Tamed By the Mountain Daddy (Mountain Daddy Matches #2)

Chapter 1

one

Rex

"Come on, Thor. Just favor the left leg a little."

Thor sits and stares at me with pure judgment.

"Don't look at me like that. This is the seventh time, I know. But she works early shifts on Tuesdays."

Thor yawns, showing all his teeth.

I’ve been doing this for too long. Different fake emergencies each time—anxiety, upset stomach, mysterious lethargy, possible ear infection, behavioral changes, and last week, a cough that vanished the moment we walked through the door.

Daisy Wilde. Five feet of curves and chaos who started working here three months ago.

Dark hair always escaping from messy buns, scrubs that can't hide her full figure, talking to the animals like they're people.

She takes every overnight shift, every emergency call, fosters too many animals.

Yesterday I saw her car here at 11 PM. Still here at 7 AM.

The woman needs someone to take care of her before she burns out completely.

"Mr. Smith?"

Her voice comes from the doorway. She's holding a coffee cup with cartoon puppies on it, steam curling in the morning air. There's hay in her hair and what looks like kitten formula on her scrubs.

"Thor's limping," I lie.

She looks at Thor, who's now lying down, perfectly healthy. "Is he though? Because it seems intermittent. Like his anxiety, stomach issues, and that mysterious cough that only happens in your truck."

Busted.

"Come on in," she sighs, but she's trying not to smile. "Dr. Mitchell is at a conference, so it's just me. But we both know Thor's fine."

I follow her inside, Thor trotting perfectly beside me, the traitor. The waiting room smells like disinfectant and vanilla body spray.

"Exam room two," she says, leading the way.

Thor jumps onto the examination table without any sign of distress. Daisy runs her hands over his legs with practiced efficiency, and he preens under the attention.

"Rex, can I ask you something? Why do you really keep coming here?"

Before I can figure out how to answer without sounding like a stalker, her phone explodes with notifications. Text after text light up the screen.

Her face crumples as she reads. "No, no, no..."

"What's wrong?"

"Someone found a dog. Hit by a car. They want me to take it but I already have twelve fosters and my landlord sent an eviction warning yesterday and—" Her voice cracks. Tears start rolling down her cheeks.

"Twelve? In what, a mansion?"

"Studio apartment."

"Fuck, Daisy."

The tears come harder. "I know! But I can't say no. Everyone calls me because I always say yes and now I'm getting evicted and I haven't slept in three days and I spent my last fifty dollars on cat food and—"

"Hey." I move closer, hands up like I'm approaching a spooked animal. "Breathe."

She takes a shaky breath. "I can't keep doing this but I can't stop."

"The injured dog—where is it?"

"Mrs. Cameron has it. She's bringing it here."

"Call the rescue in Granville. They have emergency services."

"But."

"Daisy." I use my command voice, the one that used to make special forces operators freeze. "Make the call."

She does, hands shaking. When she hangs up, she looks lost.

"I never say no. That's the first time I've ever redirected an animal."

"Good. You need to do it more often."

"I literally don't know how."

"Then you need help. When's your shift end?"

"Technically? Two hours ago. But I need to feed the boarding animals and—"

"No. Clock out. I'm buying you breakfast."

"Rex, I have responsibilities."

"And you're no good to anyone dead on your feet. Clock out, little girl."

Something changes in her eyes at those words. Recognition. Want. Wariness.. “You can't just order me around."

"I'm not ordering. I'm offering. Breakfast. A friend. Someone to help you figure this out before you collapse."

She studies me for a long moment. "Just breakfast? Because I don't even know you."

"You know I've been coming here for six weeks with a perfectly healthy dog just to see you. That has to count for something."

A tiny smile. "That's either romantic or creepy."

"Little of both?" I admit. "But seriously—breakfast. Let me help."

She laughs, wet and shaky. "Fine. Breakfast. But I'm paying for myself."

"You just said you spent your last fifty on cat food."

"I have a credit card."

"That you're maxing out on animal expenses. I'm buying."

Twenty minutes later, we're at Pinewood Cafe. Daisy's inhaling pancakes like she hasn't eaten in days.

"This is nice," she says between bites. "Having someone else make a decision. Even a small one."

"You need more of that?"

She sets down her fork. "What I need is a personality transplant. Or a backbone. Or someone to follow me around saying no for me."

"I could do that. Help you set boundaries. Learn to protect yourself."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I've been watching you for three months. You're drowning and everyone just keeps throwing you more weight."

"And you want to throw me a life preserver?" She studies me. "What do you get out of it?"

"The satisfaction of helping. And..." I decide on honesty. "I like you, Daisy. Have since you started. Watching you burn yourself out is killing me." My face is burning now. I’ve never been good at talking to women, which is why it took me so long to ask her out in the first place.

"So this is romantic interest disguised as life coaching?"

"It's both. But right now, you need the life coaching more."

"I need a lot of things." She looks at her plate. "Structure. Rules. Someone to make the hard decisions because I can't seem to make any decisions that protect myself."

"I can help with that."

"It's not your job."

"I'm volunteering. One week trial. Let me help you get things sorted. Set some boundaries. If it doesn't work, I'll back off. And if it does work, then we see where it goes."

She bites her lip, thinking. "I don't know how to accept help. That's the first thing we work on, I guess. No one’s ever made help me before."

"Their loss." I lean forward. "One week, Daisy. Let me help. What's the worst that could happen?"

"I could fall for you completely and you could realize I'm too much work."

"Or you could let someone take care of you for once and realize you deserve it."

We stare at each other across the table. Finally, she nods. "One week. But I probably can't change—"

"You already did. You said no to that injured dog. That's a start."

"I feel guilty about it."

"But you did it anyway. That's strength."

My phone buzzes. Text from John: Still at the vet? It's been two hours.

I show Daisy. "My friends are tracking my fake emergencies."

She laughs. "They know? Everyone knows? And Thor hasn't been subtle about his miraculous recoveries, has he?"

"He really is fine. Healthiest dog in Darkmore. Though he does have one real issue—attachment disorder. Gets attached to certain people." I look at her meaningfully. "Specifically, pretty veterinary assistants who give him treats."

She blushes. "I don't always give him treats."

"You gave him three last time."

"He has a very convincing face! So do you, apparently." She's trying not to smile. "How about dinner tonight? I can tell you about the foster situation, we'll make a plan."

"I'll pick you up at seven. No arguments."

"Bossy."

"You need bossy."

She doesn't deny it. Progress.