Can't Touch This (Can't Touch This #1)

I hugged little Pikachu. “Shit, buddy, did you hear that? She’s refusing you basic medical care. I think we should report her.”

Her forehead furrowed. “I didn’t mean I wouldn’t touch him.” She waved her hand in the dog’s direction and then dropped to my cock. “Just not that hot dog in your pants you keep referring to.”

“Hot dog?” I grinned. “I’d say it’s more like a giant salami.”

She groaned. “You have no shame. Literally, no shame.”

“Glad you’ve learned something about me. I was beginning to think I was wasting my time.”

She shook her head. “I can’t work under these conditions.”

“Do you need a back massage?” I hoisted Pikachu under one arm, reaching for her shoulders. “I can do things with my fingers that guarantee to relax.”

She stepped backward. “Oh no, let’s just stay focused, shall we?”

“On the date? Good idea.” I cleared my throat, doing my best smouldering invitation. “Give me an answer. Go to dinner with me.”

CHAPTER THREE

———————

Vesper

DID HE REALLY JUST ASK me out?

For the third time?

What the hell sort of date request was that? This was serious. He was here for the starved little creature in his arms. Not for his selfish needs.

Ugh, men.

This was why I didn’t date. I didn’t understand them, and I had no time for things I didn’t understand. I had important work to do—such as saving the lives of dogs and cats, rabbits and birds.

I didn’t need a man moaning about my long hours or the stink of urine on my clothes from panicked puppies when I came home.

No way.

Not for me.

“Let’s just do what you’re here for, shall we?” I swiped back a runaway curl and grabbed a fresh towel from the stack we kept in the corner. “Everything else isn’t important.”

Not looking at him, I spread the towel over the stainless-steel table and waited until Ryder placed the trembling wiener onto it.

I’d had a cat all my life and whenever she needed to visit a vet, the most stressful thing was trying to grip the slippery steel—unable to get good purchase while a stranger stuck fingers where they didn’t belong.

I refused to let the animals I cared for go through such panic. The laundry of towels was a small price to pay for the animals who could sit calmly and have a stable foundation to face their worst nightmares.

Ryder Carson stood too close, but I didn’t berate him. His hazel eyes hinted that he hadn’t forgotten about a date, but he was worried enough about the dog to let it go.

For now.

Without saying a word, he suddenly pushed off the table and headed toward the door where Amanda’s voice trickled inside from another patient’s arrival.

The soft click of the lock made my heart pound.

It was common practice to close the door.

We needed privacy to talk about delicate matters relating to the pet in question.