Not Just The Girl Next Door. Stacy ConnellyЧитать онлайн книгу.
their gazes met, for a brief second the atmosphere around them seem to change, to shimmer with an electric charge like the air right before a storm. His hazel eyes, normally so full of teasing and laughter, darkened, and Mollie’s heart fluttered in her chest.
But then he blinked, and whatever she thought she’d seen disappeared. “You had a three foot drop-off at the edge of the porch. That’s not safe.”
Overprotective concern. Now that emotion she immediately recognized and the curious flutter sank to her stomach like a stone.
Kid, she reminded herself as she swallowed hard. Friend. That was how Zeke thought of her. The little sister he’d never wanted.
He had teasingly dubbed her with the title long ago, and even though she’d never thought of him as a big brother, a part of her clung to the designation like a shield. Anything to keep the man she’d fallen in love with years ago from ever learning about her hopeless crush.
“You could at least wait for me to ask for help first,” she argued.
“I would.” He pinned her with a knowing look. “But you never ask.”
Maybe she did have a habit of digging deeper when she was already in over her head. But she wasn’t a kid anymore, and the woman in Mollie longed for the day when Zeke Harper would see her as someone other than his best friend’s little sister...always in need of rescue.
“Two dogs?” Zeke demanded as he followed Mollie around the side gate to her backyard. Though her property extended far beyond the fence line, the wooden structure that surrounded the large grassy area was one of the first remodeling projects he’d helped her with.
Before taking on the leaky faucets. Before putting in the new water heater. Before tearing out the decades-old carpet. Because the fence was important to the dogs and the dogs were more important to Mollie than anything.
He admired her huge heart when it came to the animals, he really did. But he was starting to worry that she was dedicating too much of her life to the dogs she rescued and the ones she trained.
“Your text said that you were going to the shelter to evaluate a dog. You never said anything about bringing two of them home with you.”
“I did go to evaluate him.” She tossed the words, along with her reddish-blond curls, over her shoulder as she glanced back at him. “And my evaluation was that Chief needed to be in a foster home and out of a kennel.”
Mollie had introduced him to both dogs—the happy, playful seventy-pound puppy named Charlie and the shy, scared Chief.
The poor guy did look terrified. He’d been cowering in the back of the crate in Mollie’s SUV, and it had taken quite a bit of coaxing from Mollie and some encouraging barks from Charlie to get him to come out. And even then, he’d crouched so low that his belly was practically brushing against the grass.
“Look, I get it, but don’t you think this is a lot to take on? Between the house, volunteering at Furever Paws, your job, your own dog...” He waved a hand to the house, trying not to cringe at the sound of Arti howling like mad inside. Mollie loved the long-eared hound like a kid, but Zeke wasn’t sure he’d ever met a goofier, clumsier, crazier dog.
“I can do this, Zeke. The house is fine. I’m perfectly capable of handling my volunteer work and my job, and Arti is, well, Arti.” Unleashing both of the new dogs to explore a backyard filled with various dog toys and agility equipment, Mollie said, “I’ll introduce the three of them later today, but I’m sure they’ll get along.”
Though Zeke didn’t dare say so out loud, it wasn’t the house, the shelter, her job or her dogs he was worried about. It was Mollie herself. She worked hard, probably too hard, and while he knew she kept in good physical shape—she couldn’t possibly keep up with the rigors of dog training and agility if she didn’t—she spent too much time alone with only canine companionship.
But whenever he encouraged her to go out more often, Mollie would only laugh. “What can I say?” she’d joked more than once. “I get along better with animals than I do with people. I wear my ‘crazy dog lady’ title with pride!”
Zeke didn’t think Mollie was crazy—not as a friend and not as a psychologist. He had noticed, though, that she’d isolated herself more and more over the past two years. That worried him. When he saw a problem, his first instinct was to find a solution, and he quickly decided Mollie needed to get out more, to go on a date or two. She’d need a bit of encouragement, of course, which was where he came in. Fixing her up would be no different than fixing her back steps.
Okay, maybe it was a little different...
Certainly his track record with power tools was better than his own success when it came to relationships. And that included the time in shop class when he’d slipped while working with a circular saw and needed twenty-two stitches. At least he’d only tried cutting his fool hand off.
Lilah Fairchild had done her best to rip out his heart.
But Mollie was nothing like his ex-fiancée. She was sweet and kind and funny, and Zeke didn’t like the idea of her being alone.
And Patrick wouldn’t have, either.
Zeke took a deep breath and refocused his attention on Mollie and the new dogs as Charlie raced over at full speed and jumped up, planted a pair of muddy paws right on Mollie’s chest and dropped a tennis ball at her feet. Zeke knew plenty of women—Lilah included—who would have been annoyed. But Mollie merely laughed and bent to pick up the slobber-covered green felt. “Somebody needs a few lessons in the proper way to greet people, but look what a smart girl you are to find a ball!”
The silly Lab basked in the praise, tail wagging her entire body, pink tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. Zeke wasn’t surprised. Mollie had always known how to encourage him, too, how to cheer him up like she had in the days following his broken engagement.
Lilah wasn’t good enough for you. You deserve someone so much better.
Mollie deserved the best, which would make finding the right guy for her a tall order. Not that plenty of guys wouldn’t be willing. Even though Mollie wasn’t the type to waste time messing around with her hair or piling on makeup, she had a fresh-faced beauty. With her reddish curls, blue-green eyes and freckled skin, he’d always thought she was cute.
He watched as Mollie tried to engage the dog in a game of fetch, but Charlie clearly had other ideas. Like playing keep-away by racing around the yard, prized ball clutched in her drooling jaws. The dog zigged every time Mollie zagged, and her laughter grabbed hold of something inside his chest.
Cute? Hell, she was gorgeous.
The late-afternoon sun brought out the blaze of golden highlights in her hair. Her royal blue Best Friends T-shirt showed off her toned arms and the thin material hugged her breasts. Her jeans were well-worn and faded, one of the back pockets partially torn off and flapping against a perfectly rounded backside. The tattered square seemed to taunt him to reach out and give a tug, and he didn’t think it was any latent OCD tendencies that had his palms sweating.
Almost as if sensing the wayward direction of his thoughts, Charlie charged toward Zeke, grass churning beneath her paws, and launched straight at his midsection. He might have withstood the blow if Chief hadn’t wandered up behind him, close enough that the back of his knees connected with the dog’s sturdy body as he stumbled backward, upending him as easily as the stupid prank-playing jocks back in high school had.
He landed flat on his back with a grunt, squinting up at the bright sky overhead. The fragrant grass was cool through the material of his T-shirt, but not cool enough to keep the heat of embarrassment from sinking into his skin.
“And to think, I didn’t even have to train them to do that. Such natural talent!”