Page 4 of Wild Bred

I intercept him, pulling the container out of his reach. “Sorry, Justin. These aren’t for us. I made them for Reid, to make amends for Daisy’s antics yesterday.”

Justin’s mouth falls into a straight line. “You couldn’t have made extra?”

“What am I, a cookie factory?”

“Jeez. I’m sorry for liking your cookies.” He gives me his best puppy-dog eyes. “Can’t I just have one? It’s not like he’ll notice.”

I sigh and pry open the container, thrusting it toward him. “Fine. Take one.”

I don’t feel great about letting Justin take one of Reid’s peace-offering cookies, but it’s better than dealing with him being mopey all day. When Justin’s in a bad mood, it affects his work, and I rely on him to keep the sanctuary running smoothly. He’s my only employee.

“So what’s this guy like, anyway?” Justin asks as he chews a bite of cookie.

I picture the man I met yesterday, his six-foot-plus muscular frame igniting a warm feeling in my lower stomach. There’s nothing hotter than a scowling man covered in dirt and sweat, and my new neighbor fit the bill to a tee. Okay, I didn’t love how standoffish he was toward Daisy, but his reaction was understandable, and I bet if I showed him why I do the work that I do, he might see things differently. Or at least that’s my hope.

“He’s…rugged,” I tell Justin. Thoughts of Reid’s robust biceps engulf my mind, especially the way his t-shirt strained over his muscles. I clear my throat, pressing my fingers over the lid of the cookie container, making sure it’s sealed tight. “He’s renovating the house on the hill. His brother was also there helping out. That’s really all I know so far.”

“So far? What, are you planning on befriending this guy?”

My lips flatten at Justin’s jealous tone. It’s no secret that he has feelings for me. I’ve made it as clear as possible that I only see him as a friend, but he can’t seem to get over it.

“He’s our new neighbor, Justin,” I say. “I want to be on friendly terms with him.”

Justin shrugs, shoves the rest of the cookie in his mouth, and turns back to the monitor that displays live feeds from the surveillance cameras installed across the sanctuary grounds. I’m annoyed at Justin’s behavior, but I don’t have time to deal with it right now. I have an endless number of tasks to take care of around the sanctuary, and I want to run the cookies over to Reid before I get to work.

“I’ll be back soon,” I say, grabbing the container and my walkie-talkie.

“Yup,” Justin says cooly.

I can hear the sharp crack of wood splintering as I approach the dilapidated house on the hill, a sound that makes my heart race with anticipation at seeing Reid again.

But it’s the grunting that really undoes me.

Outside his front door, I pause, listening to the deep, masculine grunt he lets out moments before another crash booms inside and more wood violently fractures. From the sound of it, he’s working alone today, without his brother’s help. My thighs warm, and I feel the urge to keep listening to him work, but I raise my hand and knock on the weathered door.

“It’s open!” he yells.

I push open the creaky door and step inside, the scent of dust and old wood immediately hitting me. The inside of the house is just as much of a mess as it was when I was here yesterday. I follow the sound of Reid’s laboring and find him in what used to be the house’s living room. He’s standing in the middle of the room with a sledgehammer in hand, looking out of breath, his shirt clinging to his chest.

He turns to look at me, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Oh. It’s you.”

“I brought you some cookies,” I say, holding out the container. “To apologize for Daisy causing trouble yesterday.”

He studies me for a moment before setting down his sledgehammer and walking over. His hands almost brush mine as he takes the cookies. “Not necessary. But thanks.”

“They’re vegan,” I say, smiling.

He breathes out a quiet laugh. “Of course they are.”

“Also,” I say, pulling a small scrap of paper from my pocket, “here’s my phone number, in case you ever need to get ahold of me.”

“Right. Yeah, that’d be good to have. I’ll, uh…give you mine, too.” He clears his throat. “So, you run some kind of animal sanctuary?”

I brighten at his question. “Yep. We take in all sorts of animals—exotic pets people can’t handle, injured wildlife, you name it. We rehabilitate them and, if possible, release them back into the wild. For those that can’t return to their natural habitats, we offer a permanent, safe home. The non-releasable animals serve as ambassadors for wildlife conservation, helping to educate the public. Daisy, for instance, plays an important role in teaching people about issues with the exotic animal trade.”

“I see.”

“I’d love to give you a tour of the sanctuary sometime,” I say. “I know you’re busy working on this house, but when you’re in need of a break…”

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