where my ribs felt a little too tight, and my heart squeezed uncomfortably. But I forced that thought to be short, taking my time with my makeup and hair for a first date that I was excited about.
My mom was damn near giddy as she watched me leave.
Dean was, in no uncertain terms, the perfect first date. He opened doors. Pulled out my chair. Brought me to an expensive, romantic restaurant. Asked excellent, thoughtful questions. Laughed easily and often. Treated the server with kindness, leaving a huge tip at the end of the night.
And when he brought me back home, he walked me to the door and stared down into my face. There was no hiding that he wanted me. It was practically screaming from his eyes, the way they locked on my lips when I thanked him for awonderful dinner. I waited for the eruption of nerves, the butterflies in my belly and lungs and veins, and even if it wasn’t powerful, I did feel something.
“So your mom might have told me that you’ve had trouble finding the kind of guy who warrants a second date,” he said smoothly.
I breathed out a quiet laugh. “My mom talks too much when she sees you.”
Dean grinned, that dimple popping again. “I do like a challenge,” he admitted.
One eyebrow arched slowly. “Is that what this is? See if you can win me over because others couldn’t?”
His eyes locked on mine so intensely that I lost my breath a little. “Maybe,” he admitted. “And maybe I think you’re worth chasing if no one else has been able to catch you yet.”
I bit down on my bottom lip to stem the immediate smile that threatened to bloom. He reached his hand up and pulled lightly on my chin, my lip escaping from my teeth.
“I’d love to kiss you good night, Poppy,” he said, his rich voice causing the slightest of shivers along my spine. Then he leaned down, and at the last minute, he turned his head and brushed a whisper of a kiss along my cheek. “But I think I’ll wait until our next date, if that’s okay with you,” he whispered against my skin.
Oh.
