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

Corn and Chip had returned home with me, and found company in the luxury kennel I’d built with their own beds, lots of food, and space to run while I started the process of tracking down a forever home.

I still had to bring them back for a more in-depth check-up once Vesper was feeling better. But for now, the puppies were safe, Vesper was healing, and I had a crap load of work to do such as helping my building team tackle a few more areas of my dilapidated home.

The morning trickled into afternoon and by two p.m., I couldn’t stop myself reaching for my phone and dialling Tales of Tails. I needed to hear her—just for a second. Perhaps then my attention span could focus on plastering rather than a half-naked Vesper in a towel.

“Hello, Tales of Tails. Amanda speaking.”

Shit, I forgot about her.

“Hi. Is Ms. Fairfax in?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Not today. She’s sick. However, Ms. Dartford is the vet in charge and can assist you. What seems to be the problem?”

I pinched the brow of my nose. “You know what, don’t disturb Ms. Dartford. I’m a friend of Ms. Fairfax’s and just need a quick word. You don’t have her cell phone number, do you?”

“I’m not really supposed to give out—”

“I know it’s a little unorthodox but—”

Amanda cleared her throat. “Let me transfer you to Polly.”

“No, wait it’s oka—”

Hold music.

Great.

“Hello, Polly speaking. Do you have an animal emergency?”

I groaned. “No, sorry to disturb you. It’s Ryder Carson calling. I just wanted to find out how Vesper is doing.”

“Vesper, huh?” Polly chuckled. “On a first-name basis now, are you?”

I tensed. “Look, forget it. Can you just tell her I called? Be nice if she let me know if she’s feeling any better and needs anymore soup.” Deciding to push my luck, I added, “Or another bath.”

A sharp intake of breath. “You took her home last night.”

I stayed silent, grinning.

Polly whistled. “Whoa, that’s impressive.”

What was I supposed to say to that? “Um, thank you?”

“Okay, here’s the deal.” Polly’s voice slipped to a more friendly tone. “Answer me three questions, and I’ll give you her phone number and you can ask her yourself.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “What three questions?”

“Number one, do you have pure or impure thoughts about my bestie? Number two, are you a sleaze bag cheater who will just break her heart? And three, are you a serial killer or any other skeletons in your creepy closet?”

I laughed. “Is this like an interview to date your best friend?”

“Oh wow, you want to date her?” She whistled again. “This is serious. Now I really need the answers to those questions.”

I sighed. “And how will I know if I pass or not?”

“You pass, you get her digits. You don’t, and I have a Rottweiler here waking up from surgery and know just where to send him if he feels like tearing someone a new asshole.”

I laughed again. “Okay, okay. You win. Three questions, huh?” I frowned. “Number one, I have both pure and impure—I’m talking angel to downright filthy thoughts—about Vesper. Two, I’ve never cheated on anyone and have no intentions of starting. Three, I’m not a murderer. Yet. I can’t promise I never will be, but I’d only kill the bastards who hurt defenceless animals.”