Page 13 of Unexpected Temptation

“Maya?” I say.

When she jumps, I feel like the biggest asshole. She looks up at me with a small smile, but she can’t hide the way her eyes glisten or the tightness when she forces a smile. I know her real ones from her fake ones already.

Standing quickly, she says, “Mr. Greene.”

I smile tightly. She’s looked me up, then, or the home, at least. “You can call me Tristan,” I tell her.

I’m not usually bothered when people call me by my surname. A lot of people prefer it. I’ve met men who wouldn’t call me anything else. Yet I don’t know about Maya; it doesn’t feel right.

In the office, I walk right to the desk, but she pauses and looks at the photos on the wall. There’s me with Odin, my service dog.

“He was yours?” she says, looking over at me. “He looks so clever.”

“He was. Even smarter than Loki, but don’t tell him I told you that.”

“What was his name?” she asks, seeming genuinely interested.

“Odin.”

“Like the Norse god?”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Just like Loki.” Her smile falters. She seems on edge, on the verge of running away. “Can I ask how you two bonded if that’s okay?”

This catches me off guard. “It’s … it’s a long story.”

She looks at me closely. “He must have been pretty special.”

Something’s eating her up. I can tell she’s upset. Her eyes are a bit red and slightly watery. Has she been crying?

I sigh. “All right, well, we met during training. He was smart and tough as nails. At first, he didn’t trust anyone, not even me.”

“How did you change that?

“Patience. I spent hours every day working with him—training, playing, just being there. One night, during active duty, we got into a bad spot: mayhem, chaos, just bad stuff.”

I don’t know why I’m opening up like this. I’m speaking so casually, and there’s something about how she looks at me, with no expectation at all, that makes me think Icantalk about this.

“That’s intense,” she says. “What did Odin do?”

“What he always did. He stayed by my side and kept the enemies at bay until help arrived. He saved my life that night and a lot more.”

My voice has gotten husky. I gesture to the chair opposite me, though a big part of me wants to walk over and wrap my arms around her. I ignore the insane, out-of-place instinct.

“Are you still interested in the job?” I say, changing the subject.

She laughs strangely. “Veryinterested.”

“You said you needed flexible hours?”

“Not anymore.”

“Wait, you lost your job?” That would explain the tears. “When?”

“Just now,” she says in a numb voice that has me feeling pissed. The world’s a damn cruel place, and I usually don’t let my heart bleed for every suffering person. Yet, I find myself wanting to make life easier for Maya. “Literally before I came here.”

“Why?”

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