Page 13 of On A Manhunt: Complete Series

MAVERICK

The parade was a big deal in Hunter Valley.

The group of us with the animal shelter were between the high school marching band and the scouts.

Both sides of Main Street were filled with residents clapping, little kids ready to grab candy tossed from the various floats and well, probably everyone in the county.

It was noisy, especially behind kids with instruments.

The weather was amazing, sunny and not too hot.

It was everything I imagined small town life to be like and I had to admit, I was completely sold.

I was loving Hunter Valley more and more.

Montana wasn’t always like this, I knew.

I’d skied at Hunter Mountain and there’d been snow piles lining the streets taller than me.

For today? I’d enjoy the hell out of it.

There were about thirty of us walking with shelter dogs, waving to the crowd, all of us in our pink t-shirts promoting the coffee shop.

My furry sidekick was Scout. Every time I looked down at him, I couldn’t help but smile.

He was a very obvious result of an Australian shepherd and a corgi getting together for a good time.

He looked just like the sheep herding dog, only with legs five inches long.

I would swear he smiled up at me, thrilled to be out of the shelter.

He’d ridden in the passenger seat of my car to the start of the parade, head out the open window, taking in every scent that we drove past. He didn’t need a leash, responding instantly to any command I gave.

He sat, laid down, rolled over, fetched a ball, and even tried to herd me when I tried to step off the curb.

He was awesome.

There was no way in hell I was giving him back to the shelter.

It seemed I had a thing these days for wanting to keep the quirky ones.

Like Bridget, who I’d emailed last night. It was my first step to making things right and getting to kiss her again.

I’d like to think I’d have spotted her in the crowd due to a change in the Force or a spidey sense, but it was just too crowded. It was her friend Mallory shouting my name that had me turning.

Beside her was Bridget and fuck me, she stopped me in my tracks.

A woman and a black lab mix cut around us.

I apologized and moved out of the way, Scout following.

As I approached, I took a few seconds to take in all five feet nothing of Bridget Beckett, my latest obsession.

She wore shorts and a sleeveless top. Unlike the day before, her legs were bare.

Her arms were bare. Her clothes fit her.

While she might be small, every inch of her I could see–which was a lot–was toned and tanned.

She had slim hips and small, high breasts I’d felt against my chest the night before.

I knew her shape now and wanted to touch every inch of her. To memorize.

“Hi,” I said, stopping right in front of her. Was it rude to ignore Mallory? Maybe, but she was ignoring us, having crouched down to pet Scout.

“Who’s a handsome guy?” she crooned, rubbing behind his ears. “Yup, that big daddy up there sure is, but you are too.”

Bridget tipped her head back to look at me and pushed her glasses up. Her cheeks flushed prettily and rolled her eyes.

I grinned because I couldn’t decide who was more adorable, her or Scout.

Her. It was definitely her.

When her gaze flicked to the side, to whatever was passing in the parade behind me, then back, I couldn’t miss how she was still nervous and wary. That hadn’t changed.

It was as if she remembered everything about last night, from the feel of my dick beneath her hand to the fact that she was freaked about accidentally sharing the sex quiz.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi,” she said back, then bit her lip.

It was obvious she hadn’t seen my email yet, because if she read the attachment, she’d either slap me, jump me, or run away screaming. I knew which one I preferred but having her do none of them was also a win.

“What’s the square root of three thousand, four hundred and fifty-eight?” I asked, picking a random number.

Her eyes met mine and she frowned. “Fifty-eight point eight. Why?”

My dick twitched at the fact that she answered that within a second. I had no idea if that was the correct answer, but I was sure she had it right. The number didn’t care. I only wanted her to think of something, anything, besides her nerves.

I shrugged, studied the freckles on her nose. “No reason. Just wanted to hear your brain at work.”

The corner of her mouth tipped up. “My brain’s not that loud,” she countered, remembering that we’d said the same thing at the coffee shop.

Fuck, she made me smile. I reached out–I couldn’t help myself–and gave her bun a gentle tug. Yeah, I was definitely keeping her.