WE ARE ONE: Volume Two

by Jewel, Bella

For the third time?

  What the hell sort of date request was that? This was serious. He was here for the starved little creature in his arms. Not for his selfish needs.

  Ugh, men.

  This was why I didn’t date. I didn’t understand them and I had no time for things I didn’t understand. I had important work to do—such as saving lives of dogs and cats and the occasion rabbit and budgie.

  I didn’t need a man moaning about my long hours or the stink of urine on my clothes from panicked puppies when I came home.

  No way.

  Not for me.

  “Let’s just do what you’re here for, shall we?” I swiped back a runaway curl and grabbed a fresh towel from the stack we kept in the corner. “Everything else isn’t important.”

  Not looking at him, I spread the towel over the stainless steel table and waited until Ryder placed the trembling wiener onto it.

  I’d had a cat all my life and whenever she needed to visit a vet, the most stressful thing was trying to grip the slippery steel—unable to get good purchase while a stranger stuck fingers where they didn’t belong.

  I refused to let the animals I cared for go through such panic. The laundry of towels was a small price to pay for the animals who could sit calmly and have a stable foundation to face their worst nightmares.

  Ryder Carson stood too close, but I didn’t berate him. His hazel eyes hinted that he hadn’t forgotten about a date but he was worried enough about the dog to let it go.

  For now.

  Without saying a word, he suddenly pushed off the table and headed toward the door where Amanda’s voice trickled inside from another patient’s arrival.

  The soft click of the lock made my heart pound.

  It was common practice to close the door.

  We needed privacy to talk about delicate matters relating to the pet in question.

  So why does it suddenly feel way too claustrophobic in here?

  My heart hammered harder as my skin prickled in annoyance.

  Yes, annoyance.

  Not attraction or desire.

  Not desire.

  Definitely not desire.

  “Will he be okay?” He moved closer to the table, placing his hands on the towel and smiling at the long skinny excuse of a dog. How anything like this survived evolution was beyond me.

  Ryder’s dark brown hair was messy and wild as if he’d run his hand too many times through the strands. His jaw held a five o’clock shadow that looked hard earned rather than a fashion statement, and his body gave off an aggressive but possessive aura that somehow frightened me and intoxicated me at the same time.

  This man had hard edges and soft and the soft was only visible when he looked at hurting dogs and placed his trust in me to fix it.

  His eyes burned a scorching hole through me as he waited for my reply.

  I dropped my gaze. “He should be.” Giving false hope was too easy in this business. As humans, we wanted to be the ones to offer hope and promises of being able to repair things. But in reality, sometimes we didn’t have that power. I did my best not to make it sound like I could heal everything when sometimes that promise never came true.

  That was the hardest part of this job.

  Saying goodbye to a little soul who just wasn’t saveable.

  Grabbing my stethoscope, I held the wiggling body as he did his best to snuggle into my waist and listened to his heart.

  The flurry was fast. I had to close my eyes to cut out the distraction of Ryder Carson and concentrate. Once I had the beats per minute, I finished listening and unhooked the stethoscope from my ears. “He’s running fast, but that’s probably the adrenaline from being around people—especially if he’s been abandoned and dumped into new sensations.”

  Ryder didn’t comment; merely nodded and let me run my hands over Pikachu’s breakable bones and palpitate an empty stomach. “He doesn’t feel hot or swollen anywhere, so I don’t think he’s hurt himself while on his own, but the lack of suppleness in his skin and dullness of his coat has me worried about his hydration.”

  “You already said.”

  My hackles went up. “Excuse me for repeating myself.” I smiled coyly. “After all, you are a man. Just being kind in case you didn’t listen to me the first time.”

  He bared his teeth, making his handsome face freaking drop dead gorgeous. With his messy hair flopping over his forehead and the three day scruff, he looked like any fuckable but perfectly acceptable bring-home-to-meet-the-family boyfriend material.

  There was something about him that wasn’t common in today’s dating world. His green and brown swirled eyes didn’t fit the persona of a playboy. I’d caught him checking out my boobs and even my ass, but he didn’t give off that snaky, slimy vibe of wanting to get into my knickers just for the sake of tiddling his lizard in my kiddy pool.

  He was intrigued by me but he wasn’t going to lie about who he was to screw me.

  Clearing his throat, he grinned. “You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” He chuckled. “Wow, pot calling kettle black and all that.”

  My shoulders tensed. “What does that even mean?”

  “The kettle thing?”

  I scratched Pikachu as an excuse to look away. I hadn’t been paying attention. My damn uterus had stolen my brain function.

  Stupid oestrogen.

  Ryder smiled smugly. “I think it means, don’t be hypocritical.”

  My gaze shot up. “Did you just call me a hypocrite? You really are on a roll today.”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m not a hypocrite. That’s a—”

  “I just asked if I should grab some high strength puppy food to fatten him out and you zoned out on my—I don’t even know what you were staring at? My nose perhaps, it is rather good looking.” He patted the body part in question.

  He was right. It was pretty proportional and dangnamit, I had to admit—it was a sexy nose.

  “Shit, it wasn’t my mouth, was it?” He gasped overly dramatically. “Oh my, Ms. Fairfax, were you thinking about…” He leaned in, dropping his over-the-top act and sinking directly into sin. “…kissing me.”

  “What?!” My cheeks switched from pale to bonfire. “No way.”

  He inched around the table, coming closer with every step.

  My eyes automatically dropped to his trousers where a very firm bulge made my mouth dry up.

  “Maybe you do want to touch it.”

  “Touch it?” My fingers squeezed the poor wiener, making him yelp. “I’m already touching it.” I patted the dog’s head. “See…touching it.”

  He chuckled, knowing he’d rubbed a nerve and enjoying my reaction. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He stood with his legs spread boldly, giving me full view of what trouser snake he possessed. “You can squeeze my salami if you want. Poor Pikachu has been through enough, don’t you think?”

  I threw my hands up. “Wow, you really are something else.”

  “Something incredible, you mean?”

  “Something delusional more like.”

  He laughed. “You’re too easy.”

  “Easy?!” How dare he call me easy? I wasn’t easy. I hadn’t had sex in sixteen months. That was the opposite of easy. I didn’t believe in internet dating and I had no life. I worked, I restocked the surgery, I went home to my pussy cat, and relaxed with a book or Netflix.

  The end.

  If I was easy, wouldn’t I be parading myself on line and going on tinder or whatever it was where sexual hook-ups took place these days? I mean, how did those sites even work? Had computer cameras advanced so far they delivered orgasms via the World Wide Web now?

  The tense moment stretched.

  Pikachu barked as his new owner encroached on my space, crossing the half-way point and into my territory.

  Alert. Alert.

  Mayday.

  My heart went bananas as Ryder inched his fingers across the table toward mine.

  I ripped them away.

  I did
the one thing a vet should never do.

  I left my little doggy patient alone and unsupported on the table.

  Panicking and feeding off the confusion in the room, Pikachu launched himself off the high ledge.

  Everything happened in slow motion.

  Ryder took a step back, his arms outstretched to catch the flying bratwurst. I threw myself forward, hoping to scoop the soaring sausage from the air.

  He remained standing, I bent horizontal.

  Horror ensured.

  My face landed squarely on his cock.

  Boom.

  Nose to shaft, chin to balls.

  I felt him.

  Hard but soft. Hot but steel.

  I felt him on my face!

  Get it off.

  Oh my God, what did I do in a previous life to deserve this?

  A loud humph escaped his lips as victory replaced my shock. I caught the plummeting dog and saved the day. Standing up straight, I quickly placed the squirmy creature back onto the table and pulled out my script pad to jot down what he would need to buy.

  He needs to leave.

  Now.

  I didn’t care if Polly refused to look after him. She’d have to after this.

  I’m mortified.

  The poor guy was doubled over in pain, sucking in gasps of air.

  By the time I’d scribbled a puppy formula and a few vitamins, he was able to stand upright. A loud laugh froze my fingers and I couldn’t stop my head from tilting upward.

  “You know…” He wheezed through another wash of pain. “I offered you the right to touch it. Not face plant into it.”

  He cupped the delicate meat and veg between his legs. It wasn’t just snack size, either. It was banquet—need to go back for seconds and possibly thirds—size.

  Damn him.

  Damn him and his sexy face and alluring cock.

  Tonight, I wouldn’t just be reading, I would be scrolling online for a vibrating friend to replace the broken one I’d put out of commission last month. I hadn’t replaced it up till now because I didn’t want to have the temptation every night.

  Who had a relationship with her fun-for-one wand, anyway? Not a sane woman. But this sort of issue was exactly why a woman had a relationship with battery operated toys.

  Because situations like this—face in crotch situations—wouldn’t be nearly as awkward if she’d had an orgasm or three, and could withstand the nuclear superpowers of a virile single man sniffing around for sex.

  Go away, superman, and leave me be.

  However, if Ryder heard my silent request, he did the opposite. Leaning toward me, he inhaled.

  Did he just sniff me?

  He said, “You know, if you were interested, you only had to ask.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Not interested or not in the mood to ask?” He grinned. “Because really, you just took advantage of me in your work place behind locked doors. That’s a case for the courts. Don’t you think?”

  “You wouldn’t.” I froze. “It was an accident. You know it was. You wouldn’t dare—”

  He buffed his nails on his white t-shirt beneath a faded brown bomber jacket—even his clothes were hot. Where did men like him shop? Sex-R-us?

  “I would dare if you continue to annoy me.”

  My heart raced. I didn’t know if it was from a threatened law suit or the sexual awareness fizzing my blood. “How am I annoying you? I do everything you ask. I drop my other patients when you show up. I give you discounts on supplements—”

  “Only because I bulk order and give you a small fortune.”

  Well yes, but that’s beside the point. “That doesn’t mean—”

  “That you’re obligated to go out with me?”

  I nodded.

  “But it does mean that I’ve been nice to you—the perfect customer. All I wanted was safety and consideration when using your practice. What would the jury have to say if I told them you tried to extort me for more money by coming on to me?”

  I couldn’t do this. “You’re insane.”

  “I’ve been called that before. Doesn’t stop me getting what I want.”

  Don’t ask.

  Don’t be that stupid.

  My mouth didn’t get the memo. “And what do you want?”

  His smile turned into a shark. “You, of course.” Taking my hand that was firmly planted on Pikachu’s shoulders to prevent any more jumping mishaps, he curled his fingers around mine. “I accept your offer of a date. After all, that’s what your face on my cock meant, right? In some barbarian language, sniffing my man goods is code for ‘take me out, you stud?’”

  I groaned. “Oh my God, did you just call yourself ‘man goods’ and ‘stud’ in the same sentence?”

  He smirked. “Yep. And I’ve plenty more self-compliments to come. At dinner.”

  “No dinner.”

  “Yes, dinner.”

  “I work late.”

  “So unwork.”

  I rolled my eyes. “This is my business. I can’t just play hooky.”

  “Hooky is fun, now and again.” Moving back to his side of the table, the intensity faded and the crazy innuendoes vanished as if they’d never existed. He rolled his shoulders, sighing heavily. “Look, forget it. You know I’m joking. Just having a bit of fun.”

  The sudden switch left me high and dry.

  I knew it was a joke.

  Didn’t I?

  But that was the problem. He made me hate being so damn serious all the time. With him I could be stupid and say juvenile things. He offered a break from adulting and that was far too tempting.

  “Okay, fine.” Forcing myself to focus on being a professional, I murmured, “Let’s just finish this.”

  Ryder obeyed (for the first time) and our attention landed on the shivering wiener. I grabbed a sterilised syringe and drew blood while Ryder kept him calm with soft words and petting.

  Medical terms and recommended treatments filled my head rather than images of riding this intoxicating man reverse cowgirl in my office.

  Once the dog’s blood had been gathered and labelled for lab work, I said, “You’ll need to feed him four times a day but in small amounts so his stomach doesn’t explode.”

  “Hear that, buddy?” He scratched the mutt under his chin. “Don’t want an exploding tummy now do we?”

  The pooch yipped and licked Ryder’s nose.

  I melted.

  I was no longer a girl but a puddle.

  How did this happen?

  This infuriating man and his jackass jokes turned into putty when he spoke to a creature with four legs.

  Maybe, I should get on all fours and he’d be nicer to me.

  The idea shoved aside treatment plans once again in favour of blow jobs and addicting kisses, proving to myself that I sucked as a vet and needed to either go back to university or never be in the same room as Ryder Carson again.

  Polly can have him.

  This business was half hers. She could take one for the team.

  However, as Ryder grabbed his wiener and held out his hand for the script, the thought of him having the same kinky, heated conversation with Polly, instead of me, twisted my gut.

  Shit.

  I liked him.

  And there was no room in my colour-coded diary for a dirty talker, pooch lover, and gorgeously handsome man.

  Even if I did want to touch it.

  Chapter Four

  Ryder

  IT WAS TOO FUCKING EASY.

  She was so uptight; one tug on her strings and it sent her spinning like a top.

  I laughed out loud, staring at the ceiling where a flake of paint had come unstuck thanks to years of neglect and howling storms with no one to patch the damage.

  I wasn’t unhappy in my life. I found purpose and friendship and kept myself busy doing things that granted good karma and an even better feeling of worth. But Vesper Fairfax patched up that tiny hole left inside that no activity could fill.

  Fun.

&
nbsp; She made me set down my rules and seriousness and want to be an annoying idiot with far too much testosterone. She made me crave stupidity that came from no expectations or aspirations—just playing together because we could.

  Not that she thought it was fun when I threatened her with a bogus law suit.

  My gaze followed the flaky paint to the crack in the wall caused by a decade of slow leaks. The small town of Thorn River didn’t often have bad weather—in fact, we were pretty lucky as far as hurricanes and earthquakes went—however, nothing was worse than carelessness.

  And this house had seen its fair share of unwanted abandonment.

  I wasn’t saying Thorn River didn’t have bad weather. Shit, being a township along the famous rapids meant the area flooded every few years. But apart from that, it was a safe community.

  Only problem was, I was still fairly new.

  An outsider.

  I’d grown up a few towns away, but in a parish of a few thousand people that meant I was a foreigner. I’d been a novelty when I first arrived, slowly becoming accepted or scorned depending on who I managed to piss off. Now, I was the butt of most jokes for buying the local dilapidated old mayor’s estate from the gold rush era.

  No one had wanted the mess and I couldn’t fault them. The typical wrap around veranda, southern style mansion with rickety balconies, pretty spindles, large bay windows, and enormous cold bedrooms in winter was a fucking money pit.

  But it had potential. And I’d keep fighting for it.

  I’d bought this wreck sight unseen.

  Stupid, right?

  (Go on, you can say it was stupid).

  I still thought it was stupid even though I’d fallen a little in love with the place. I’d been there a year and already my parent’s life insurance fund had been put toward new windows, building work, and erecting a large barn just a few metres away from the main house where my rescued pooches lived.

  Every day, there was a construction team on site so I wasn’t lonely.

  But a year in a small town while trying to make friends wasn’t easy. Really, the only time I felt marginally happy (after my parents died on my twenty-eighth birthday last year from a fatal train crash in Spain) was when I tormented Vesper.

  Her quick come backs. The glare in her eyes.

  She was alive.