It was strange how we knew so little about each other, yet our connection already felt as deep and wide as the Mississippi. Tension and interest crackled between us, just out of reach.
“I’m the new part-time assistant at the animal shelter across town. The pay isn’t great and the hours kind of suck, but I enjoy it.”
The cheery tone in my voice disguised my disenchantment. I loved animals, and I was happy to have a job there, but the ten dollars an hour and facility that constantly smelled of poop was a far cry from my previous life.
I’d graduated with a degree in finance last year and landed at a great firm straight out of school, making good money. I’d worn designer suits, treated myself to pedicures and silky lingerie, escaped winter’s doldrums with extravagant beach vacations. I’d dreamed of working my way up to finance manager. But all that was on hold for the time being.
It was just money, I reminded myself. I had everything I needed to live, and no more.
“An animal lover?” he asked.
“Guilty,” I said, smiling.
Nolan shook his head, chuckling. “I’m not allowed back in that place.” At my confused expression, he continued. “It’s more of a self-imposed ban. I adopted Sutton two years ago, but could have easily left with as many dogs and cats as would have fit into my truck.”
I knew just what he meant. All the animals there deserved a good home. “And what’s Sutton like?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“He’s an English bulldog. Ornery as shit, missing a few teeth, and he has a bad hip, but he’s mine.”
I warmed at the image. So far, Nolan had been anything but what I was expecting. A bit presumptuous and rough around the edges, lacking the discipline I might have expected from an ex-SEAL. By his own account, he was living life according to his brain’s pleasure center. Women. Whiskey. And apparently a penchant for bulldogs. That last thought made me smile.
“What do you like to do in your free time?” he asked, drawing me back to the moment.
I shrugged. “Nothing too crazy. Decorating my place with unique flea-market finds . . . silk throw pillows, pretty black and white prints. I enjoy hunting out forgotten treasures like that. Oh, and I love college football. I went to Oklahoma, so . . .” I hid a smirk, knowing their huge rivalry with Texas.
He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Don’t tell me you’re a Sooners fan?”
I grinned back at him. It was too easy. “You think I’m going to automatically root for the Longhorns just because I moved to Texas?”
“No, I’d expect you to root for them because they’re the best damn team in the country.”
That made me chuckle. I knew what people saw when they looked at me. A fresh face with only minimal makeup, a long chocolate-colored braid hanging over one shoulder, a pair of faded jeans, a conservative cotton top that didn’t show even a hint of cleavage. He probably had me pegged as a stereotypical good girl.
Something inside me wanted to prove him wrong, to show him I was not only okay with his situation, but open and curious. Prove to him that whatever he could dish out, I could take it.
Still, I couldn’t blame him for how I must have seemed. My entire appearance screamed innocence and propriety. It was the way I’d been raised. As the only child of a single, very old-fashioned father, modesty had been drilled into me from a young age, and there was nothing I could do to change it now. Which was fine.
This was the way I was most comfortable anyhow, and it had never stopped me from attracting male attention before. But as I glanced around at the women in the bar, with their low-cut sequined tops and sling-back heels, I realized Nolan could have his pick of the litter. And there were clearly more enticing choices than me, yet his eyes didn’t wander, his gaze didn’t stray from mine even once. It sent a warm ripple of pleasure down my spine.
“Maybe we’ll catch a game sometime,” he offered. His voice was low and laced with suggestion.
“Maybe we will.” I lowered my gaze to my salt-rimmed glass on the table, wondering exactly what might unfold with this mystery man in the coming weeks.
From his broad shoulders to his don’t fuck with me or mine attitude, everything about him screamed protector. I had grown up idolizing my father, thinking that his defining traits—stoic, dutiful, protective, dominant—were what made the perfect man.
Seeing those same qualities in Nolan lit something inside me. It was more than admiration, if the sudden pounding of my heart was any indication. Raw heat radiated between us. His conversation might have been casual, but the amusement in his eyes as he watched me was provocative and sexual. My body answered with a hearty hell yeah, my panties dampening as I shifted in my seat.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Nolan reached for my hand, and I placed my palm against his in silent agreement.
Common sense flying out the window, I was going to ride this wave and see where it took me.
Chapter Three