Page 62 of Don't Puck the Wrong Brother

"It was okay," I concede, fighting a smile.

We drive for about half an hour, the city giving way to countryside. Sanderson keeps the conversation flowing effortlessly, asking about my bio ethics presentation and actually listening to my detailed explanation of the moral complexities of genetic testing. Most guys would have glazed over two minutes in, but he asks insightful follow-up questions that make me wonder why he is so nice and kind and intuitive. All while being hotter than hell.

Finally, we turn onto a gravel drive leading to a large, barn-like structure surrounded by various enclosures. A wooden sign reads "Second Chance Wildlife Sanctuary."

"What is this place?" I ask as we park.

"An exotic animal rescue," Sanderson explains, looking pleased with himself. "They take in animals that were kept as illegal pets or retired from entertainment."

My eyes widen. "Are we…visiting?"

"Better." He grins. "We're getting a private tour. My friend works here."

"Sanderson," I say, genuinely touched. "This is so cool."

"Don't thank me yet." He grabs the cooler from the back seat. "You haven't met the residents."

A pretty girl around our age waves at us from the entrance. "Sandy! You made it!"

Sandy?She has an awfully warm smile and beautiful wavy hair. A pit is in my stomach as I look at her.

"Winnie," he greets her with a one-armed hug. "Thanks for doing this."

"Yeah, anything for you," she says, then turns to me. I don’t know who this friend is, but it seems like she may have been more than a friend at some point? I glance at Sanderson to see if he had something with her once upon a time. "You must be Hannah."

I smile, turning to her.Let it go."Hi, I’m Hannah. It’s nice to meet you, Winnie."

"Winnie's been working here for three years," Sanderson explains. "She's basically Dr. Dolittle at this point."

"Hardly," Winnie scoffs. "But I can tell when Max the lemur is about to throw his poop, which is a valuable skill. Trust me, you don’t want to clean that mess."

I picture that, wondering if Winnie would clean up Sanderson’s messes too.

God, I need to stop those thoughts right now.

"So, shall we start the tour?" Winnie gestures toward the building. "Most of the animals are inside for the night, but they're used to visitors."

For the next hour, we're introduced to the sanctuary's residents—a one-eyed bobcat rescued from a roadside zoo, a pair of capuchin monkeys who were kept as pets until they became too aggressive, a sulcata tortoise the size of a coffee table who was abandoned when he outgrew his terrarium.

Winnie gives us the background on each animal while Sanderson helps distribute treats from the cooler he brought. I'm impressed by how gentle he is with them, this big hockey player who's supposedly known for his aggressive style on the ice.

And yes, I am no longer entertaining the idea that something had happened between Sanderson and Winnie. If he can manage to not care about me dating his brother, I sure as heck can get over whatever jealously spiked in that parking lot.

"Here's the newest addition," Winnie says excitedly, leading us to an enclosure where a small, spotted wildcat is curled up on a branch. "This is Luna, a serval. She was confiscated from an apartment last month."

"She's beautiful," I breathe, crouching down to get a better look.

"She's also surprisingly easy to handle," Winnie says. "Would you like to feed her?"

My eyes widen. "Really?"

Winnie nods, handing me a pair of feeding tongs with a small piece of chicken. "Just hold it steady and she'll take it gently."

I extend the tongs toward Luna, who eyes me warily before approaching. She delicately takes the chicken, then retreats to her branch to eat it.

"I always wanted to work with animals," I admit. "Until my fainting incident."

"What happened?" Winnie asks, genuinely interested. She’s really not as bad as I thought.

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