Crazy, Hot Love

by K. L. Grayson

  “Want me to kick his ass?” Trevor asks.

  “No.” I pout, slouching against the bar. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  Rhett rubs a hand over my back, and I lean into him, grateful to have such a wonderful friend and even more grateful that he and Mo were able to find happiness in each other. I’m also secretly jealous and worried I’ll never find that for myself.

  “What do you need, Claire? Want me to call Mo?”

  “No. I’m just going to go home.”

  “You sure?” he asks. “We can go shoot some pool, maybe throw some darts?” I shake my head, and he continues. “Wanna relive our teens? I’m not opposed to cow-tippin’.”

  Laughing, I look over at him. “Those were fun times.”

  “The best.”

  I’m jolted on my stool when some busty blonde squeezes between Trevor and me. She leans in close, whispering something in his ear, and then giggles.

  And that’s my cue to go.

  “Goodnight, Rhett. Linc,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder when I stand up. He gives me an obligatory nod, but he’s too engrossed in a texting war on his phone. Grabbing my purse from the bar, I fling it over my shoulder. Trevor’s heated gaze catches mine over Blondie’s shoulder.

  “’Night, Red,” he says when I walk by.

  I hate that nickname. Hate. It. Just because I have an untamable mane of red hair doesn’t mean I need the obligatory nickname. Usually I’d rip him a new one for using it, and maybe he’s trying to draw that out of me, but tonight I don’t have the energy.

  “Goodnight, Trevor.” I keep walking. The weight of the evening sits heavily on my shoulders as I head for the front door. I reach for the handle and then stop to steal one last glimpse of Trevor, needing a reminder of why I shouldn’t lust after a guy like him—a guy who oozes testosterone, has had more women than I’ve had pedicures, and whose idea of fun is running into a burning building. Only when I look back, Blondie is long gone, and Trevor is watching me.

  It shouldn’t make me feel better that she’s no longer perched on his lap, but it does. Maybe the next time I date, it’ll be a guy of my own choosing—someone who isn’t a pencil pusher. Someone more like Trevor.

  Smiling, I duck my head and walk out.

  3

  Claire

  “Morning. I come bearing gifts.”

  Mo drops the rake and looks up at me.

  “And by gifts, I mean caffeine in the form of coffee,” I say, handing her a steaming cup.

  Mo brings the cup to her nose, closes her eyes, and takes a big whiff. “You’re a godsend.”

  “How’s Peanut? Did she have her baby yet?”

  Mo looks exhausted, and I’m certain she’s covered in horse shit, but I refuse to comment on her state of disarray.

  “She did.” Mo smiles proudly, as if she herself had given birth. “Mama and baby are doing great.”

  “And Mo? How’s Mo doing? Because you look like a feather could knock you over.”

  Using her arm, she pushes a chunk of hair out of her eyes. “That’s pretty much how I feel. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours.”

  “Jesus, Mo. You should’ve called me sooner. I would’ve come last night to relieve you for a while.”

  “I know you would’ve.” Mo blows across the top of her cup and takes a sip of her coffee. “Do you have any plans today?”

  “Nothing other than helping you.”

  “Good,” she sighs. “Because I really need you to take over here so I can go home and get some rest.”

  “Of course. That’s why I’m here. You don’t even have to ask.”

  Her shoulders relax as she blows out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I owe you one. And you won’t be entirely on your own. Trevor is here.”

  My hand stops midway to my mouth. “Oh.” Slowly, I bring my cup the rest of the way and take a drink.

  “Rhett had to drive back to Houston this morning—he and Lincoln are training for their next ride—so Trevor offered to come help out. He’s going to mend a few fences for me and then help you with whatever you need.”

  An entire day of ogling Trevor? Yes, please. And if I’m extra lucky, he’ll take his shirt off, and I’ll get to see all of those tight, defined muscles soaked in sweat.

  “Sounds good. We’ll get it all done.”

  “Are you sure? Because you’ll probably be here until late this evening. I need you to lay new shavings down in Peanut’s stall. She made a mess last night. Plus, I received seven more dogs yesterday, as well as two cats, and then there’s the foal—”

  “Mo…” I place my hand on her shoulder and gently turn her toward the front of the barn. “I know how to take care of Animal Haven. I’ve done it many times while you’ve been gone.”

  “Yes, but never with this many animals.”

  “I’m going to be fine. And if I have any questions, I’ll ask Trevor. Together we’ll get through the day.”

  She sighs. “Okay. I’ll show you the newbies before I leave.” She leads the way out of the barn. We walk past my truck, and I look around for Trevor’s, but it’s nowhere to be found. Maybe he isn’t here yet.

  I follow Mo into the kennels, listening intently as she introduces me to all of the new animals, telling me their stories and what kind of care they need.

  “Don’t forget to keep the new ones away from the others until I get them checked by the vet. Plus, I haven’t had time to evaluate their behavior, although none of them has shied away from me or tried to bite.”

  “I remember. What’s his deal?” I ask, nodding toward the cage on the end.

  Animal Haven is huge. Mo’s kennels are big enough to house two dogs to one pen but luckily, she hasn’t needed to do that.

  “Someone left this little pup in a box by the front door two days ago. No collar or chip.” She opens the cage and crouches down, inching her way toward the dog. “A little skittish, but I would be too if I were blind.”

  “Blind?” I follow her into the pen and join her on the floor. The tan fur ball hasn’t moved. He’s curled up tight.

  Mo talks softly before petting the pup, and when her hand makes contact, the dog flinches. His lids pop open, and now I see it. His eyes look cloudy as he tilts his head toward the sound of Mo’s voice.

  “Name?”

  “Nothing yet.”

  I scoop the little guy up and cradle him on my lap. At first he shivers, and I’m not sure if he’s cold or scared, so I cuddle him close, and he relaxes.

  “Looks like a Pomeranian,” I say.

  “That’s what I thought too.”

  I kiss the little ball of fur on the head before setting him back down. “Anything else I need to know before you go?”

  “No.” Mo stands up and brushes her butt off, and I follow her out of his cage, making sure it’s locked before we step back outside. “Not that I can think of.”

  “Where’s Ruby?”

  Ruby is Mo’s dog. They rescued her as a pup and she became the resident pet at Animal Haven. Now she shares that role with Pickles, a snobby cat that I can’t help but love.

  Mo frowns. “Rhett and I decided it was time to move her home with us. She’s just getting too old to run around out here by herself. Last week another dog plowed her over and I didn’t think she was going to get back up. She just can’t keep up with the life here.”

  “Poor Ruby. How’s she doing being at your house?”

  “Well, considering she’s only ever lived here, she hates it.” Mo laughs but lacks humor. “But she’ll get used to it. She has to.”

  “She will. It just might take some time.” She nods and I continue. “You said Trevor was here, but I didn’t see his truck.”

  “Oh,” she says, grabbing her keys off the hook by the door before we step outside. “He’s around here somewhere. He had to haul some lumber out to fix the fence. You probably won’t see much of him today…unless you want to. And no one would blame you for watching that man work. He is sex on a stick.”

 
; “Really? You haven’t even asked me how my date went with Joseph—a date you set up—and you’re already suggesting I ogle Trevor?”

  “You were going to ogle Trevor whether I suggested or not.” Mo shrugs. “And I already know how your date went with Joseph. I’m so sorry, Claire. I can’t believe he invited his mother. I mean, I knew they were close because he has a ton of pictures of her in his office, but I had no idea he would take it that far. And then for them to suggest you drink too much…” Mo shakes her head.

  “Rhett is such a blabbermouth.”

  “It wasn’t Rhett. I’m the one who told her.”

  Mo and I turn at the husky sound of Trevor’s voice, and my tongue nearly rolls out of my mouth. Trevor is coming across the yard in nothing but a faded pair of jeans, cowboy boots, and a pair of dirty gloves. Lord have mercy, I think my panties just melted.

  Trevor stops at the barn, grabs a piece of wood, and hoists it onto his shoulder. My mouth waters as I try not to stare. But it’s hard. So, so hard. Literally. His chest is a work of art, almost inhuman, like a sculptor chiseled away on a block of stone until his piece was absolutely perfect, and then he named his artistry Trevor.

  Mo nudges me in the arm. I blink and clear my throat.

  “Maybe you should mind your own business, Trevor.” My voice is way too shaky for my bite to do any good.

  “And maybe you should wipe the drool from your chin.”

  My lips part, and I scoff. “I am not drooling.”

  “Nothing to be ashamed of, Red. If you were parading in front of me without a shirt on, I’d be drooling too.” Trevor winks and disappears around the building.

  “I hate it when he calls me Red.”

  “No, you don’t. You secretly love it because he’s the only one who does,” Mo says.

  “I’m not arguing with you about this right now. I have work to do.” Grabbing Mo’s shoulders, I direct her to her truck, open the door, and shove her inside. “Go home. Sleep. I’ll call you later.”

  “You sure you’ll be okay here today?”

  “I’m good. Now go.”

  4

  Claire

  “This is your own fault. I warned you that you’d get a bath if you ran through the mud, but you didn’t listen.”

  Murphy looks at me with the most adorable, soulful eyes I’ve ever seen. He’s a mutt—the perfect mixture of what I believe to be a Boxer and Labrador with floppy ears, big brown eyes, and a playful temperament.

  “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not getting out of this.”

  I lather him up, but Murphy is having no part of it. Once he realizes his cute looks won’t get him out of a bath, he thrashes around, trying to make a run for it.

  “Oh, no you don’t.” I clip his leash to the pole above the wash basin, and once he’s settled down, I finish scrubbing. “See, this isn’t so bad? And now you’re going to smell good, and all the lady dogs are going to go crazy.” Murphy whimpers. “I know, baby,” I coo, rinsing the soap out of his coat. “I’d be scared of them too. They only want you for your good looks. They have no idea you’re just a big, sweet teddy bear.”

  With a steady stream of baby-talk and the promise of lots of treats, I’m able to finish bathing Murphy. I dry him off, lift him out of the tub, and walk him back to his kennel.

  “There you go, Murph. Your food bowl is full, your blanket is clean, and now you smell like mangos.” I give him a good rub down before shutting the door.

  I step back and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as my eyes sweep the room to make sure I didn’t forget anyone. The morning flew by. I’ve cleaned all the kennels, changed out the water bowls, and fed all of the animals. I’ve done a load of laundry, washing all of the blankets and towels, and I’ve let the first group of dogs out in the pasture to run.

  You’d think I’d be almost done, but that’s not even half of it. I still have to take out the newbies individually, give four more baths, take care of the horses, and then take the bigger dogs on a longer walk. But first, lunch.

  Taking care of Animal Haven without having Mo here used to stress me out. The endless, back-breaking work, plus keeping all of the animals straight—who gets what medicine and how much food and outside time. But the more I do it, the easier it gets, and I’ve come to enjoy my alone time here. I can see why Mo loves her job. Don’t get me wrong—I love teaching, and I love my kids, but taking care of an animal is rewarding in a different way. These innocent little creatures don’t expect a thing, and they give every bit of love in return while they wait for their forever homes.

  Speaking of innocent little animals…

  Before heading to the front office to make my lunch, I decide to check on the blind pup one more time. He’s standing at his food bowl. His legs are like tiny sticks, barely visible under all that hair, and I can’t help but laugh. The pup freezes, then lifts his nose in the air and sniffs.

  Maybe he recognizes my scent. I imagine since he’s blind, he uses his other senses to acclimate himself to his surroundings.

  “Hey there, little guy,” I say, unlocking the pen. “Did you finally decide to get a bite to eat?”

  I stand back, waiting to see if he’ll come to me, and sure enough, after a few moments he sniffs the air again, following his nose toward me. Remaining still, I allow the pup to get familiar with my scent, and when he stops sniffing and sits at my feet, I take it as an open invitation to pick him up.

  Bending down, I scoop him up by the belly. “We should give you a name,” I say, scratching the soft spot behind his ear. “I can’t keep calling you fur ball and pup, it just doesn’t feel right. How about Max?” I look at his face. He sneezes. “Nah. You don’t look like a Max. How about Milo? That’s a nice, strong boy name.” The pup licks the top of my hand, obviously in agreement. “Well, okay then. Milo it is.”

  When I bend down to set Milo on the floor, he lets out a high-pitched bark.

  “So you can talk. I was starting to wonder.” Milo lifts his head, and if he could see, I imagine he would be looking at me. “Do you want to hang with me a little more?”

  “Arf.”

  “Fine, fine. You don’t have to beg.” Milo gets settled in my arms as I walk to the main office. The bell chimes when I open the front door, and Milo yaps again. He wiggles in my arms, and when I set him down, he takes off running. His little stick legs carry him as fast as they can until he rams head first into a chair.

  Pickles lifts his head from his bed in the corner and blinks heavily but doesn’t get flustered at Milo’s presence.

  “Oh!” I cringe when Milo stumbles to the side. Maybe I was wrong about his other senses; maybe he hasn’t figured that part out yet. “You’ve got to be more careful,” I scold, picking him up. “You’re blind, remember?” Milo blinks up at me as I rub the spot on his head where he hit and then lower him to the couch. “Stay here with Pickles while I make myself a sandwich. And don’t pee. Mo will kill me if you pee on her couch.” I turn my attention to Pickles. “And you play nice.”

  Pickles stretches his arms and legs out as far as they’ll go and rolls over without a care in the world.

  “Fine, ignore him, that works too.”

  The main office of Animal Haven isn’t much of an office. It’s more like an apartment since Mo stays here on occasion. There’s a couch, table, desk, and TV all in the front room, as well as a bathroom and a semi-stocked kitchen off to the side. Thank God she keeps food in the kitchen, because I forgot to make a lunch.

  Whistling, I throw together a turkey sandwich for myself and two for Trevor. I haven’t seen him since this morning, and there’s no lunch box in the refrigerator, so I’m guessing he either forgot his lunch or he’s planning on leaving to get food. No sense in that when I’m here.

  I polish off my sandwich, a bag of chips, and a soda, all while Milo snoozes on the couch.

  “Come on, sleepyhead,” I call when I’m done.

  Milo lifts his head and drops it back down, clearly too exhausted f
rom a long day of doing nothing to get up.

  “Fine, lazy butt.” I grab the pooch along with the sack lunch I packed Trevor and walk outside. It would be easier to hop on the four-wheeler to find him, but it’s nice out, and I could use the exercise.

  Hooking a leash to Milo’s collar, I start walking, but he has different plans. He plops down on the soft grass and rolls over, revealing his underbelly.

  “Get up.” I tug on the leash a bit, but the dog doesn’t move. “Carrying you around is getting old.” But I do it anyway, and he rewards me with a slobbery lick across the face.

  With Milo in one arm and Trevor’s lunch in the other, I make the short walk across the back forty, following the tire marks Trevor’s truck left in the grass. When I find him, his Chevy is parked off to the side, giving me a gorgeous view of the man himself. Slowing my pace, I allow myself time to drink him in, studying the way his muscles shift and flex beneath his skin as he swings the hammer.

  Trevor swipes his arm across his face, mussing up his dark hair in the process, which makes it look better than it already did. Damn him. Men like Trevor should be required to walk around with a flashing neon sign above their heads, warning all women of their potent sexuality.

  When I’m within an earshot, I put Milo down and call out to Trevor. “Hungry?”

  His arm is raised to swing the hammer when looks back at me. Lowering the tool, he pulls out the rag hanging from his back pocket and wipes off his hands as he walks toward me.

  “That depends.”

  My back stiffens. If he even says he wanted ham instead of turkey, I’m going to slap him. “On what?”

  “Are you on the menu?”

  I tilt my head. “Are you flirting with me?”

  He watches me while I wait for his answer, and then he laughs. “No, Claire, I’m just messing with you.”

  “Oh.” Damn.

  5

  Trevor