I glanced in the rearview mirror and eyed the dog. I wanted to go and track down the fucker who’d abandoned him, but parked in front of the small vet office instead. “I’m going inside for a leash,” I told him as I glanced at him through the metal grate between the front and back. One ear pointed up as if he were listening carefully. “No way am I chasing you all over town.”
I climbed out, went inside. A little bell above the door signaled my presence. There was no one at the counter, but a guy came down a long hallway.
Not just any guy. Holy shit.
Gus Duke.
We’d dated—if eighteen-year-olds called it dating—right after high school graduation and most of that summer. First love. First everything. We’d been hot and heavy most of the time, especially when he’d popped my cherry in his pickup truck down a dusty side road late one night. I’d popped his, too. It had been intense—the feelings, the desire we shared that one hot summer. God, I’d needed what Gus would give me, but as I grew older, realized it wasn’t enough. I was different, had unusual sexual desires. It was almost as if I were wired differently. Vanilla wasn’t for me.
Thinking back, I had to wonder if we’d had more time together we might have done more than fuck like rabbits. Come August, we’d both gone off to college and never looked back. Oh, I’d thought about him often enough. The sex, especially. We’d been horny teenagers interested in getting off and not the nuances of how to do that. It had taken years for me to understand it was better when it pushed all the right hot buttons. I had to wonder if Gus would know how to push mine… or if he’d want to.
At eighteen, he’d been cute. Hot. Sexy, even. But now, he looked amazing. He’d always been tall—that was one of the things I’d liked about him, making me feel almost short—but at twenty-eight, he’d filled out, added about thirty pounds of lean muscle that couldn’t be missed in his snug jeans and the cut of his shirt.
I’d seen him once since I’d been back. There had been an incident at the Duke ranch, a trespasser. Gus’s brother, Tucker, now ran things, but the whole family had been there for a picnic. I hadn’t gone alone. I’d shown up with a deputy who’d been ready to take the guy down if necessary. It hadn’t been since the asshole—I could confirm he was one based on the filth he’d spewed the entire time he was in custody—had been trussed up like a Christmas goose. So I’d done nothing more than give Gus a small wave of greeting before we took the guy away. I hadn’t had a chance to look my fill.
But now I could. And did.
Dark hair, dark eyes that were eyeing me as closely as I was him. The beard was new—I doubted he’d had more than a few whiskers at eighteen. Close cropped, even from across the lobby I could see hints of red in it. He wore a flannel button-up and jeans. Sturdy leather boots. All he was missing to complete his full cowboy look was a hat, but I knew he had one since he’d had it on when I saw him at the ranch. He didn’t look like a veterinarian, but a calendar model for Sexy Cowboys of Montana.
“Parker,” he said and nothing else. His deep voice crept into me and made my nipples hard. God, one word and I was in trouble here.
There were ten years’ worth of things to say, but I had no idea how to start, so I thumbed over my shoulder. “Gus. I… um, found a stray dog. Got him in my car. Thought maybe you could take a look at him.”
He went over to a hook on the wall with a few rope leashes and took one down. “Sure. Let’s go get him.”
He escorted me out of the clinic, leaving the door open behind him. I went to the SUV and he followed. When I opened the back door, I caught him eyeing my ass. He grinned, not the least bit ashamed at being caught. Yeah, he hadn’t changed all that much.
Before Gus could get the leash on him, the dog jumped out, trotted up the walk to a small shrub, peed beside it, then continued right inside the vet office.
Gus watched and gave a little head shake. “Guess she’s not going to be a difficult patient.”
“She?” I asked, staring into the vet clinic as if I could still see the dog. “I thought she was a he.”
He glanced at me, the smile still on his full lips—the lips I remembered kissing me oh so well—and arched one dark brow. “She squatted to pee. Didn’t lift a leg.”
That made sense. “I didn’t take time to check out her… undercarriage.”
The dark brow went up higher and his full lip curled in that sexy way I remembered so fondly. “I remember your undercarriage.” He took a step closer. “Tell me, pixie, still got that little mole on the inside of your right thigh? Right up by those pretty pussy lips
?”
* * *