Chapter 4
Emery
Daisy and Dezi were thrilled to see me when I returned home for the second time this morning.
Although I’m dead on my feet, I take them both down to the park and let them off leash in the enclosed doggie play area, chucking the ball and watching them scamper after it before finally returning home thirty minutes later.
It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that the foster-dad-to-be is Shaw Benning.
Nope. Nothing at all.
When I explained what happened earlier this morning to my daytime counterpart, Misty, and who it was that found the dog, Misty shrieked in delight.
“Oh. My. God! Shaw Benning? The Vikings hockey player?” I thought she was about to pass out from the way she was hyperventilating around her words. “And he lives in your apartment building? OMG!”
It then clicked with me why his name sounded familiar. It’s funny he didn’t mention that he was a hockey player. Shows he’s not stuck on himself like I imagine some players tend to be.
Truth be told, I’ve never been a big hockey fan. The last time I even saw a game was in high school when all my friends were gaga over the boys on the school team and we’d watch them play in the boy aquarium.
But the over-the-top excitement Misty expressed was something I’d never witnessed with my high school friends. She’s a legit, starstruck fan, throwing out all his stats and the team’s win/loss record to me.
Had she not told me all that, I wouldn’t be so nervous as I stand at the threshold of Shaw’s apartment, about to knock on his door.
Now that I know he’s kind of a big deal my nerves are in a tangled mess and my stomach tied up in knots.
I mentioned I’d stop by today to drop off the necessities he’ll need for fostering, so I don’t feel I can back out now, but I’m not sure I’m ready for it. It’s kind of intimidating.
Just as I’ve gathered my courage, ready to raise my fist to knock, the door swings open and a giant blond-haired guy blocks the entire open frame. He doesn’t see me since his head is turned to look back over his shoulder.
“Okay, bruh. I’m outie. Maybe you can convince the hottie neighbor to come with you later.”
When he swings his gaze back around and our eyes connect, we both jolt, his mouth dropping open in surprise.
He looks me over from head to toe. Not in a creepy way, more just a bit of curiosity as to why I’m there.
Then he notices the bag of dog food in my arms and his mouth curls upward in a smirk.
“Well, hello there.” He folds his arms over his chest and casually leans against the doorframe.
I drop the bag at my feet and wiggle my fingers. “Hi. Um, is Shaw around?”
His mouth bursts into a wide grin and he nods his chin to gesture inside. “You mean Shaw, Mr. Do-Gooder Dog-Rescuer? He sure is.” He thrusts a big hand toward me and I shake.
“You must be our neighbor. I’m Case Lyons, Shaw’s roommate.”
“I’m Emery. Nice to meet you.”
“Ahh… So you’re the hot neighbor.” His eyebrows dance in a teasing manner.
I shrug and my embarrassment splashes heat across my cheeks.
“I don’t know about that… I’m just here to drop off supplies.”
Case yells out over his shoulder. “Benny! You’ve got a visitor.”
Suddenly, Case is jerked back by his hood, and Shaw shoulders in front of him, shoving his roommate out of the way.
“Ignore this guy. He’s an idiot and was just leaving.” He cuts a glare at Case, who lets out a deep chuckle, raising his arms in a defeated stance.
“Sorry, bro. I was just being neighborly.” He gives me a flirtatious wink, and I glance away to hide my appreciative smile.
I am in the presence of hockey royalty, and both are very attractive men, at that. I’m used to spending my days with animals of all shapes and sizes, as well as a team of women vets and assistants, not the Viking ice gods and fine physical specimens like these two.
Thankfully, Shaw notices my discomfort and quickly ushers Case into the hallway.
He sees the bag of kibble on the floor and hefts it up in a one arm-scooping motion.
Then he removes the cloth bag from the crook of my arm and guides me in with a chin tilt, and the door slams shut on a muffled “Goodbye” from Case.
Still a bit awestruck, I stand mutely in the hallway as I watch Shaw amble through the living area into a large open kitchen, where he sets the bags down on the counter with a plop.
The apartment is completely different in setup and style than the one I share with Georgia, with vaulted ceilings and huge windows that overlook the city skyline to one side and the water to the other.
The only reason I can afford to live in this high-rise is because the condo is owned by Georgia’s very wealthy father, who gifted it to her as a college graduation present. As they say, thank God for friends with money.
“I hope now’s a good time…”
“I’m sorry about that…” Shaw says at the same time, looking a bit sheepish when he spins around to face me.
He leans back and grips the countertop edge, and my gaze does a sweep over his large hands.
They’re the type of hands that look like they could split wood, with sculpted knuckles and thick veins that run up his forearm.
An internal thrill coasts down my spine and splinters apart at the juncture of my thighs as I wonder how good they’d feel on me.
He clears his throat and the sound draws my gaze to his. I flush as a strange thread of awareness rushes over my body.
“Lyons can act like a juvenile most of the time, but he’s a good guy. And he’s excited to foster the dog.”
I smile broadly. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. It’s good to have him on board, otherwise it can lead to problems with roommates.”
I know from experience how important it is that both parties in a living situation are on the same page when it comes to fostering and adopting animals.
“Disagreeing viewpoints is one of the main reasons rescued pets get returned after adoption events. We end up having to rehome them because one of the partners isn’t willing to make the necessary changes that a new pet can require. ”
Goodness, I sound like I’m a Wiki page for what not to do with pet adoption as I regurgitate data. Shaking my head, I drop my eyes to the floor and wave a hand of embarrassment.
“Sorry. I have very strong opinions on this topic.” When I drag my eyes back to meet his again, I’m met by Shaw’s beautiful smile. It must charm the pants off every woman he meets and nearly has my knees buckling from its appeal.
“Don’t apologize,” he says, his voice soft with appreciation. “I think the work you do is beyond amazing. I sure couldn’t handle it.”
I chuckle and flap my hand in the air, moving away from the window and toward him. “Oh please. My job is nothing compared to the physical demands of your job. You pummel two-hundred-pound men on the ice for a living.”
My stomach quivers and somersaults as Shaw absently runs a hand through his damp, fresh-from-a-shower hair, which is a dark mahogany color with splashes of blonder highlights.
He stares at my lips quietly for a moment, and a small hum of electricity ricochets through me.
I break the spell by clearing my throat and point at the bags on the counter.
“I brought you some supplies to get you started once she is stable and comes to stay. The beauty of fostering is that you don’t have to spend a dime of your own money,” I say cheerfully, realizing only after that he probably doesn’t have an issue with the costs considering his profession.
“All you are required to provide is your time and attention.”
He snorts, sifting through the bag to pull out the various supplies. “That’s what I’m worried about. It’s the time I’m not sure I have enough of.”
Without thinking, I lay a hand on his forearm and give him a meaningful look. He’s warm and solid, and the intensity of his touch once again zigzags up my arm and then right into the apex of my body. Every single nerve ending zaps to life.
In other words, I go weak in the knees and swoon.
Suddenly, Shaw’s hand is around my waist, stabilizing me upright. “Emery? Are you okay?”
I let out a huff of laughter and tilt my head back to stare into his warm brown eyes that scan over me protectively. His full lips—covered with a hint of facial hair over his upper lip—are marred slightly with a frown. A muscle in his jaw ticks.
“I’m fine,” I whisper, but my words are faint even to my own ears.
And then somehow, we move closer, eliminating the space between us as he pulls me against his chest. My lashes flutter as I drink him in, trying to figure out how I’ve come to be in this man’s strong hold. I draw my lower lip between my teeth and his pupils flare.
Shaw lowers his head a fraction of an inch and my breath quickens when he raises a hand to cup my cheek.
“Emery, I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he says in a low, sexy tone, the sound vibrating against my chest. Waves of excitement crash through me, and I’ve once again misplaced my equilibrium. The earth shifts under my feet.
I inhale deeply, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Me, either.”
Pushing up onto my tiptoes, I sling my arms around his head and clasp my hands at the base of his neck. I open my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing comes out. Instead, Shaw’s mouth descends upon mine.
Crashes is more like it. Urgent and hungry, an exploratory kiss that opens a door deep inside me that has been closed for so long.
My eagerness to taste more of him is almost embarrassing.
The press of his lips and the gentle glide of his tongue send spirals of ecstasy racing down my spine. I lose myself in the spearmint taste of his mouth, the light woodsy scent of his body wash, and the gentle burn of his stubble.
Never has a kiss rendered me so unable to move or think. Something like this has never happened to me. I’m not a meet a guy and kiss him all in a span of a few hours kind of gal. I’ve never had a one-night stand or done anything that wasn’t thought through and calculated on my part.
This kiss from Shaw is the very definition of having your breath stolen. I’m completely out of my mind with need.
Shaw Benning knows how to sweep a girl off her feet.