A Brand New Ending
“Oh no. She has plans. I’ll be all alone and would really love the company. How does sushi sound?”
“More coffee?” Ophelia cut in.
“Yes, please. This is an unbelievable spread, Ophelia. Isn’t she amazing?” he asked Devon.
“Oh yeah. She is.” Devon shoved the piece of toast in her mouth and chewed. “So good. I hate women who turn down food just because they think they’re fat.”
“Right? I agree,” he said, totally clueless.
“We have so much in common. I’ll come to your room at seven p.m.”
He shook his head. “What? Oh. No, sorry. I can’t do dinner tonight.”
“Of course you can! You need some downtime. Refill the well, right?”
“I have plans. I’m dining with a . . . friend.”
“Oh, okay. Maybe we can catch a drink beforehand.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure. I better get to work.” He got up, carrying his plates and heading toward the kitchen. “Have a great time at the festival.”
Ophelia clamped down a grin when she saw the furious expression on Devon’s face. She followed him to the kitchen, where he stood in front of the sink. He grabbed the sponge.
“You don’t have to clean up,” she said. “I got it.”
“No, you’ve done enough this morning. Let me.”
With his tight ass cupped in jeans and a soapy sponge in his hand doing dishes, the scene was total porn. Her knees grew a bit weak. “Thanks. Who are you having dinner with tonight?” she asked.
“No one. Just not her.”
Pleasure shot through her. “Not interested, huh?”
He gave her a stunned look. “Are you kidding me? Definitely not my type.”
“Oh yeah? What is your type?”
He gave a low laugh, moving the sponge in perfect circles. “Not someone with perfectly manicured fingernails. I like a woman who knows how to get dirty and messy.”
Laughter bubbled inside. She glanced at her own hands, which hadn’t seen polish in years. “Hmm, interesting. What else?”
“Let’s see . . . a woman who doesn’t agree with everything I say. That gets old. I prefer a challenge.”
“Does a woman who calls you a controlling asshole count as a challenge?”
“Definitely. That just turns me on.”
She cocked her hip and pursed her lips. “You are definitely an odd man. Anything else?”
“I do have a fetish not many can satisfy.”
“Hmm. Fetish, huh? I hope it’s not feet. That’s just wrong.”
“Nope. Freckles. I love freckles scattered across pale skin. They’re like a Picasso painting I can’t stop staring at.”
Pleasure flushed her cheeks. “More like paint-by-number, but I won’t judge.”
“Then there’s sex.”
She stilled. Her heart beat madly in her chest. “Sex?”
“I have certain needs that many would find difficult to satisfy.”
An image floated past her vision. His body pressed over hers, his tongue diving deep into her mouth with a tender fierceness that shook her to the core. He’d always had an insatiable appetite in the bedroom. Their sex life had never been an issue—it had, in fact, kept the fragments of their relationship together longer than she imagined possible.
“Kinky stuff?” she asked.
“More like particular. I need a woman who’s able to handle me.”
Her gaze dropped. “Cocky much?”
“I need the scent of lavender and honey in my nostrils, and the sweet taste of her essence sticky on my lips. I need to look into blistering blue eyes and know I belong to her.”
Her vision misted over. She swayed on her feet. He turned off the sink, dried his hands with slow, deliberate motions, and faced her. “I need to slide into her sweet body and be welcomed home. Touch her body and make her moan. I need a woman strong enough to let me fall apart in her arms, then put me back together. Do you understand, Ophelia?”
She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Her entire body was on fire, nerves on edge, ready to explode. His raw words stroked her ears—and between her legs.
“Ophelia? Do you understand?”
“Y-y-yes.”
“Good. Then you know why I’m not interested in Devon.” He gave her a naughty wink and spun on his heel. “Gotta get to work on that saggy middle. Catch you later.”
He left her flushed, off-kilter, and practically throbbing with need.
Bastard.
Damn, she was crazy about him.
Chapter Eighteen
“I need your help.”
Harper barged through the door, her features set in familiar determination. Ophelia stared at her sister—and at the dog she held in her arms. The once-black shepherd had flecks of gray in his coat, face, and whiskers. His fur was streaked with mud. There was an ugly patch of dried skin toward his rear. His brown eyes rose briefly to meet hers, then quickly dropped.
It was too late, though. She’d already glimpsed the weariness. This dog had seen hard times and was starting to check out.
Ophelia reached out and petted his head with soothing strokes, heart squeezing with sympathy. “Where’d you find him?”
“In the woods. He was half-starved, probably dumped. I took him to the vet. Thankfully there’s nothing wrong with him other than dehydration and his paw. I already have ointment for his dry patches.”
“What’s wrong with the paw?”
“An old injury that never healed. He limps, but the vet said it’s nothing she’d fix at his age. I need to get him a bath, some decent food, and a warm place to sleep.”
“Are you bringing him over to Ethan’s? I have some spare blankets and bowls. What else do you need?”
“I need you to keep him here.”
Ophelia stepped back and put her hands up. “What? You know the rules! I can’t take any animals at the inn. Too many guests have allergies.”
Desperation slowly replaced the determination on her sister’s face. “You have to help me out for a little while. I tried to take him to my place, but he began thrashing and howling and totally freaked when he saw my other dogs. Then I tried Ethan’s house, but he was terrified of Hei Hei and Wheezy. I don’t know what happened, but he needs to be in a place with no other animals.”
“What about the vet? Sarah takes them in when we have trouble.”
“Sarah’s booked up because of the winter. The other kennel I work with is also overcrowded. I made a bunch of calls, and all of them were dead ends. He needs our help, Ophelia.”
She groaned and shook her head. “I can’t! I don’t even have a decent room to keep him in. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
“So we’ll just let him go back into the woods?” Harper threw out, anger threading her voice. “It’s just a stray mutt, right? Who cares?”
She didn’t rise to the bait, knowing this was a sensitive spot with her sister. Every animal meant something special to her, and she swore never to let one suffer if it crossed her path. A great philosophy, but a bit hard to put into practice. Every spare inch of their farm already held homeless animals.
“I care,” she said softly. “I’m just saying I can’t because of the business I run. There’s some guests here who are a bit demanding right now. As much as I’d like to, I can’t kick them out.”