Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Laney

I don't know what I expected.

But I know it wasn't this.

Hope Acres is gorgeous. Stunning.

Lawson Cove has some nicer parts of town. Gated neighborhoods with sprawling lawns and backyard pools and those little signs that warn you each house is monitored with its very own security system.

This isn't like that. It isn't opulent, though the farmhouse does look like it's been recently remodeled. It's glowing white in the late afternoon sunshine, and the front porch is covered in pots overflowing with white and blue blooms. On either side of the house, lush green pastureland lined with white split-rail fencing extends in either direction. Off to the right, an enormous red barn with white trim that matches the fence is nestled up against the tree line, the terrain cutting steeply upward to the Blue Ridge Mountains.

I spin around, taking it all in .

As far as I know, Adam doesn't have another job, and there's no way a nonprofit dog rescue could bankroll a place like this.

Family money, maybe? A random lottery win? If he hadn't already told me he grew up in Tennessee, I might assume the land had always been in his family.

Still, there are a lot of ways people wind up with money, and none of them, at least in Adam's case, are any of my business, so I shove the thought aside and crouch down to greet the golden retriever who's wandered over to say hello. She's actually more red than gold, my favorite variation of golden retriever, and her nose is speckled with a healthy dusting of gray.

"That's Marigold," Adam says. "Or just Goldie for short."

"You aren't very golden, Goldie." I scratch the dog under her chin. "But you're still a pretty girl, aren't you?"

Goldie sits and lifts her paw to shake, looking over at Adam like she wants him to see the gesture.

"Look at you!" I say, shaking her paw.

Adam chuckles. "She likes you. And she wants me to know she likes you."

"It didn't take her long to decide." I stand back up, one hand still resting on Goldie's head.

"She's old enough to be a good judge of character. Which tends to stink for people she doesn't like." He opens the back door of my sedan and pulls out the travel crates full of puppies.

I try not to stare at the flex of his forearms as he does so, but it's a losing battle. When he bends over to set the crates on the ground, I have to shift my gaze to the fluffy clouds overhead. It's too soon to be ogling this end of him, isn't it? I already incriminated myself in the car when I talked about him being so datable. The last thing I need is to get caught staring.

He opens both crates, peering inside, I assume to make sure the puppies are all well, then moves toward the porch. "Let me grab the keys to the Gator, and we'll drive them back to the barn. Do you need anything? Water?"

"Water would be great," I say.

He's back outside in a matter of seconds, a cold bottle of water in one hand and a dangling set of keys in the other. We settle into an oversized all-terrain golf cart, the crates of puppies secured on the back, and I try not to be distracted by the warmth of Adam's arm pressed against mine or the subtle woodsy scent that keeps tickling my nose.

It doesn't really seem fair.

A man who has been wrangling puppies all day long shouldn't smell like a pine forest after it rains with a side of heaven and a sprinkling of sexy.

Or maybe that's just pheromones talking?

I have no idea how it's even possible.

Pretty sure I still smell like Fifi's anal glands.

Oh my gosh. Do I still smell like Fifi's anal glands? I hunch my shoulders forward and try to sniff my scrub top, but I can't detect anything. Surely Percy wouldn't have let me leave if I did. I shift my nose over to one shoulder, then the other.

Adam looks over and lifts his eyebrows. "Are you smelling yourself?"

"No!" I answer much too quickly. Then I wince because clearly I was, and clearly he saw me. "Yes?" I admit. "I'm a little concerned I still smell like Fifi."

"Fifi?"

"More specifically, Fifi's anal glands. "

Adam barks out a laugh that warms me from the inside out, though, at this point, that could also just be my embarrassment. I nudge Adam with my shoulder. "Stop laughing! He's a very grumpy chihuahua, and it's an absolute ordeal to treat him, and I'm sure you know how much the stench can linger."

"I do know," Adam says, nudging me back. "If it makes you feel better, I haven't picked up on any traces of Fifi." And then, because he clearly wants to make my heart stop right here in the middle of this pasture, he leans over and sniffs my hair. "You smell good, actually. Like…" He pauses, like he wants to get this right, and my skin prickles with anticipation. "Honeysuckle?" he says. "Or Jasmine?"

My cheeks heat as I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "A little of both," I say. "At least that's what it says on the bottle. You've got a good sniffer."

He grins in a way that makes me almost forgive myself for using the word sniffer , then we pull up in front of the barn. A chorus of barks cuts through the afternoon stillness, and Adam smiles.

"They know you're coming," I say.

He glances at his watch. "They know it's dinnertime." He parks the Gator and climbs out to retrieve the puppies. I follow him to the large sliding barn door, waiting while he unlocks and opens it.

Again, with the flexing forearms.

I am going to have so much to report back to Percy tomorrow.

Inside the barn, everything is clean and functional and spacious, with good lighting and regulated temperatures. A storage room occupies the front of the barn, plus a full grooming station with an oversized sink and hand sprayer. Dog kennels fill either side of the aisle, extending all the way to the opposite end. It's no wonder Adam's dogs always do so well. This place is state-of-the-art. He has everything he needs to keep his animals clean and happy and healthy.

We make fast work of returning the puppies to their mom, a beautiful black cocker spaniel with silky ears and friendly eyes, tucked into an oversized kennel closest to the door. She stands and stretches—she probably enjoyed a little alone time—then ambles over to her puppies, who immediately start scrambling over and under and around her. She leans down and licks the top of Ringo's head.

"That's a good mama," Adam says. "Good job, Aretha."

My eyes lift to his. "Aretha? As in, Aretha Franklin? Please tell me all of the dogs here have musical names."

Adam's lips lift in a small smile. "If they come with a name, I let them keep it. But if I'm naming them, music tends to be the theme."

"Oh my gosh. I need to meet them all. And how, in all the times you've brought in dogs, have I not made this connection?"

He shrugs and lifts his hat off his head, running a hand through his wavy brown hair. "I don't know. I think you've seen Elvis, Janis, Taylor. And that's just in the last few months."

I suck in a breath. "That's right! I did see Taylor. She's pregnant, right? Is she still here? Why didn't you tell me you named her after Taylor Swift?"

Adam chuckles. "I didn't think it was relevant." He moves down the narrow aisle between stalls. "She's right down here if you want to say hi."

The dogs bark, tails wagging, as we make our way down to where Taylor is lounging on an elevated bed in the corner of her enclosure. She lifts her head, tail thumping, but doesn't bother getting up. "She has, what, a week left?" I guess, based on the look of her. I can't remember exactly when I examined Taylor in the office, but it was early in her pregnancy.

"Closer to two," Adam says. "At least, according to the ultrasound."

"Can I go in and check on her?"

Adam nods. "Of course." He opens the door for me, and I make my way to Taylor, who shifts, sitting up a little taller as I approach.

"Hey, mama," I say as I scratch under her chin. I ease her back onto her side, slowly moving my hands to her belly. Taylor relaxes under my touch, but I'm still careful as I gently palpate her abdomen. She is full of puppies. "How many did we find on the ultrasound?" I ask over my shoulder.

"Four," Adam says. "Hey, she's actually had a little bit of a cough the last few days. Should I be worried about that?"

I give Taylor's belly a final pat. "That's not all that uncommon this close to the end. It's probably just a little bit of acid reflux. If it really seems like it's bothering her, we can start her on an antacid until she delivers." I look up at him over my shoulder. "I've got some samples at the office I can give you if you end up needing them."

Adam moves in behind me, crouching down close enough for me to catch his delicious scent one more time, and scratches Taylor's head. "I appreciate that. I'll keep an eye on her."

"Do you have any idea about the breed of the sire?"

"Not a clue," he says. "I picked her up at the county shelter, and she'd been dumped on their doorstep. Probably because of the pregnancy."

"You're going to have your hands full," I say. "Two litters of puppies at once?"

Adam only shrugs. "It's easier out here than it is at the shelter. We have the space. And plenty of volunteers to help socialize them before adoption."

I sink back onto my heels. "Puppy socializing sounds like the perfect way to volunteer."

Adam stands, then holds out a hand, a clear offer to help me to my feet.

I slip my fingers into his, immediately noticing and appreciating his warm, strong grip. No clammy fingers here, ladies. Just add it to the freaking list.

"You're welcome to come socialize puppies anytime you want," Adam says.

I don't know if he means it to sound like a very sexy invitation or if I'm reading way too much into things, but my heart rate immediately spikes, pumping so hard, I wonder if Adam can see it pounding through my shirt.

Now that I'm fully upright, I'm standing very close to him, and I suddenly wish I were wearing something besides scrubs. That I'd given myself more than a cursory glance in the mirror before I hurried out to the parking lot to see if he needed help. That I could muster up even a sliver of confidence now that his bright blue eyes are looking down at me and the heat from his body is washing over me in delicious waves.

I clear my throat. "Did, um…dinner?"

His eyes narrow. "Dinner?"

At first, I can't figure out why he looks so confused. Then it occurs to me that my inability to clearly form a sentence probably just gave him the impression that I'm trying to ask him out. "Dogs!" I shout, loud enough to make Adam wince and trigger another chorus of barks from the kennels surrounding us.

Get a grip, Laney. And quickly.

"Sorry," I manage to say, taking a deep breath before trying again. "I only meant, didn't you say it was dinner time for the dogs?"

"It's close to it," Adam says. "But they can wait if you need to go. I'd love a ride back to my car, and I don't want to make you wait."

"No, no, I don't need to go," I say. "I can help, even. And…" I look around the expansive barn. "Is there more to see? I'd love to see all of Hope Acres."

Adam smiles. "Help would be great."

It's probably too soon to tell him I'd likely help him with anything, but I can absolutely confirm: I am suddenly and completely smitten with Adam.