Flirting with Love

by Melissa Foster

  She trapped her lower lip in her teeth and fiddled with the edge of her hoodie. “Maybe. I couldn’t very well leave her by herself. I would have worried all night that she’d wander off.”

  He knew she’d have done just that. Ross’s phone rang and Jim Trowell’s name flashed on the screen. His chest tightened. Jim was Kelsey’s grandfather, and his dog was on its last days.

  “I’ve got to take this call, but I’ll bring Dolly up to the barn in a few minutes.”

  “Do you mind if I take Storm with me?” She trapped her lower lip in her teeth and widened her eyes, looking too damn cute for him to even think.

  “Sure.” He watched her walk away to retrieve her bike with Storm on her heels, and he wondered how long it would take for her to steal Storm’s heart.

  He turned his attention to the call and spoke to Jim Trowell. Sure enough, Jim’s dog, Gracie, wasn’t doing well, and Jim wanted Ross to come check her out.

  He led Dolly up to the barn and found Elisabeth sitting on the front porch holding a hammer and a box of nails, looking adorable.

  “What are you going to do with those?” Ross sat beside her.

  “Try to jury-rig the fence so it’ll be safe until I can get it repaired.” She knitted her brow and looked at him like he had asked a ridiculous question.

  “You can’t fix it with a hammer and nails. We have to buy new rails, but first I have to go see a client. Kelsey’s grandfather’s dog isn’t doing very well and I need to stop by.”

  “Aw, poor thing. What’s wrong with it?”

  “Old age. I’m afraid she doesn’t have much time left.” He pushed to his feet. “Why don’t I pick up the wood on the way back? Dolly’s fine in the barn for the night. I’ll come by before dawn and fix the fence.”

  She rose to her feet and followed him to his truck. “I can call someone to fix the fence.”

  He arched a brow.

  “Okay, maybe they wouldn’t come out right away, but you can tell me who to call.”

  “I’ll fix your fence,” he said too adamantly. If Ross didn’t fix her fence, the only other option was Chet Daily. Chet was Mr. Fix It around Trusty. He fixed fences and barns, and handled other farm and ranch repairs. Chet was known in high school as the virgin slayer—and in the years since, his reputation hadn’t changed. There was no way Ross was going to let a guy like Chet go anywhere near sweet, beautiful Elisabeth. “I’ve got it. Really.” He opened the truck door.

  “Okay, well, then, can I go with you to see Gracie? I do massages for terminally ill pets.”

  Massages for pets. He thought about that for a minute. His cousin Rex’s fiancée, Jade, did equine massage. Maybe it wasn’t too far-fetched of an idea. He dropped his gaze and leaned against the doorframe. “I may have to put her down. You don’t want to be there for that.”

  She stepped closer. “Maybe not, but I can help her feel better. It’s only a five-minute massage, but it may really help.” She stepped closer. “Please? I promise I won’t interfere with what you have to do.”

  It would be so easy to kiss her. Lean down, kiss her, done.

  Done? Yeah, right. Lean down, kiss her, make love to her until dawn.

  “Please, Ross?”

  He shook his head to clear his head. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “I have something to offer her, and I haven’t felt very useful lately. I can help ease her pain and help her relax and feel loved; that has to count for something.”

  “You’re really something, Elisabeth. You’ve got your own issues here to deal with and you’re willing to drop it all and help a dog you don’t even know.”

  “You’d do the same thing. Let me just get my house keys.”

  THIRTY MINUTES LATER they stood in Jim Trowell’s sparsely furnished living room. Gracie was sprawled on the futon Jim bought for her. When his son first gave Gracie to him, he hadn’t had the heart to teach her that she wasn’t a lapdog. Gracie was a mutt. The only heritage they were sure of was that she was part chow. She had a partially blue tongue and until recently, she’d had thick chow fur. Now she was rail thin, her fur was falling out in tufts, and she wasn’t eating. She lay on her side with her spindly legs bent at the knee. Her big head was propped on a pillow that Jim must have placed there for her. After examining her, Ross concluded what he’d already known. Gracie was nearing the end of her natural life.

  “Go ahead, Elisabeth,” he said quietly. Ross approached Jim, who was staring out the living room window into the darkness.

  Jim’s wife had passed away a few months before Kelsey’s father had given him Gracie. Gracie was supposed to be a replacement for the void his wife had left in his life, and she’d filled the space nicely, giving Jim a sense of purpose and someone to love. Thanks to Gracie, Jim had found his way back into the life he let drift away in the weeks after his wife’s death. Ross wondered how the white-haired man in his midseventies was going to adapt to losing another loved one.

  He placed a hand on Jim’s back, and as Jim turned, his eyes went directly to Gracie. Elisabeth was massaging Gracie’s leg, holding it between both hands as she squeezed gently, and massaged away the ache. Gracie closed her eyes and Elisabeth began humming a soft tune. Every few seconds, she’d slow her movements and stroke Gracie’s fur from between her brows to the base of her head.

  “You’re okay, sweetie,” she said softly, then went back to massaging Gracie’s other front leg and then each of her back legs and her hips.

  All the while Jim watched in silence, with damp eyes and a heart so heavy Ross wished he could help him carry it. Elisabeth smiled as she hummed and eased the dog’s pain. She looked happy, even though they all knew Gracie wouldn’t live much longer, and Ross could see by the way Jim’s lips had the slightest upward curve when he watched Elisabeth that seeing her treat Gracie with such respect probably helped Jim as much as it helped the dog.

  Elisabeth massaged Gracie’s back and neck and rubbed her behind the ears before wrapping her arms gently around Gracie’s body and embracing her.

  “Thank you for allowing me to pet you, Gracie. You’re a beautiful girl.” She kissed her on the snout and Gracie opened her eyes.

  Ross was sure he saw the dog smile. Gracie had developed diabetes a few years earlier, and she’d gone nearly blind two years ago. As hard as it had been to see her struggle, she’d had a positive attitude, and Jim had chosen to keep her with him, when others might have put her down. About two weeks ago, Jim had called Ross because he’d noticed a difference in Gracie’s energy level. Ross had known then that the time was near.

  “Jim?” Ross waited until he had Jim’s attention. “The blood you saw in her urine is likely from her kidneys going into failure. It’s your call.” This was the most difficult part of the end of an animal’s life, helping the owner make the final decision to continue living without their beloved pet.

  Jim nodded and rubbed his eyes with his finger and thumb.

  “I know what the right thing to do is, Ross, but I need another day with her.” Jim turned pleading eyes to Ross.

  “I understand.” Ross hadn’t become a vet to judge the way animal owners said goodbye to their pets. Some needed it over quickly, while others eked out every moment they could.

  Ross and Elisabeth drove away in silence, and when they reached the center of town, Ross reached for her hand. He wanted the connection, and somehow it felt right.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I was just thinking about how lucky Gracie is. Jim loves her so much. She must have had a great life with him.” She looked down at their hands. “How about you? Are you okay?”

  “Sure, of course. I feel bad for Gracie and Jim, but it’s all part of life, right?” He squeezed her hand.

  “Thanks for letting me go with you.”

  “Thanks for coming along. I liked having you there with me, and I think Gracie liked having you there, too.”

  Elisabeth gazed out the window. He could feel her sadness from across the
bench seat and wished he knew how to comfort her. He was better with animals than sad women. He turned the conversation away from Gracie with hopes of taking her thoughts to a better place.

  “I just remembered that my brother Luke has fencing at his place. Why don’t I take you home, and then I’ll head over and pick it up. The stores are closed now anyway. I’ll swing by in the morning to fix the fence.”

  “Are you sure? I feel like such a burden.”

  “You’re not, and yes, I’m sure.” Damn sure. Chet Daily wasn’t coming anywhere near her if he could help it.

  “Elisabeth, are you going to be okay tonight?” he asked.

  She smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “Yeah, but do you mind if I move closer? It’s one of those times when a hug would help.”

  He patted the seat beside him and she unhooked her seat belt, then belted herself in beside him and settled in beneath his arm. Ross didn’t think, or hesitate, when he pressed his lips to the side of her head, and it felt natural when she rested her head on his shoulder. They drove like that the rest of the way to her house, and when Ross pulled into the driveway, he did so reluctantly. He’d much rather keep driving, keep holding her.

  Elisabeth’s house was pitch-dark. She must have forgotten to turn on the porch light when they left. Ross parked in the driveway and helped her out of the truck. He kept a hand on her arm as they walked to the porch.

  “You don’t have a motion-sensor light?” he asked as he scanned the property. There wasn’t much crime in Trusty other than the occasional cow tipping. Trusty crimes cut deeper, like slanderous gossip and sideways glances. Neither of which he wanted to imagine Elisabeth having to endure.

  “I guess not.” She had her back to him as she tried key after key. “I can’t see well enough to find the right one.”

  Ross stepped behind her and covered her hands with his. His lips grazed her ear and he felt her body shudder. “Let me help you.”

  “Okay.” A whisper.

  She turned her head, moving her body a fraction of an inch. Her ass grazed his zipper. Their lips were an inch apart. Desire flooded Ross’s body. He couldn’t take the wanting any longer. He needed to at least feel her against him, if only for a minute or two. He leaned forward and pressed his thighs to the back of hers, wanting to turn her in his arms and feel the pillows of her breasts brush against his chest.

  “It…” She licked her lips.

  Jesus, she was sexier than hell.

  “It’s got a square top.”

  “What?” His thoughts were tangled, conflicted. He bit back his hunger and tried to focus on the goddamn keys, but her ass was brushing against his hard-on, and her lips were slick where she’d licked them. Holy hell, if he wanted her this much when she wasn’t trying to get his attention, he could only imagine what he’d be like if she ever tried.

  “The key.” She touched his hand again. “It has a square top.”

  “Right. I’ve got it.” The hell with it. He rocked his hips against her ass and unlocked the door. He wanted her to know what she was doing to him. She had to sense his desire, and if she didn’t, then at least now she’d feel it, hard as steel, against her. Putting them both in this position was either the stupidest or the smartest thing he’d ever done, and since they’d both stopped breathing, he didn’t dare make the call.

  He. Had. To. Leave.

  He turned her gently toward him and leaned one hand on the door beside her head. He felt her hot breath on his chin and ached to taste her, to breathe in the air from her lungs.

  “Ross,” she whispered.

  He touched his lips to her forehead and pressed her keys into her palm. “I’ll fix your fence before the sun’s up.” Before he could change his mind and take her in his arms, he brushed his lips over her cheek, because he couldn’t leave without a little touch, and he whispered, “Sleep well.”

  Walking away from Elisabeth was the hardest thing he’d done in years.

  He watched her go inside and flip the lights on while he started his car.

  As he turned the truck around, he amended his thoughts. Driving away from Elisabeth was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  Chapter Four

  SUNDAY MORNING ELISABETH got up with Rocky the rooster’s call, hoping to catch Ross while he was fixing the fence. Her aunt had named Rocky the first week she’d had him, because he was cocky as hell, the way he went wherever he wanted and refused to come near her. But she’d told Elisabeth that she couldn’t exactly go around saying that word aloud…and now Elisabeth’s mind was on Ross, who was definitely cocky last night. Oh boy, was he ever. He’d felt so good pressed against her back. She could barely breathe as his lips touched her cheek, but why in the hell hadn’t he kissed her? She wanted a relationship, but she also wanted that kiss so badly she could practically taste it. The cold shower she’d taken before bed last night—and the one that morning—hadn’t helped much. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating between them, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that heat like that couldn’t lead to a lasting relationship. In truth, she hadn’t tried to convince herself of that since she drove away from the clinic the first time, because maybe, just maybe, the passion igniting between them was impossible to ignore because it was really just the icing on the cake? What if beneath that icing lay something much richer, more substantial, like she’d always dreamed of?

  She hurried outside and ran to the shed to get the bike. She pedaled along the dewy grass down to the other end of the pasture and felt the weight of disappointment settle like lead in her belly. True to his word, the fence was already fixed—and she’d missed seeing him. She should have just watched for his truck. I’m so stupid. She went back to the barn and found that not only had he fixed her fence, but he’d taken care of her morning chores. The animals were fed, the stalls were clean, and when she went to let Dolly and the goats into the pasture, she found a note stuck to Dolly’s stall with a nail.

  Good morning, sleepyhead. Dolly should be safe now as long as she doesn’t sprout wings. Coffee was hot when I brought it. Your neighbor, aka farmhand, RB

  She looked around for the coffee and spotted a to-go cup on the table by the door. It was tepid, but it was from Ross, which made it perfect. She pulled out her phone and texted him.

  Coffee is perfect. Thank you! Sorry I missed you and I owe you big-time. Xox, E.

  Ross texted back. I like the sound of that.

  How was she supposed to concentrate with that tease on the table? She went inside, and by seven o’clock her counters were covered with flour and sugar, chopped fruits, and other ingredients. The radio was on, and she moved her hips to the music as she worked through her aunt’s recipes. These pies would be her debut. Her very first order since her aunt’s death. Tomorrow she’d deliver them, and hopefully, if all went well, her pies would be as good as her aunt’s and customers would be thrilled to continue ordering. She hoped they’d even spread the word to friends and relatives.

  She carefully followed her aunt’s recipes, but she had some ideas of her own in store, too. While she was at it, she cooked a batch of doggy cupcakes as a thank-you to Ross for all he’d done for her, but she promised herself she’d wait to deliver them until Monday. She’d already monopolized enough of his time. She wondered again why he hadn’t kissed her. She’d thought she’d given off an I-want-you vibe, but then again, she was better at fending men off than sexing them up.

  She’d always been proud of being the opposite of her mother in that respect, although she’d let her mother believe she was far more sexually experienced than she really was. That was easier than explaining to a promiscuous mother why, at twenty-seven, she had slept with only two men. She dated often enough that her mother assumed otherwise. The truth was, as Elisabeth’s friends were sleeping around, Elisabeth was dreaming of a future in a town she hoped one day to return to, and along with that dream came a husband who had the same values she’d learned from her aunt. She knew in her heart that she was too who
lesome for her mother’s liking, and that’s why her mother had stopped allowing her to spend time with her aunt each summer. There’s a reason women don’t live like it’s the 1950s, her mother always said.

  She thought of Ross and how she’d answered his question about her relationship with her mother. She hadn’t lied, really. She and her mother did have a good relationship. It was just a relationship based on false pretenses. She’d been so hopeful that Trusty held all the right things for her, and now, having met Ross, she was even more excited.

  When her phone rang at eight forty-five, she wasn’t surprised. Her mother had a standing mani-pedi Sunday mornings at seven thirty. Her manicurist worked only Sundays and Wednesdays, which suited her mother’s social calendar well, and by now, they were partially through one foot. Her mother’s mouth would be itching to gab and her hands itching to move before being constrained by wet nail polish.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie. How’s farm life? Ready to come home yet?”

  She pictured her mother’s long blond hair, perfectly flatironed, sweeping across the ridge of her shoulders. She’d be dressed in a Chanel suit and expensive heels, red lips carefully painted—all for her mani-pedi appointment. After high school, Elisabeth had given in to her mother’s diatribes, and she’d tried to embrace her mother’s lifestyle and to buy into her thoughts about relationships—that sexual empowerment equaled social progress and that having multiple partners meant she was climbing some important, invisible ladder. She arrived at college her freshman year with her virginity intact and quickly realized that the minute the guys she’d dated found out, their sole goal became taking it from her. She’d finally given in and slept with a producer’s son after six promising dates, but the following week he’d gone away on location and she never heard from him again. Trying to fit in and please her mother had cost her her virginity. She wasn’t a prude by any means. She wanted to fall in love and have wild, passionate, meaningful sex, but she wanted to have that sex on her terms. When she was ready. When she wanted to give her heart and body to a man in that way. She realized only too late that her virginity had meant something to her, and she could never get that back. She quickly gave up the feigned interest in fashion and pretentious conversations and let her mother continue to believe she was more like her than her aunt. It wasn’t the most honest relationship in that regard, but it made for an easier one with her mother. She was surely born to the wrong Nash sister. And she’d closed herself off even further—until Robbie. She pushed thoughts of him aside and answered her mother.