Page 7 of Unexpected Temptation

“Ogling.”

I turn away, but I can still see her imprinted on my mind. She’s wearing black pants and a white shirt that emphasize her curves. It’s got me stirring in all kinds of ways. I never expected to see her here.

“I need to get this one back to the station,” Tank says, patting Tiger on the head. “Just … don’t do too muchovertimeyourself, okay?”

I shake my head at him. He knows I’m not going to say anything about my other line of work, the nighttime jobs, and the things I prefer not to think about.

The nightlife with Raffie isn’t glamorous, but it’s the means to an end that matters most to me. Every dollar I earn from those shady deals, every hush-hush transaction in dimly lit alleys, it’s all for them—the dogs. Those abandoned, mistreated souls that nobody wants. The ones with eyes that speak of abandonment and hearts that still yearn for love. They don’t care where the money comes from. They just need someone to care for them.

In my head, I hear Tank saying, “Are we just talking about the dogs here …”

A second later I forget all about Tank, my legs carrying me toward the woman and Loki. She looks up when I approach. Her face changes like a wall is falling. She’s still smiling, but her eyes narrow, like she’s judging me on some level.

“Tristan,” Simone says. “This is … I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Maya,” the woman says. Her name fits her to a T, Maya meaning “dream,” and she sure is a vision.

“She asked about jobs. I told her we’re not hiring, but I wondered if she wanted a look around.”

“We’re hiring,” I say automatically.

“We are?” Simone says.

“Uh, yeah.”

I shouldn’t be doing this. Tank wasn’t talking crap earlier when he hinted at all the ways I’m financially screwed. This place is outlandish—so much to pay for.

Simone looks over her shoulder when the bell rings, clearly keen to return to her desk.

“I can handle this,” I tell Simone.

“This,” like she’s not a person or something. I wonder if I’ve offended her. I hope not.

Maya smiles down at Loki. “My house is at least seven miles from here, boy. What’re you thinking, huh?” She looks back up at me, that guarded expression returning. I don’t think she’s doing it on purpose. “This little one goes wandering if you didn’t know. He’s found his way to my house at least ten times now.”

“He’s the smartest terrier I’ve ever met.”

“Met—like he’s a person.”

She smiles. I can tell she likes that I’d think of him as a person. I think of how perfect she looked when Loki cuddled beside her last night.

“He might as well be one,” I say. “He’s so clever.”

She’s tried to shut that smile away, but it’s tugging at the corners of her mouth. I want to know more about her for some reason. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Always have, with women. I’ve always had a reason to. If you happen to be born a man like me, you learn to accept when you are young that you’ll always be alone. There’s just something too stubborn in my head. Too critical. It’s taken me thirty-seven to realize that.

Shecouldmake a damn fine dog handler. Why not? That’s something different altogether. She is after all great with Loki.

“There isn’t really a job, is there?” she says. “It’s okay. You don’t have to humor me.”

I gesture at Winston, who’s wandered over, his face scrunched up as he drools and moves closer to Maya. What a beautiful name that is, too, Maya. “That’s his version of smiling.”

“Lucky me,” she says, but she strokes him anyway, slobber and all.

“I meant it. We’re hiring.”

She rolls her eyes at me, so sassy. “Don’t play me.”

“I’m not.”

---