“I’ll give him the best life, I promise. Spoiled rotten, all day, every day,” the other guy said, and the genuine look in his eyes was my absolute undoing.
As if he could sense my impending emotional breakdown, Scout pressed harder, and I gave up, my ass hitting the asphalt under the big dog’s attention.
I wrapped my arms around Scout with a soft laugh, hiding the tears that flowed harder now. “You’re the best boy, aren’t you?” I whispered, nuzzling into his neck. “You’re going to have such a good life, I know it.”
I tried wiping my cheeks when I pulled back, because good Lord, I’d gone past humbling and into embarrassing as I sat in the parking lot, with four professional athletes watching me weep over these dogs. To be sure, this was not on my to-do list today.
Before I could try to stand with some semblance of grace, a large hand moved into my peripheral vision. Archer’s hand.
It would’ve been easy to wave him off. Say that I was fine.
Could I stand up on my own? Of course.
For this moment, though, I wanted to let him help me. It didn’t mean anything, even though finding my balance around him seemed to be a continual work in progress.
Give him the benefit of the doubt.
I let out a shaky sigh and slipped my fingers along the rough skin of his palm as his closed around mine, my stomach swooping when he tugged me to standing like I weighed nothing.
News flash: I didn’t weigh nothing.
Even worse, he didn’t let go of my hand right away. His thumb dragged along my knuckles while his gaze bored into mine. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, giving the other three a tiny smile. “This is the bittersweet part of rescue work.”
While no one spoke, they all glanced at Archer, and I rolled my lips between my teeth when he seemed unsure of what to say.
Brooks, I’d heard them call him, elbowed the younger guy, who gave him a helpless look.
“So, um, Remi, what are you looking for in a partner?”
“What?”
His cheeks were flame red, and the other two guys stared down at the ground, mouths covered by their hands. Archer sighed.
“I mean, in a boyfriend. Or husband or whatever.”
“Shut up, rookie,” Archer growled.
He shrugged. “I’m just trying to help.”
“You’re not.”
“Don’t you want to know this stuff?” he asked.
“Who does?” I asked.
“Fuck’s sake,” Archer muttered.
Brooks lost his battle, wheezing immediately. The third guy covered his face with both hands. “This is so fucking bad. No wonder your ass is single.”
“Doyouwant to know?” I asked.Whatwas going on? I’d exchanged less than five words with this guy.
It seemed unlikely—highly, highly unlikely—that I’d gone from zero male attention to having multiple athletes flirt with me in strange, unorthodox ways.
His eyes widened. “No. No, I don’t care.”
Smith groaned.