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

“Things?”

His crooked teeth flashed in a shit-eating grin. “Yep. She agreed to a sixty-nine. Been married six years and never once did she drop the prude until last night.” He nudged my shoulder with his. “Might have to roofie her next time—see if I can get her to unlock the back door, if you know what I mean.”

I groaned. “And this is why women have such bad opinions of us.”

“Hey, I married her. I love her. She loves me. Technically, she roofies me all the time with her apple cobblers and cherry pies. She puts me into a food coma. The least I can do is put her into a sex one.”

I shook my head. “Well, if the cops come calling, I don’t know you.”

Stopping in the entry way, my neck ached as I looked upward. “Goddammit, there’s another leak up there.” When I first bought this place, the roof had completely caved in. We’d only just started repairing it last month and had a fair bit to go. Thanks to a quick downpour last night, an area that hadn’t been sealed correctly showed dampness.

“Oh yeah, I saw that too. Got one of the boys on it already.”

“Okay, cheers.” Moving toward the circular walls that looked grand and expensive, but were a bitch to plaster, I touched the gib. “Still a bit wet but with the roof keeping them dry, it won’t take long until we can get started on replacing the floor and begin interior painting.”

“Already pencilled in the oak flooring for delivery.” David puffed out his chest, looking like a lumberjack in his plaid shorts and white wife-beater. Sweat dotted his upper lip.

It was bloody hot already.

What was I thinking putting on jeans?

I needed some air and space and knew exactly where to get it. Cracking my knuckles, I said, “Tell you what, you get started on the south side today. I’ll get my abseiling gear on and tackle the front porch roof. Deal?”

David nodded. “Sure thing, I’ll ask Simon—”

The sound of an obnoxious rap song I rather liked (liked enough to make it my phone ring) cut him off.

“Whoops, sorry.” Snatching the phone from my pocket, I pressed accept and held the vibrating thing to my ear. “Ryder.”

“Hello, Mr. Carson, I hope I’m not disturbing you this early, but we’ve just accepted a call that requires urgent help and no one is prepared to make the long journey.”

My smile stretched as warmth filled me. I always got this feeling whenever I was asked to help. I called it the karma blanket. But it was just gratefulness, knowing what I was about to do would change a creature’s life and there was no better thing than that.

The house could wait.

This could not.

“You’re not disturbing me at all.”

David rolled his eyes, knowing full well I wouldn’t be on the job site today.

The local shelter had me on speed dial now. It hadn’t always been the case. The first few times I’d rescued a stray or found a lost dog without its tags, I’d been treated as a wanna-be-hero with no belief of my genuine need to help these poor critters.

However, after more visits and volunteering with feeding and doing a few odd jobs around the shelter, I was put on an honouree list of sponsors.

Not only did I take every animal off their hands that were on death row—I also rehoused them on my estate, set up a website that advertised pets to forever families, offered guarantees and return policies, and flew the lovable creatures all around the country to new homes.

I used the endless wealth I’d been given to help those who were reliant on humans to protect them.

“So, you’ll go?” The woman’s voice wavered with hope.

“Of course, I’ll go. What’s the address and what am I collecting?”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing of you—” She paused. “Wait, are—are you sure? I know you dealt with a rescue yesterday. I can get someone—”

“Don’t. I’m happy to. Truly. Now, cough up the details.”

The girl (I vaguely remembered her name was Cora from meeting her last month), said, “It’s about a four-hour drive. I can’t stand the thought of them in that monster’s care anymore. The sooner you can collect them, the better.”