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

“I know…I don’t, ugh. It’s just…you and Ryder seem more…organic. I guess.”

“Organic?”

She sighed heavily. “I’m not making any sense.”

“You’re not, I agree. Was it because you had such a great day off you’re relaxed and not ready to work tomorrow?”

Polly growled. “Unlike some of us who were busy having sexy naked time, I was cleaning my house, spending a fortune at the supermarket, and running errands that I can’t do any other day. I’m exhausted, Ves. I need someone to pour me wine, massage my back, and then give me an orgasm with his talented man wand.”

I laughed. “Well, cease your pity party and go find one.”

“Did I mention I don’t like smugness on you? I might have to tear up our friendship agreement.”

I grinned. She would never do such a thing. We were stuck with each other for life.

That’s a point.

Polly was my other half—the one person I spent most waking hours with. Ryder was fast becoming the other most important part of my life. Therefore, they would have to get on. They needed to like each other if I ever hoped to have him as my partner.

Deciding to begin ‘get Polly to adore Ryder for my sake’ operation, I said, “Do you know why I was at his house at one a.m. the other morning?”

“Because he dipped his ‘you can touch this’ stick in sherbet and called you over to lick it off?”

“No, but that’s not a bad idea.” I sat up, hugging a pillow as Visa strutted her stuff on the end of the bed. “He’d rescued a Pusky Bull from a dog fighting ring. Poor thing was scarred and terrified. But he made him a grotto complete with toys and food. He even wheelbarrowed him to the river to spend the day with us swimming, and tucked him back into bed when we got home.”

“Whoa, hold up. Wheelbarrowed? Is this a new sex position I’m missing out on?”

“I think there is a sex thing about a wheelbarrow, now you mention it. But no, I mean the dog was literally in the wheelbarrow.”

“Wow.”

“I know. Once we’d finished swimming, he asked me to show him how to change the bandages and give the dog his medicine so he could stay on top of his care while I came to work.” My heart fluttered. “He’s truly one of a kind, Pol.”

“Oh, no…”

“Oh no, what?” I sat up straighter. “You okay?”

“I’m okay. But are you okay? That smugness has just morphed into sappy wonderment. Don’t tell me you touched it and now you’re in love with it that fast? What did he do? Drug you?”

Worse, he took me on my hands and knees and showed me just what it means to let go.

“Don’t be absurd. I just appreciate kind people looking after mistreated animals, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?”

“That’s all.”

“So it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that whenever you mention his name you float away like a lovesick unicorn balloon-animal?”

“I’m not a damn balloon-animal.”

“Prove it. What did he do when it was time for you to leave last night?”

My mind skipped despite myself to the excruciatingly hard goodbye. After spending all morning at the river, we’d returned to the house where Ryder handed out dog kibble and treats before making us a rustic style fish and chips with trout he’d caught upriver a few days ago. We’d eaten on the deck while Scar chewed on some jerky and the cutest potbelly pig arrived to investigate our scraps.

The way Ryder looked at little Hippo as he introduced me had taken what was left of my heart and made it completely his. He’d hoisted the little pink and black pig into his arms and given her kisses on her snuffling snout before treating her to a crust of bread from his plate.

I’d heard of people having pigs as pets—supposedly they were cleaner and smarter than dogs—but I hadn’t had the privilege of meeting one.