Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Ethan: Same.
The text came through, and I was shocked after all that typing at the one-word response. I wondered what he had deleted? Heat rushed to my cheeks as I pictured what he looked like right now—a pair of silk pajama pants covering his long, muscled legs, as he laid shirtless in a giant bed.
I pressed my lips together as anticipation flared through me. God, it’d been too long since I let someone into my bed. I was practically aching for a release. And his kiss hadn’t helped anything in that department. That had to explain the desire coursing through me with just the thought of him casually lying in bed, right?
Just when I was about to give up on the conversation, certain he’d moved on to a morning routine, another text came through.
Ethan: When’s our next session?
I couldn’t hold back my smile.
Me: Today. After 12.
Ethan: Meeting on your turf or mine?
Me: Mine.
I still needed to shake him out of his routine, get to know him while he’s out of his comfort zone. It was the way I’d had the most success in getting honest answers from clients. Putting them in unexpected places helped them get their guard down, which helped me understand them on a deeper level. The deeper we went, the easier I could help them.
Ethan: Just tell me the time and place.
My heart fluttered in my chest at his determination, even when I reminded myself that he was obligated to complete these sessions with me. His ownership of the Hurricanes depended upon it, but my heart didn’t seem to tell the difference.
I texted him the address of where I’d be volunteering.
Ethan: I’ll see you there.
Me: Can’t wait.
I sent the text quickly, then cringed.
Can’t wait?
Super smooth and professional on my end, for sure.
“Easy, Bruno,” I said in a soothing voice as I scrubbed the coarse fur of a puppy, who was shaking as I guided him into the walk-in tub. I scratched behind his ears, massaging in a slow, comforting way until his shaking subsided.
Once he was comfortable, I turned on the water to warm, and coated him in slow passes with the showerhead before giving him a good shampoo.
By the end, he was warm, fluffy, and licking my face. It was amazing to watch the transformation in shelter dogs after you’d earned their trust. It was just like I tried to do the first few sessions with my clients—earn their trust—but it’s not like I could do so by giving them a bath.
Heat struck my core as the image of Ethan and me in the shower hit me so hard I could barely breathe. All those toned muscles, dripping wet, that wry smirk as he tugged me flush against him—
“He ready?” Stacy—the manager of my local animal shelter—asked, eying Bruno.
“Yes,” I said, slightly breathless from the fantasy.
Stacy happily took him back to his room, and I forced myself to focus.
I hoped the fresh bath would help Bruno with his adoption possibilities. He had an interview today, and my fingers were crossed.
I retrieved the next pup that needed a good scrub, returning to the washing station room only to stop short.
“Ethan,” I said, surprise coloring my tone. “You came.”
“I was invited,” he said, echoing the same response from Friday.
I cringed at my obvious shock, trying like hell to shake it off. “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I’m surprised. I guess I keep expecting you to request someone else as your coach,” I admitted.
“Everyone confirms you’re the best.” He shrugged, the action paired with an endearing smile that had my heart flipping in my chest. “That’s a good thing,” he said, stepping closer. “And maybe I enjoy surprising you.”
The small yorkie-mix I was holding on a leash jumped up, scraping his shin while wagging its tail.
“Lacy,” I chided lovingly while gently pulling her away. I scooped her up and put her in a tub while glancing over my shoulder at Ethan, studying his suit. “Do you own anything other than thousand-dollar suits?” I asked. “That isn’t exactly pet-washing friendly.”
“A thousand?” He smirked. “That’s just for my tie. But I don’t mind.”
“Right,” I said, nodding slowly. “Because money isn’t a problem for you.”
“Ouch,” he said, hissing slightly. “That kind of sounded like an insult.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” I flashed him an apologetic look and hurried to focus on washing Lacy.
“So, where can I get a dog to wash?” he asked. “I’m guessing that’s part of the session today? Seeing if I can handle a shelter animal?”
“Today’s session is still explorative,” I explained. “I’m still trying to get to know you.”
“I’m an open book,” he said.
“I hear that a lot from people,” I said.
“Do they always mean it?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Most times, people think they’re being open when in reality they’re saying things they think the other person wants to hear.”