Page 9 of Romero and Juliette

“Just a once-over on the van,” I say. “I’m heading south tomorrow to pick up some refugees.”

She straightens and tugs a pale blonde braid over her shoulder. Wide blue eyes meet mine, a genuine smile in place.

Fuck she’s pretty.

Too young! I try to repeat that in my head like a fucking mantra.

But her lips are moving, which means she’s talking.

“How many?” she asks again.

“Technically, four on the manifest. But one of them was rescued from a puppy farm and she’s pregnant. They think she could deliver any day now.” I swipe at the back of my neck. “So it could be more than four.” I keep my words clipped and my gaze anywhere but on the smear of grease on her jaw that my fingers itch to wipe away.

“Copy that.” She gives me a salute with her wrench. “I’ll get you road-ready. Jude!” she yells toward the office. “Cruz is here.”

So she does know my actual name. Having her call me Romeo rankles, but hearing my given name on her lips is way worse. A door creaks, and her brother steps out, wiping his hands on a rag.

“I can see that, Juliette,” Jude says. He jabs his thumb in Flynn’s direction. “Flynn is here too.”

“You’re so cranky when Emory is out of town,” Juliette says. “Next time, go with her.”

“And leave you and our idiot cousins in charge? I don’t think so.”

“Romero,” Jude says. He clasps my hand and I swear he squeezes just a little too tightly. If Flynn said anything to him, I will kick his ass.

“Winslow,” I say. “Just need the van looked over before I leave town in the morning.”

Jude looks back at his sister. “You want me to do it?”

“I’ve got it,” she says, already lifting the hood to take a peek.

“There’s coffee,” she says, her voice partially muffled. “Fair warning: it’s awful. I tried a new brand because Sofia said we needed to ‘elevate the experience.’”

“Cruz only drinks girly coffee,” Flynn says.

Juliette peeks at him over the hood. She quirks one eyebrow.

“No offense.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I mutter to him.

Dane: ETA for Beaumont run tomorrow?

Me: Wheels up 0600. At the garage now getting her checked over.

Flynn: He means he’s checking her out.

I shoot him a glare.

Dane: Intake room is cleared. 4 crates set. I’ll be there to help you unload. Don’t let Liam reorganize my labels again.

Liam: Your labels are a crime scene.

Evan: Remember to get shelter records signed. If the shepherd is the heartworm-positive one, I left meds in your go-bag. Dosage is highlighted.

Beau: Got you a full gas card in the visor, my dude. And I put a case of the good jerky under the bench seat. Not that peppered shoe leather you pretend to like.

Me: I like the peppered shoe leather. Copy on meds, records, crate count. Gas card noted.