by Taryn Quinn
“Hey, buddy.” I dug out my phone and turned on the torch light.
The little bundle of fur scrabbled back, and the wet cardboard box collapsed around him. Frightened, he—it—tried to get its face free, but its little mouth was tied shut by a piece of dirty clothesline rope.
“What the fuck?”
“Language!” Kimmie shouted from the deck.
I ignored her and crouched lower. My shoulders wouldn’t fit under the small space. Branches snapped and a thorn sliced along my neck. My fingers were shaking with anger, but I kept shoving my way in. I blew out a slow breath and forced my voice to gentle. I fisted my fingers for a moment to get them to stop shaking. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Humans were pieces of shit. How long had the little dog been tied under there? The cardboard box was degrading in the perpetual wet of fall. The dog was filthy. Last night had been cold as hell, and the ground was boggy with moisture.
I tried not to flash the light in his eyes, but I needed it to see. The rope had dug into his fur, and his eyes were fierce and fearful. I gentled my voice and flattened myself on the ground. Dirt, leaves, and God knows what else stuck to my beard. I spit it out and sent up a silent prayer it wasn’t shit.
The little guy flinched. Slowly, I reached under the mangled bush to get closer. The rope was tied to the trunk so the small dog couldn’t get away.
Whomever had tied the dog here had left it to die.
My muscles locked with anger, but I forced my voice to stay soothing. The little guy seemed to know I was upset and couldn’t decide if I was friend or foe. Finally, I got to his tiny foot and I lightly stroked it with one finger. The dog was shuddering, but couldn’t pant since its poor mouth was tied shut.
“Everything okay?”
My skin prickled at the sound of her voice. Now was not the time for that, but my dick had an auto-response to this woman. All hard, all the time.
“Someone tied a little dog to the underbrush.”
“What?” She pressed her hand to my lower back and crouched down beside me. “You’re kidding.”
She smelled spicy. Like cinnamon and leather and fabric softener all wrapped up in a sexy package. I hadn’t been this close to her before. Then her hair slid along my shoulder and my dick decided muddy leaves were a just fine spot for a seduction. “Nope. Hey, it’s pretty gross down here. Dirty and—”
“I’m a mechanic and metal worker, Thor. I can handle some mud.”
I twisted my shoulder enough to get a look at her. “Goddamn, you are so hot.”
She rolled her eyes. “Dog?”
“Right. Sorry.” I inched to the side to give her some room and the little dog jumped, then tried to scrabble back, but he was out of options.
“Careful.”
“I know,” I growled. “He’s tied.”
“How do you know it’s a he?”
Exasperation dented my lust haze. “I’ll let you know when I get it untied, how’s that?”
“Touchy.”
I could not get any closer to the little guy. I winced as thorns dug into my arm.
She let out an exasperated huff. “Can I help? My arms are skinnier.”
“Not in that jacket, they aren’t.”
“I can take it off.” She dropped onto her hip on the ground beside me.
“I think I’m good. Can you get my knife out of my holster?”
“Holster? Seriously?”
I tried to relax as the pup shook uncontrollably. “It’s sharp. Would you rather I sliced open my leg every time I bent down?”
“Good point.” Her long fingers slid along my belt then grazed my skin. “Where the hell is it?”
“Other side.” My voice lowered and I focused on the little dude in front of me, not the fact that my dream woman was in my space for the first time.
She grunted and leaned over me. Her scent was gonna end me. I wanted it all over my skin. And then there was her hair. It was dripping all over my shoulders and tickling my sides. Her fingernails skimmed over my lower belly and I nearly groaned.
“You’re killing me here.”
“I can’t find the snap. There it is. Oh…” She cleared her throat. “I got it.”
She tried not to touch me, but our closeness made that impossible. Her curtain of glorious, soft, fistable hair draped over me. I really wanted to revisit this scenario very soon.
Preferably without our clothes and the mud. Though that might work in an entirely different fantasy…
Focus on the trapped dog, Roberts.
She finally collapsed next to me. “Okay, got it.”
She nearly sliced my arm, but my quick reflexes left leaves as the only fatality.“Watch it.”
“Kinda a cramped situation here.”
“Yeah. More cramped for this little guy.” I hacked at the branches to make more space. “So what are you doing here anyway?”
She leaned against me to see what I was doing. “You should cut over there.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
“Dick.”
“Language,” I mumbled.
“You too?”
I grunted and broke off another branch. “Kimmie is a drill sergeant.”
“I’m getting that.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Why are you down here in the mud with me?” I hissed as a thorn sunk into the side of my hand. “Bastard.”
“Language.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
Her immediate reply made me turn toward her. “Sexiest woman in the Cove and watches Supernatural? We should get married.”
“Not in this lifetime.”
I grinned and went back to work. “Did you come here looking for me? Or are you friends with the mom squad?”
“Dear God, no.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Are you finally calling in your chip?”
“Yes. I talked to Gideon, and he told me where to find you.”
“I’ll have to buy him a case of beer.”
“He says you owed him money.”
The other guys on Gideon’s crew were tired of me winning at poker and had gotten me shitfaced at the last guys’ night. They couldn’t handle my natural aptitude. “Fucking cheaters.”
“Language!” Came a chorus of voices just behind us.
I turned to look at Tish and her face was way too close to mine. More of that cinnamon goodness came from her dark red mouth. Her deep brown eyes were intense and damn if they didn’t dilate a bit. Maybe it truly wasn’t one-sided on this attraction thing after all.
The dog let out a pathetic growl, dragging me back to the reason I was laying facedown in the mud. I flicked my very sharp knife through the cord tied to the trunk and dragged the little guy close enough for me to scoop up before he could disappear into the thornier tangle of brush.
I lowered my voice to a rumbly whisper. “Hey, there. You’re okay now.”
“What’s going on?”
I glanced over my shoulder to find Kimmie and the herd of moms hovering just behind the pink line in the grass. Abby was practically vibrating with the need to get closer.
I wiggled out from the mud onto my knees. “It’s okay. Someone tied a poor dog to one of the bushes.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Who could do that?”
“I’m going to make flyers to find its owner!”
The women were ready to be suburban warriors for the dog, but I was pretty sure no one would be looking to collect the shaking bit of muddy fluff.
I caught Abby’s eye. “Could you go get me a towel?”
The little girl’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she nodded excitedly and took off.
I turned to help up Tish, but she was already on her feet, brushing debris off her leather motorcycle pants. She paid special attention to her hips and ass, which made my tongue about two sizes too big for my mouth. For once in my life, I opted for silence.
I str
uggled to my feet, cradling the dog in the crook of my arm. Tish gripped my upper arm to balance me, her short black nails digging into my skin. Our gazes collided before hers slid away, and she took two big steps back.
Abby came running back with a huge beach towel in her hand imprinted with a grinning Harry Styles.
“Your sister is going to kill you,” Kimmie said with a sigh.
Abby shrugged and held up her phone, video obviously engaged. “Harry will save the puppy. Melly can put it on TikTok later.”
I should have thought of that, but the animal was way more important than a viral video. Even though I was pretty sure this would definitely provide a million clicks minimum.
I took the towel and wrapped it around the shaking dog. He was matted with mud and leaves and I didn’t even want to think about the fleas or insects. The tiny dog burrowed into the crook of my arm and rested its tiny snoot on my forearm.
“Sweet baby,” Tish cooed.
My eyebrow rose.
“What?” She wrinkled her nose.
“Nothing.”
She crossed her arms over her spectacular chest. “Animals are better than people nine times out of ten.”
“Can’t fault you there.” I tucked the blanket more securely around the little bundle of near bones. “I want to get this rope off his mouth.”
She chewed on the corner of her lower lip. “Maybe we should take him to the vet. It looks pretty dug in there.”
I frowned. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“The clinic isn’t too far away.”
I gave her another arched eyebrow.
“What? I have a cat. They were nice to me. The vet there is super capable. Hot too.”
My jaw clenched.
Her lips twitched. “Anyway, I guess we should bring in the dog.”
“You’re coming with me?”
The ladies were watching our conversation as if we were the Wimbledon playoffs, their gazes bouncing back and forth between us.
She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets. “Well, you need someone to hold him, right? Or I can drive and you can hold him—her. Whatever.”
I dug my keys out of my pocket and tossed them to her. She had quick reflexes—even snatched the keychain out of the air without a fumble. “Since you know where the clinic is, I guess you’re up. Unless you can’t drive stick.”
“I’ve been driving stick since I was eleven.” She grabbed my shirt off the cart and handed it to me. “Let’s just go.”
“Need me to cover up?”
Her dark eyes went shark flat. “No. You’re a muddy mess, jerk. I’m saving your upholstery.”
“Right.” I wasn’t sure why her smart mouth made her even more attractive to me. I did have a twisted side when it came to strong women.
She stalked away from me, her exceptional ass swinging with each long stride.
“I’m probably going to marry her.” I wasn’t sure why that flew out of my mouth again. I definitely wasn’t going to marry her. I did want to get under those leather pants though.
The new blond that joined the party clutched her hands together under her chin. “It’s like a book I just read.”
The dog snuggled into the towel and stopped shaking for the first time. My heart did a little somersault. I stroked his little nose, careful not to touch anything that was bleeding. “So, did it have any juicy parts?”
The blond nodded and smiled. “Lots of them.”
“You chicks always get the good books.”
“You should try romance novels. They might even make you blush, Mr. Handyman.”
I laughed as I swayed with the small bundle in my arms. “Name’s Lucky.”
“Bethany.” She reached out and touched my arm, then snatched her hand back. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into me. I’ve never seen an arm so muscled in real life.”
I flexed a little. “Want another feel?”
She curled her fingers into her hand. “No. Well, maybe just one.” She squeezed my biceps and gave a twittering laugh. “Wow.”
“Move it, Thor!”
My gaze tracked to the gate I’d finished putting in yesterday. Tish held her head high and her warrior princess hair whipped on the breeze. I took another moment to admire her head to toe leather with a red racing stripe down one arm and leg.
Damn, what a woman. Maybe I would be marrying her.
Four
How the hell I’d ended up driving Lucky’s battered Ford truck into Kensington Square, I did not know.
Okay, so the pathetic dog had hit me in a weak spot. His face—and Thor’s face as he worried over the tiny ball of dirty fur—were too much to handle.
I did not have any defenses against animals. Especially hurt ones.
Thor cooed over the little dog in his lap. He kept stroking its small head, telling him how brave he was. I didn’t quite have the heart to tell him I didn’t see any itty bitty doggy twig and berries when he pulled it out of the mud.
Then again, there had been a lot of mud.
The little dog preened, even with its poor nose all crusty with blood and dirt. The tiny tail stuck out of the towel and wagged with each rumbling tumble of Lucky’s stream of conscious conversation.
“I think I should call him Butch.”
“Butch? Dear God, why?”
“Well, he’s—”
“Might be a she.”
Lucky hunched his shoulders protectively. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. The little guy is Butch. Look how brave you are.” Lucky lowered his nose to the dog’s. “You’re a brave little guy, aren’t you?”
The dog was a maximum of six pounds—mostly fur.
“Couldn’t find a better name for him or her? Like Athena the warrior dog? Or how about Xena?”
He picked up the dog, towel and all, to look at it in the eye. “Nah. Butch.”
I rolled my eyes and downshifted as we came to a light. Kensington Square wasn’t far from suburbia nation. The clinic was barely out of the Cove and with the boom of families, it did very well, good enough to be open around the clock. It was almost noon and I had a bad feeling we’d be doing a whole lot of waiting to be seen.
Based on the dog’s situation, I imagined we’d be doing a whole lot of paying too. Not that it mattered. Animals would always win out when it came to my wallet.
“Just a few more minutes.”
Lucky snuggled the dog up against his chest. “Getting cold, little buddy? Should I boost the heat?”
“It might be a bit gross, but if you put him against your skin, he’ll—” Now he had me calling it a him. “It will warm up.”
Lucky grinned at me. “Even you think he’s a little dude.” Without hesitation, he tucked the dog into his tank top.
“I hope it doesn’t have fleas.”
Lucky stilled, then shrugged. “Guess we’ll both get a flea dip, hey?”
My lips twitched, but I managed not to smile.
Lucky gave me some side-eye. “I almost saw a smile.”
“You did not.”
“I did.” He snuggled down in the seat and inched him over to the middle of his chest. “She likes you, buddy.” He lowered his voice. “Think she likes me too.”
“No.”
Lucky snorted.
I shrugged. “The dog, maybe.”
He crossed his legs at the ankle. “Then why were you at my worksite?”
“You know why.”
“You could have texted.”
“I didn’t have your number. And I wanted to explain the expedited situation.”
“Expedited situation?” One bleached brow rose, and there was an intriguing scar through the arch.
Focus, Burns. There was nothing intriguing about this guy.
“Sounds interesting,” he added when I remained silent.
He laced his long fingers together over his little bundle. The smudge of mud striping his cheek was not cute, dammit.
I gritted my teeth together. I would not be swayed by a hot guy with
a dog. Nope, not at all. Ever.
Keeping my gaze straight ahead, I turned off the dirt road that always snuck up on me. The clinic was a converted farm with a ton of land, but it was rather remote. A horse was grazing in the fenced off area to the side of the building, his ragged tail twitching happily. Maverick was a rescue from a shitty owner, and the vet, Grant Thorn, had nursed him back to health.
I knew that because when I’d nearly killed Dusty—since the stupid cat loved to lay in the middle of the damn road, and I’d clipped his tail swerving away so I didn’t kill him—the vet had been unloading the horse when I rolled up in a panic. Now I was the proud owner of a cat with a slightly crooked tail, and it looked like Maverick was living his best life.
I downshifted to gently roll over the tire ruts from the last good rain. Dirt became gravel the closer we got to the large horse stables. A little girl with a lopsided ponytail was chasing a tripod dog around the opening of one of the bays.
Someone must have been looking out for us since there were only a handful of cars in the parking lot. I parked and the little girl came running over to us.
Penny? P…something.
“Hey, Miss Dusty. Everything okay with your cat?”
Lucky stepped down from the truck.
Priscilla? No…she was a flower name. Poppy! “Hi, Poppy. Dusty is doing really well, but my friend’s dog not so much.”
“Oh, no.” Her huge eyes glittered with tears immediately. She rushed to Lucky, showing absolutely no fear toward the six-foot-four long-haired stranger.
I should probably talk to her dad about that.
Lucky crouched down to the kid’s level. “Are you the vet?”
The little girl’s tears dissolved away with a giggle. “No. I’m not big enough yet. Someday though. I’m gonna be just like my daddy.”
“I’m sure he’ll be proud. Think you could find your dad for me? My friend here could use some help.” Butch peeked out from the side of his shirt, the end of the rusty red rope frayed from Lucky’s knife.
“Oh, no.” Poppy’s eyes went fierce. “You didn’t tie his mouth shut, did you? We don’t use those kinds of muzzles, sir!”
“No. Not at all. We found him like this. It looks really painful though. We want to get him all fixed up.”