If You Were Mine (The Sullivans #5)(4)

“Doing okay out there, big guy?” she asked Atlas.

She heard the loud thump of his tail on the pavement in response.

“Quite the little adventure Agnes sent us on, isn’t it?”

Which didn’t make sense. How could the man who was yelling and cursing at the puppy be a close friend of a lovely woman like Agnes? Having seen the woman interact with the dog she adored, Heather had thought her training client was more perceptive than that.

Suddenly, a wet tongue pressed into Heather’s palm and she looked down to see the puppy trying to climb onto her lap as it munched on the treat.

“Well, hello there,” she said to the very cute Yorkie.

Gently, she laid one hand on the puppy’s back and a happy sound came from its throat as it tried to burrow closer to her fingertips. Heather spent a few moments massaging the incredibly soft fur, but with the owner still yelling for his dog, she knew they couldn’t stay in here forever.

“How about we go find you a nice full water bowl?” And a much nicer owner, too, while we’re at it.

She cradled the dog in her arms to shield it from the branches and slowly began the backward procession out of the brambles. She laughed as the puppy licked her chin, even though the scrapes on her legs were going deeper on the way out than they had when she’d dived into the bush.

Heather was still in the process of awkwardly crawling out of the dirt on her hands and knees while holding on to the wriggling puppy, when she heard footsteps behind her, along with the renewed thumping of Atlas’s tail.

Turning her head as far as she could to try and look over her shoulder, she spotted a pair of large brown boots on the pavement beside her dog.

“Did you find the little bugger?”

Gritting her teeth, she replied, “If you’re talking about the puppy, yes, I found her stuck in this bush.”

Okay, so maybe stuck wasn’t precisely the truth, given that the dog had clearly been playing hide-and-seek, but what the owner didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, her allegiance was to the puppy in her arms, not to a man who clearly had no business owning it.

Heather continued to work on getting out of the bush, which, unfortunately, seemed intent on keeping her prisoner forever. Just a couple more feet and she’d be free to give the man in the brown boots a piece of her mind.

She felt a bead of sweat slide between her shoulder blades as she tried to lift her torso, but no matter how she tugged, she couldn’t move more than an inch in any direction. Frustrated with being on her hands and knees in front of a stranger, with her scratched-up kneecaps stinging like crazy, she yanked herself back. But apart from her shirt ripping at the side of her ribs, she wasn’t any closer to being free.

“Hold up, you’re caught on a branch.”

The man’s voice, when he wasn’t yelling at innocent puppies, had a rich, deep timbre that moved through her veins like potent red wine on an empty stomach.

She felt the stranger reach across her back to thread her T-shirt back through the branch that had taken hold of her. Did he mean for his fingertips to skim her spine? she wondered as she held her breath until he was done.

But whether he did or not had nothing to do with her reaction.

She shouldn’t have felt like a lover had just caressed her.

Heather waited for Atlas to growl at the man for daring to touch her, but instead, he just kept wagging his tail.

She couldn’t believe it. After a lifetime of distrusting all men everywhere, Atlas hadn’t decided to take an instant liking to this one, had he?

“All clear,” the man finally said. “Here, reach back for my hand and I’ll help you up.”

He didn’t give her time to agree or evade, he simply slid his calloused palm against her softer one, and pulled her to her feet. Her legs had been cramped into the tight position for long enough that blood rushed too fast to her calves and feet. Unsteady, she swayed against him, her shoulder pressing against his chest.

Her hand still in his, he said, “I’ve got you,” as he brought his other arm around her waist to keep her from tumbling with the dog in her arms.

She was shocked by how good it felt to have his arms around her. So stunned, in fact, that when he said, “I’ll take her off your hands now,” she almost let him take the puppy from her.

But despite how topsy-turvy her body was behaving, she hadn’t forgotten the way he’d yelled for the puppy, or how angry he’d seemed.

Heather took a step back out of his arms, finally pulling her hand free to hold the dog closer to her chest to protect it. “No,” she said as she finally looked up at his face, “I don’t think that’s a good id—”

Oh my God.

She took another step back, but this time it had nothing to do with the dog in her arms. Heather had never understood her friends who drooled over pictures of good-looking men, had always figured she wasn’t particularly visually oriented.

Now she realized it was simply that her gaze hadn’t landed on the right man.

Within five seconds of taking in his dark hair, his perfectly chiseled face, his blue eyes and broad shoulders, her heart started to pound too fast, her mouth dried out, her palms grew damp, and her breath quickened. Not to mention the fact that all of her girly parts were actually growing hot and tingly.

Not once in twenty-seven years had she ever been struck with such a visceral, physical reaction to a man.