Hot Read: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 5)

by Jami Davenport

  “Horses too. We all have horses. Keep them at Derek’s farm next door to my place. That’s why I bought that house, so I can help take care of the animals.”

  “You have horses?”

  Estie nodded. “Yes, I do. Tyler and Derek used to rodeo—calf roping, stuff like that. Junior champions one year in team roping.”

  “No shit?”

  She nodded. “Do you ride?”

  “I’ve never tried it, but I’d love to.”

  “I’ll teach you. You can ride Mac or Moe. They’re both steady guys who’ll take care of you without being plugs.”

  “I wasn’t inviting myself. I mean—I, uh, don’t mean to be presumptuous.” Heat rose from his neck to the tips of his ears. He tamped down his excitement, even though being with Estie as she taught him to ride definitely appealed to him. Only two problems: time—he had none—and her engagement ring.

  “You aren’t. Trust me. I’d love to do it.” She gazed at him through lowered lashes. “I like you. We have tons in common. I think we’ll be great friends.”

  “I like you too.” Like her, hell, he was developing more than a friendly interest in her, which presented problems on so many levels.

  And right now he didn’t need more problems in his life.

  Chapter Four

  The Old vs. the New

  Estie checked in the mirror for the bazillionth time. She put her hair back in a ponytail, opting for the casual look, then took it out again, fluffed her hair, and applied another layer of candy frost lipstick. Any more and she could be mistaken for an eighties, big-hair version of cotton candy. She was a freaking emotional mess for no good reason. After all, Brett was nothing but a friend—actually, an acquaintance—as she barely knew him. Only it didn’t feel that way, not to her. So maybe he was just a potential good friend, a sympathetic ear, a person who shared her mutual love for animals. She always had room in her life for another animal-loving friend.

  Her phone rang, and she dove for it. “Yes.”

  “Estie, Mom wants us to join them for dinner about six.”

  Disappointment flooded her as Richard’s voice came across her phone, and she instantly felt guilty. “Can’t.” Even if she didn’t have plans, spending the evening with Richard’s judgmental parents didn’t work for her. Besides, tonight was about doing something for her and her animals. Tonight was about seeing Brett again—even though it shouldn’t be about that at all.

  Silence filled the dead space until it seemed noisier than the fans in the stadium during a close game. Estie waited Richard out. Finally, he started talking. And talking. And talking. When he was on a roll like this, nothing stopped him.

  Putting the phone on speaker, she set it on an end table and did some last-minute tidying as Richard talked. Dozer watched her with one eye open but decided being awake was too much work. Groaning, he rolled onto his side and snored with gusto. Marilyn gnawed on her ball, watching Estie to see if an opportunity to play might present itself. Spock and Jim shared the cat bed like they had from day one as kittens, their bodies wrapped around each other.

  Marilyn dropped the ball on her feet. Estie patted the dog on the head. “Not right now, old girl. We have a guest on his way.”

  She picked up a magazine from the coffee table and stowed it in a drawer then gazed around the room, pausing to listen to Richard’s voice still droning on. Estie added another log to the parlor stove. She swept up the ashes from the hearth and stopped, hearing Richard call her name. She snatched up the phone, sounding way too breathless. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  Richard harrumphed like an old man. “We haven’t gone out together in about a week, and my mother thinks you’re avoiding her.”

  No, shit, Sherlock. “Can’t tonight. Sorry, I have plans.”

  “Estie, is something going on I should know about?”

  “No, I can’t. I’m busy. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Estie touched the end button.

  The familiar feelings of guilt settled in. She’d been a shit to the man she was about to vow to love and cherish forever. How many kinds of messed up was that? Or was her insistence on marrying him what was really messed up? Especially when she couldn’t wait to see Brett tonight.

  But Brett was just a friend, a guy she had tons in common with. It was opposites that attracted. Right? Wrong, in Brett’s case. Very wrong. But then, so was her ridiculous crush on her brother’s temporary replacement, a man who’d be a free agent at the end of the year, most likely signing with a different team and moving far away in a few months.

  She couldn’t destroy her future plans for a temporary fling.

  Estie rubbed her eyes, but the pressure behind them didn’t subside. God, her problem had to be cold feet. It had her fixating on another man, a man who didn’t figure into her ordered life or her carefully laid-out future plans.

  Yeah, that was definitely it. Her feet were encased in blocks of ice, and she needed to get over it and get beyond the Harris sibling curse, the one put on her and her sibs because no one could top their parents’ years of happy marriage. Why get married at all? Why try when you’re destined for failure?

  For a woman who’d spent her entire life second or third at everything, stuck in the middle of the family hierarchy, just one time, Estie wanted to be first at something. This wedding would do it. She’d be the first Harris sibling with the guts to say, “I do.” Once she succumbed, the next two would follow along with a passel of kids and animals and—

  They’d all retire to the Harris estate in Washington’s San Juan Islands and live happily ever after?

  Who the fuck was she kidding?

  A powerful car engine rumbled in the distance, and she peeked out the window. Brett’s large SUV rumbled down the long driveway to her little home. Unbidden, a smile spread across her face and anticipation lifted the gloom. Okay, so she might be harboring a harmless little crush on the Steelheads’ backup quarterback to go with her cold feet. So what? She was entitled to look, even fantasize. She’d never take it further. Not her. Nuh-uh.

  Estie rushed to the door and opened it wide, standing on the porch as Brett got out of his car. She hurried down the steps to greet him.

  “Hi,” she said, sounding way too breathless and excited.

  He gave her a shy smile. “Hi.”

  Estie looked past him through the tinted windows of the blue SUV, the same blue as the Steelheads’ uniforms. “Oh, you brought a dog?”

  “Yeah, that’s Risky. He loves to go for rides, so I take him when I can. Besides, my cat beats up on him.”

  Estie laughed. “Risky? There must be a story there.”

  “There is. To make it short and sweet, I took a big risk rescuing him, but it paid off.”

  Estie started to ask more, but the guarded expression in his pale-blue eyes stopped her. “Does he get along with other dogs?”

  “Yeah, sure. He’s pretty passive.”

  “Let him out then. Unless he’ll run off.”

  “He won’t run off. He doesn’t leave my side. He’s scared of strangers, but I’m sure he’d like to get out.”

  Just then, Dozer bounded down her front steps followed more leisurely by Marilyn, butt swaying like her namesake, ball firmly clutched in her mouth. Brett knelt down and let Dozer barrel into him, covering him with sloppy dog kisses. Brett just laughed and hugged the dog.

  “He’s wonderful. What’s his name?”

  “Dozer, as in Bulldozer.”

  “It fits.” Chuckling, Brett stood and wiped his face off with the bottom of his sweatshirt. Estie’s gaze dropped to the man’s washboard abs, and she swallowed. Dang. He was gorgeous with the kind of muscles a guy gets from hard work, not just in a gym.

  Marilyn sauntered up, and Brett stroked the top of her head. The golden leaned against his legs and stared up at him as if he were Joe DiMaggio. The ball dropped from her mouth, unnoticed.

  “Hey, old girl, how are you?” Brett scratched under her graying chin.

  “That
’s Marilyn.”

  Brett raised one eyebrow. “Marilyn. As in Monroe.”

  “You guessed it. Tyler named her.”

  “Sounds like a name Tyler would pick.”

  “It so is.” Estie gestured toward the SUV. “Would you like to let Risky out? I can put the kids in the backyard so they don’t overwhelm him.”

  “Sounds good.” His lopsided smile had her heart beating against her chest.

  Estie herded her dogs into the backyard then returned and waited as Brett carefully opened the door to the SUV and a wiry German shepherd cross slinked out the back door. He cowered on the ground, his body plastered against Brett’s legs. Estie’s mouth dropped opened when she noticed the poor thing had no ears or tail. She lifted her gaze to meet those pale-blue eyes that hid so much yet said it all.

  Brett knelt down next to the shaking dog and stroked his fur with a gentle touch. “I found him tied up with a three-foot chain in Afghanistan, starving and with no water. They cut off his tail and ears to use him for dog fighting. I couldn’t—couldn’t tolerate those images in my mind. I’d lost one companion and friend; I needed to save this one. I traded him for cigarettes, took him to the base, and he stayed there until I was shipped to the States. Puppies for Soldiers raised the money to transport him to the US. He’s been with me ever since.”

  “You rescued him from his fate.” She didn’t ask about the ones he’d lost, time for that later—if there was a later for them.

  Brett nodded and looked away, but not before she thought she caught the gleam of a tear in his eye. She fought the urge to throw her arms around him and absorb as much of his pain as humanly possible.

  “Risky, you’re a good boy.” Estie knelt down next to the shaking pup, careful not to make any sudden or threatening moves. Instead, she waited for him to approach, even as her heart bled for all he’d been through.

  Risky wagged his stump of a tail and won Estie over with that one little action.

  “He wants to be friends, but he’s just never gotten over the trauma of the abuse he suffered as a young dog.”

  Estie patted her thigh, and Risky shook his tail again. Waiting patiently, she talked in soft, gentle tones. Inch by inch, he crawled on his belly until his nose nudged her thigh. She kept talking, and he crawled forward a few more inches until he laid his head on her leg and stared up and her with soulful brown eyes. Oh, God, she’d fallen for this scared little guy as much as she’d fallen for Brett.

  She let Risky acclimate for a while, let him sniff her hand until his shaking subsided, then she ran her palm with a light touch over his wiry coat. He shuddered for a moment then quieted. It took several minutes, but finally, he crawled in her lap and licked her face. Estie glanced up to find Brett watching her with the utmost tenderness. He managed a lopsided smile, that same one that’d found a special little niche in her heart and refused to vacate the spot, even though she’d supposedly hung out the “no vacancy” sign. Seemed that Brett Gunnels had rented an empty room she didn’t know was there and filled it with his very being.

  “He never takes to someone that quickly,” Brett said in a husky whisper.

  “I have a way with animals. I always wanted to be a small animal veterinarian.” Estie met his gaze and acknowledged that kindred spirit with a sad smile.

  “Why aren’t you?” Brett looked so adorably interested, more interested than Richard ever had.

  She fought back a lump in her throat. Now there was a loaded question, and she couldn’t come up with an honest answer that made sense to anyone but her, because no one else lived her life or dealt with all the screwy expectations of her family and friends. “It’s starting to rain. Will he be okay inside?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he will be. He’s never made a mess.” They rose to their feet and Risky glommed on to Brett once again. Brett held the leash—not that the poor dog was going anywhere—and followed Estie into the house. One at a time they introduced Risky to her two dogs. He immediately rolled on his back and went into a passive role, but at least he didn’t pee all over himself and the hardwood floor.

  Finally, the dogs settled down while the cats regarded the new interloper with the disdain only a cat could show.

  Estie put the pizza in the preheated oven, tossed a salad, and poured them each a glass of good Eastern Washington wine. Brett sat down at the small breakfast bar, watching her, and in his typical quiet way, not saying much. She could feel his eyes, feel the heat of his gaze and knew he found her as attractive as she found him. God, she wanted to jump the man’s bones, run her fingernails down his breastbone, his abdomen, across his flat stomach, and on into never-never land. On the other hand, never say never.

  She couldn’t deny the chemistry. It’d been instantaneous the minute she’d opened the door that first night and stared into his pale-blue eyes, seen his uncertainty braced up by an inner strength that very few men held. Her animals adored him. Spock and Jim left the comfort of their cat bed to check him out. Brett didn’t seem to mind a bit as they rubbed orange and white cat hair on his jeans. Estie grinned even wider.

  “They really like you.”

  “I’m a cat person and a dog person.”

  “And a bird person.”

  “Not sure about birds yet.” Brett laughed, a heartwarming sound. Spock leapt into his lap, while Jim wrapped his big paws around Brett’s leg and hung on. Brett winced as Jim dug in his claws but didn’t stop petting either animal.

  “Meet Spock and Jim.”

  “You’re a Trekkie too?” Brett shook his head, as if this news was too good to be true.

  “Uh, yeah, I even love the originals. Seen them all a dozen times.”

  “Me too.”

  Lord, one more thing they had in common.

  Brett rested his chin on his hands. “So, what made you decide to go into finance? The way you love animals, I’d have thought you’d go that direction.”

  Estie shrugged one shoulder and wiped crumbs off the counter. Brett had asked the very question she’d buried deep inside since her father died. No one had ever questioned her choice of careers before. It’d just been assumed, since she had a talent for numbers and details. “I started out keeping track of my siblings and my piggy bank change, writing down every little thing. From there it went to an after-school and summer job in high school helping with the books in my dad’s firm. By the time I was eighteen, I knew I’d go into finance.”

  “I see. I’m thrifty, but not exactly dedicated at keeping records, not that I spend much money. I don’t even own a house yet, just renting from a former teammate in exchange for doing some repairs on the house.”

  “I wish I was handy like that. I mean, I can paint, mow the lawn, that type of thing, but I can’t really do home repairs or—God forbid—run a circular saw without losing fingers.”

  Brett chuckled and grabbed her right hand, most likely an impulsive gesture, but she liked it. He made a show of counting her fingers, his eyes sparkling with devilish merriment. “You’ve managed to avoid saws so far.”

  “I’m smarter than I look,” she shot back and laughed.

  “I think you look plenty smart.” He didn’t let go of her hand but held it loosely in his calloused one. He had surprisingly big hands for a guy his height—hands as big as Tyler’s, and Tyler was six foot four. She could’ve pulled her hand away, could’ve done the smart thing and kept her distance. She didn’t. Their gazes locked, and there it went again—that thing that stopped the world from spinning, her heart from beating, and her brain from thinking.

  The very thing she’d chalked up to overactive hormones or wedding cold feet.

  And that thing made her want to take his face in her hands and kiss the hell out of him until they were both giddy and reeling from heady emotions and intense chemistry. Only that wouldn’t be enough. She wanted more. A lot more.

  Look away. Look away now. Before you do something you shouldn’t do.

  She didn’t look away, but Brett did the honorable thing and broke e
ye contact and let go of her hand.

  Flustered, Estie pushed away from the counter and opened the oven door. Thank God she hadn’t burned dinner. She busied herself slicing the pizza while she calmed her pounding heart and caught her breath. Her hand still tingled from the touch of his fingers.

  Brett said nothing as soft jazz music floated around them. He glanced down when Marilyn sidled up to him and put her head on his lap. Brett patted her and a soft smile turned up his lips at the corners. “Hey, gorgeous, where’ve you been all my life?” Marilyn gave him her baby browns and leaned against him, her doggy version of a come-on. Brett grinned down at her, as smitten with Marilyn as Marilyn was with him.

  “Watch it, she’s a charmer. She’ll wrap you around those paws, and you’ll be feeding her dog biscuits for life.”

  Brett looked up, his expression unreadable, except for that ever-present hint of underlying sadness. “I’d like that.”

  Estie ducked her head and turned away. She put a couple slices of pizza on two plates and slid them across the counter. Brett washed his hands at the kitchen sink, joining her at the counter. They munched in silence, while Marilyn, Risky, and Dozer panted in the background. Spock and Jim sat on opposite arms of the couch, tails switching.

  It was a weirdly romantic scene for two people dedicated to the animals they loved. If only Estie could capture this moment and stuff it in a locket to keep close to her heart.

  Brett chewed on the pizza and stared at the kitchen cabinets for the lack of anything else to stare at besides Estie. He felt her next to him as strongly as if she were touching him. Her sweet perfume floated around him, teasing his nostrils. He glanced at Risky, who was lined up next to Marilyn and Dozer as they all sat on their haunches waiting for a crumb to fall. Risky appeared fully aware of the competition on either side of him, yet still hopeful.

  He watched as she aligned her napkin, fork, and plate and almost smiled. He found her little habits oddly endearing.

  Brett stood and poured himself more wine and snatched a few more pieces of pizza, taking his seat once again, hyperaware of every move Estie made, every breath she took—even the sounds of her chewing on pizza aroused him.