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

As afternoon turned to dusk, and the dogs were semi cleaned the best we could with towels and given their dinner, we returned to his work-in-progress-lounge and turned on the TV. I didn’t think either of us watched it as the moment he opened his arms for me to slot against his side, all I could think about was his touch on my skin, his heart matching my rhythm, and the awful, awful knowledge that I would have to go soon.

And when it came time to escort me to my car, the way he clutched my hand told me everything I needed to know.

Ryder Carson—caring rescuer, perpetual renovator, and insanely talented sex god—didn’t want me to go.

He wanted me to stay.

I just didn’t know for how long.

Or how quick I was prepared for this relationship to escalate.

His kiss goodbye said everything we didn’t and the drive home was the loneliest I’d ever felt even though I was so damn happy to have met him.

It was an awful conundrum. To be obsessed with someone and miss them at the same time.

“Earth to Ves. Hello, chickadee? What sex fantasy are you reliving?”

I cleared my throat. “Sorry, not sex. Just doing what you told me to do. Remembering what he did when it was time for me to leave last night.”

“And?”

“And…it was what he didn’t say that felt the strongest.”

“Oh God, that’s it. I’ve officially lost my best friend. You’re going to replace me with him and we’re just going to be work colleagues who barely tolerate each other and then one day you’re going to want to sell your side of the practice and leave me a spinster. I’ll be all alone with useless Amanda while you go off and have puppies and kiddies and dreams made of cotton candy.”

I laughed, even though my heart hurt that she thought I could ever abandon her. “You know I would never do that to you. If for some reason you scare off the opposite sex so much, I’ll even let you share Ryder. We’ll be wives. After all, you secretly have fantasies about me. We’ve already covered that.”

The slight melancholy of the conversation switched to ridiculousness. She giggled. “I think it’s you who secretly wants me. Perhaps you need a three-way to get it out of your system, you dirty, dirty minx.”

“Ryder says I’m dirty, too.”

“Alrighty, that’s my cue to hang up.” Her tone was tired but happier, hinting it wasn’t just exhaustion from a day of chores but the past six months of running our surgery. It wasn’t a long time. But when we saved lives, euthanized lives, and acted as consoler to the owners of pets they adored, it was a freaking eternity. “You’re annoying me.”

I giggled. “You’re annoying me.”

“Well, good job we get to annoy each other in person tomorrow, isn’t it?”

My mind flitted to the operation we had scheduled for an elderly Papillon in the morning. “After the surgery tomorrow, how about we look into putting out an advert to hire someone?” I put a hand over my eyes, wondering how the hell we’d do that with our start-up debt but knowing it had to happen.

“Like who? We’d need a decent salary to tempt anyone to come to this tiny town.”

“We could just tell them there are hot men.”

“One hot man.” Polly corrected. “And you’ve taken him off the market.”

“Whatever. He’s not off the market.”

“Okay, seeing as you’re so dense. Let’s do a test. How many times has he texted you today while you were working?”

Ah, ha. I had her on this one. “Not once.”

“Okay…that’s because he’s seen you in action and knows how hard you work with no time to check your phone.” A smile entered her voice. “How many times has he text since you’ve been home?”

Dangnamit.

I sheepishly looked at the message thread of the past few hours while I cooked, scratched Visa, and climbed into bed. “Sixteen.”

“And there you have it, councillor.”