Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Or …” He grunts as he reaches over the counter a little more, causing my eyes to snap right back to his cute butt. “You can come and say hello to Luigi De Magistris Baldassarre with me.”
“Luigi De … who …?”
“The adorable lil’ bunny I’m lookin’ after.” He glances over his shoulder at me. My eyes snap to his face like a guilty boy swiftly withdrawing his hand from the cookie jar. “The Shannons are off visiting family in Louisiana for the holidays. Y’know how it is.”
I clear my throat. “Not really. Animals aren’t my thing.”
“Animals are my only thing.”
I lift an eyebrow, belatedly hearing what he said. “Wait. You work here? At the front desk? You’re not the actual vet, right …?”
Samuel chuckles, likely at my surprised tone of voice. “Nope. That’s my boss Omar. Omar King, you know him? He lives closer to Fairview than Spruce, he and his husband. Thought you might.”
“No, never met him,” I answer, still stupefied.
“He handles the big stuff ‘round here. Ranches need help with their animals all the time. Horses, sheep, and big oinkin’ pigs get sick, too. I’m a vet tech, but going to school during the fall and the spring to be a vet someday. Sometimes I’m called on for housecats and cute lil’ gerbils, but I’m limited in what I can do just yet.” He folds his arms on the counter, his butt still sticking out, and he smiles my way. “Scared off, yet?”
I’m having to reconcile a lot of thoughts in my head in a short amount of time. “I thought you were just Nadine’s handyman.”
Samuel shrugs. “I’m a lot of things. I like to keep it open.” He spins around and props both of his elbows on the counter behind him. “Got a big ol’ college degree and everythang,” he says with an extra, mocking twang in his voice.
I’m quickly realizing I might not know this guy at all.
Maybe I judged him too quickly.
And yet still, I find it impossible to give him any more benefit of the doubt than I already have. This is the same guy who felt me up while I was held prisoner by a Christmas tree. He’s still handsy, presumptuous, and deeply annoying.
Which begs the question why I agreed to come out with him to run these errands at all.
Is he really the guy Nadine wanted to set me up with?
“C’mon,” he says with a nod of his head. “Let’s go check on Luigi De Magistris Baldassarre. It’s what I came here for anyway, other than to peek at the emails and see if Olympus’s in labor yet.”
I won’t ask who or what Olympus is. I just decide against all odds to follow Samuel. As we pass down the hallway, I see his face in a picture on the wall by a certificate—Samuel Buckley, it reads.
I don’t know what to make of anything anymore.
We arrive in a wide room with a number of large, decorative cages everywhere. I notice a hamster in one of them, and upon our entry, it leaps onto the running wheel and starts going crazy, as if to show off for us. I keep my distance as I walk through the room, squinting, nose wrinkled up, refraining from breathing too deeply. I swear every stray bit of pet dander is slowly, villainously floating in the air toward my face, attracted to me like a magnet.
“You alright back there?”
I realize I’ve stopped halfway to where Samuel now stands, frozen in the middle of the room where I’m technically as far from any of the cages as I can be. “I’m fine,” I squeeze out.
“You do realize most of these cages are empty, right? There’s just Hamlet, the hamster you passed, and Mister Luigi De Magistris Baldassarre over here.”
I eye him. “You really like saying his full name a lot.”
“I practiced a butt load of times when they dropped him off,” admits Samuel with a wince. “Come on over, say hello to him. He’s really cute and cuddly, just like me.”
I roll my eyes and cross the room. I slow as I come close to this so-called Luigi, who is honestly a lot cuter than I was anticipating. Quiet, subdued, possibly even shy, the bunny has his face buried in Samuel’s arms as he holds him, his ears folded back. I stand some distance away, a hand gently massaging my chin, likely an attempt to ease my own anxieties about animals.
Samuel notices. “He won’t bite.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” I mutter dryly.
“Really, he won’t. You can even hold the little guy if you want. Super soft and cuddly.” Samuel gives me a coy smile. “Wanna?”
For a moment, I’m terrified at the idea. The next moment, I’m curious.
Then I meet Samuel’s eyes, see the mischief in them, and give him a look. “Is this one of your little ploys?”