Dylan (Bachelors of the Ridge #1) (6 page)

Staring up at Dylan, I waited for him to meet my eyes again. When he finally did, I couldn’t stand it. He looked so embarrassed, and it was such a good look on his handsome, completely not average face that I wanted to kiss him.

So instead, I stood up and clapped my hands, whipping that thought away. Men like Dylan, they almost always saw me as one of two things: the quirky girl that never sparked their interest or the little sister type. Probably the lack of cleavage. And hips. And that my usual attempt at flirting consisted of choking on my spit. So yeah, I did what came easiest and smacked him in the shoulder.

“I like it,” I pronounced and he gave me a tiny smile that pinched my heart. “Now, let’s go shopping.”

He groaned, picked up his dog, and followed me.

D
ylan followed
me from work in a giant white truck, an older model that fit with all his rugged manly mountain-ness, which was all
totally
average, as I drove from the clinic to the closest pet store. The PetSmart parking lot wasn’t too busy when we parked and made our way in, the sun setting off to the west and making everything dusky and purple and pretty. Dylan set Leonidas in a cart since we didn’t have a collar or leash, and the slippery floors of the store might have caused him issues.

“So,” he started when we walked down the food aisle and I picked up a twenty-pound bag of puppy chow and carefully tucked it next to Leonidas, who sniffed over the edges of the bag excitedly.

“Yeah?”

Dylan tossed a package of tennis balls into the cart. I gave him an amused smile considering Leonidas was months away from being able to chase them. He just shook his head, which made me smile even bigger. “How long have you worked at that place?”

“Just for a couple months,” I said, pointing for him to grab some puppy shampoo. “I finished school last spring, and this is my first
real
job. You know, the one that people actually take seriously.”

He laughed, but nodded. “Not that serving is a cake walk, but yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve been managing for years, and I still get that feeling when I tell people what I do.”

Holding a bright green collar up, Dylan squinted and shook his head, reaching down for a royal blue one instead. I snagged the matching leash from a lower rung and tossed it in.

“Were you a server before you managed?”

“Bartender, actually.”

“Now
that
I can see. You probably made a killing.” Instantly, I cringed, peering up at him to see if that came out as flirtatious as I
so
had not intended it to be. He just nudged me with his elbow, an easy grin on his face.

“I did all right, I suppose. But I caught a break when another manager quit; I got thrown in with no idea what I was doing, and it just stuck, I guess.”

“How long ago was that?”

“You digging for how old I am?” he teased, those damn blue eyes sparkling at me.
Sparkling.

“Nope,” I said, and I meant it. If I knew that, I’d probably feel silly around him.

The look he gave me was long and considering, like he wasn’t entirely positive I was telling the truth. But something told me that the more I knew about him and the more he knew about
me
, I’d feel that much more out of my league.

“Fair enough,” he said. “So, is your family from around here?”

Nope, that was also not happening. I pivoted to the side, trying to keep the prickle over my skin from spreading like it did any time someone asked where I was from. “I grew up in Nebraska.”

“Ahh. That was quite the state to drive through. I almost fell asleep three times.”

“That sounds about right.” I shoved some puppy training pads at him and gave him the biggest smile I could manage. “Don’t forget about these.”

“Uhh, okay, yeah.”

Before he could ask about my background again, I took the cart handle from him, and pushed off from the linoleum floor hard with one foot, then stepped up onto the bottom rail of the cart, gliding down the aisle. When he caught up with me, he was grinning.

“Hey, careful with my dog.”

I smiled at his playful tone and stepped off the cart. We meandered through the store, grabbing a few more toys and some dog biscuits, the right brush for Leonidas’ type of fur and a soft, fluffy round bed. When we turned down the aisle for the crates, I looked up at Dylan, who looked down at me with a confused, wrinkled brow.

“Are you going to crate train him?”

“I don’t
know
, Kat. I don’t even know what that is.”

I laughed, pointing at a really nice one with a top opening. “It just gives him a safe place to be when you’re at work and protects your house from a bored puppy. Most dogs end up loving them.”

Dylan stopped. “Oh shit, oh damn it, he’s going to murder me.”

“Who?”

“My friend, Garrett,” he groaned. “I’m staying with him until I find my own place.”

“How laid back is Garrett?” The look Dylan gave me made me cringe. “Will he flip out?”

“Well, I guess that depends on how much Leonidas here enjoys the taste of throw pillows.”

I laughed, scratching Leonidas’s right ear. “He’ll learn, don’t worry. How about we go ring this stuff up, and then you can call Garrett on your way back home?”

Dylan stopped, and then started walking backwards while I pushed the cart toward the checkout area. “Oh, you’re coming with me.”

Red light. I stopped so quickly that Leonidas lurched against the bag of food. “I can’t come back to your house with you,” I practically shrieked. “You’re my
boss.
”

“I’m technically only one-quarter of your boss,” he said calmly, gesturing for me to keep walking, but I wasn’t budging.

“No. I’m wearing scrubs, and I’ve been massaging dogs all day and no. I can’t go to your house and meet your throw-pillow-obsessed roommate right now. No, no, no.”

Dylan sighed and looked down at Leonidas, who was slowly running out of room among all his new possessions. “Well, sir, I think she’s ditching you in your hour of need.”

“I am doing
no
such thing,” I whispered.

“Just when we need her to help get you settled and show me how to make you pee outside and make sure Uncle Garrett welcomes you into his home with open arms.” He reached into the cart and hefted Leonidas up and out, settling him into those stupid arms. I popped a hip out and tapped my foot impatiently on the floor. He ignored me. “I don’t even know how much food I’m supposed to give you. What if you’re hungry all the time?”

“Google it.”

He ignored me, walking down the aisle, whispering into the puppy’s ears. “And what if Garrett kicks you out in the cold, cold night because he’s not properly introduced to you? I may mess it up. What will we do then?”

“Oh for crying out loud,” I huffed, shoving past him with the cart and marching toward the cash registers. “I will give you thirty minutes, and that’s it.”

The smile that covered Dylan’s face wasn’t smug, which almost made me smile back. He just looked relieved. Damn it. Then he set Leonidas back in the cart and ruffled my hair. Yup. The little sister category, I was right back into it.

“Thanks, Sprite.”

My jaw popped open, fighting against the initial rush of
awesome
that he gave me a nickname. I wasn’t supposed to love that so much, was I? “No.” There. I could fake it.

“What?”

“Uh-uh, Dylan. That is not happening here.”

“But you’re so cute and little,” he said with all seriousness while he set items onto the conveyor belt. “Like a little fairy sprite.”

“I just knocked fifteen minutes from my offer.” Which I totally did not mean.

He clutched at his chest, groaning like he was in pain. “You wound me. I only give nicknames to the people I really like.”

“Well find another one,” I muttered.

We were both quiet while his stuff was rung up, but I could feel him glance at me every once in a while. My eyes stayed firmly on the dog. For those few minutes, I started worrying that I’d messed it up, this tentative little thing we had. I didn’t even dare think it—that
f
word that I’d struggled with my whole life. The
friend
one. Not the bad f word.

My interactions with my coworkers hovered closely enough to surface stuff that they never followed me once I’d punched out. Just walking through the empty aisles of a pet store with Dylan felt foreign.

Pathetic.
The word crept up into my head before I could stop it. I was so pathetic, that I didn’t know how to do this, that I was so turned around hanging out with him that I didn’t know how to react properly to the things he said. It was bad enough that I couldn’t actually blame my awkwardness on that fact that he was a twelve on a one-to-ten scale. He could be four inches shorter than me and weigh three hundred pounds and I’d still have this unsettled feeling swimming through me if we hung out. But if he was trying, then so could I. I’d just have to find a way to leave the muscles and the dimples and the chiseled
everything
in my peripheral vision.

“I like sprite, I guess,” I said, flicking my eyes to his face. He didn’t respond right away, tucking his credit card back into his wallet. I’d
never
been given a nickname before. And even though ‘sprite’ probably meant he looked at me like a little kid, it still made happy bubbles flit through my stomach. The idea that he had a name just for me, just used by him, was giving me a case of the warm fuzzies like I’d never experienced.

“Good. I do too.” He gave the store worker a smile and then turned to me. “Ready to go?”

I set my shoulders. “Lead the way.”

* * *

I
didn’t know
what I’d expected for his friend’s place, but the neighborhood was so beautifully manicured that all I could do was gawk. There were apartment buildings off in the distance, but all the winding roads that I followed Dylan through held beautiful condos in different styles, nothing cookie cutter, no mirror images anywhere I could see, unlike my apartment complex that now felt very shabby in comparison.

When Dylan pulled his truck into the first driveway after the second right turn, I eased next to the curb across the street and sat in my car for a few seconds, unexpectedly nervous. Little gnawing bites of anxiety crept up my skin and I could feel the rattle of my heart under my ribs.

Someone like Dylan probably couldn’t fathom what that felt like—the unease of an unfamiliar situation and unfamiliar people. I’d had it my whole life, the product of shuffling from one foster home to the other and never, ever knowing what to expect. Hunkering down and keeping quiet, keeping obedient meant I was ignored, and being ignored was the best possible outcome in a with a new foster family that didn’t particularly care if you were happy and settled.

Unbidden, that trait had tracked me into adulthood, when I started school and my job with Bill four years earlier. Things like this? Walking into a beautiful home with a beautiful man who was being kind to me was probably what other people felt like before they stepped out of a skydiving plane and prayed that the chute would open. That breathless moment when you’re not sure your body will do what you command it to, which for me meant stepping out of the car.

But I pulled in a breath through my nose, and let it out through my mouth, forcing my heart to slow its rapid tap dance. Dylan was waiting for me in the driveway with a patient smile on his face, though he couldn’t possibly know what was cycling through my head. Leonidas sniffed around at his feet, ambling through the trimmed grass to finally squat and pee on the lawn. Dylan hunkered down to praise him, and the proud look on his face made me grin.

When the door of my rusty Civic opened with a squawk of protest, Dylan looked up at me. “Did you see that? He peed in the grass! My dog is a genius.”

Leonidas’s tail was whipping side to side, and he bounced over toward me as soon as I cleared the street. The glow of the lights on the house made him look like a dark gold, and his wiggly body practically vibrated with happiness.

“What a good boy,” I crooned, patting the side of his belly. Dylan was just about to speak when the front door swung open. The guy who braced himself in the doorway was probably as tall as Dylan, but leaner and lighter in coloring. He wasn’t looking at me, but at the wriggling, furry body at my feet with narrowed, dark eyes, then back at Dylan.

“Dude.”

The accusation in his voice made me chuckle a little bit.

Dylan held up his hands. “Garrett, hear me out.”

“You got a
dog
? Are you out of your
mind
?”

“Trust me, I wasn’t expecting this either. But I’ll be out of here soon.” This earned him a glare. “Okay, at least I hope I am. But he’ll be fine, trust me.” Dylan gestured at me, and it was like Garrett finally registered that someone else was standing there. “Kat is going to help me get him all set up, and it’ll be great. You won’t even notice he’s around.”

Garrett snorted, then walked down the front steps and across the lawn to where we stood. He had a sharp featured face that might have seemed harsh, but his smile was quick and easy when he aimed it at me and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” I said with an awkward wave. “I’m Kat. But yeah, I guess he already said that.”

His smile broadened and he held out a hand to me, which I clasped and let go of quickly, so I could cross my arms in front of me. “And where did Dylan pick
you
up, Kat?”

Before Dylan could say anything, I shrugged lightly. “Maybe I was behind the dumpster at work too.”

Garrett’s smile grew even wider, taking me in from head to toe. It didn’t make me all fluttery, but not uncomfortable either.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, a nervous tell that I knew I’d never be rid of, I looked over at Dylan, who was watching us carefully.

“Just kidding,” I said, when Garrett didn’t respond. “I work at The Continental Divide, but I’m a vet tech too, so I checked out Leonidas after Dylan found him.”