Page 17 of Scoring His Obsession

“Proud of me? But you don’t really know me.”

He shrugs. “I see a hardworking woman who started her own business, who has her own physical store, and is clearly doing well with marketing.”

“That’s Tab’s department.”

“She’s being?—”

“Modest, I get that now,” Micah finishes Tab’s sentence without looking her way. He steps close to me again, and those same feelings that rose up when we were at the studio in New York are there again. “So, we’re both home…”

I swallow. “It looks that way.”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“I actually have a charity fundraiser to go to.”

His gaze belies a moment of disappointment. “I’m trying to figure out if you’re telling the truth or if you’re just not interested.”

“She’s telling the truth.”

I shoot Tab a look over my shoulder, and she immediately glances away, acting as if she’s doing something at the front desk and not straining to hear what we’re talking about.

Micah chuckles. “That’s good to know. I was beginning to think you were never going to give me a shot. I wouldn’t blame you. A girl like you…”

“A girl like me?”

“Beautiful. Strong. Motivated.”

“And you’re not?”

Micah scratches at the five-o’clock shadow on his jaw with a grin. “See, now you just fell into my trap.”

“What’s that?” I ask, heart pounding. Trapped is exactly what I feel like when I’m around him. Like I’m ensnared by his stare. Overpowered by his essence.

“I wanted to know what you really think of me.”

“You’re taller than I imagined.”

“I get that a lot.” His gaze tracks down my body and then back up. Instead of uniforms, Tab and I decided we would wear half aprons that we could keep dog treats in or small fabric samples. They have the Pet Thread logo on the front with three individual pockets across. I’m suddenly wishing we had decided on no real uniform at all. “Cute,” he says, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Is that Athena on your logo?”

I nod. “We had an artist draw it from a picture I took of her when we first moved into the apartment in Nashville.”

“My apartment,” Tab butts in as if she’s part of the conversation.

“Alright already. We don’t need to give him our entire life story.”

Micah steps even closer. His presence is like a shroud of heat, all-encompassing, stealing any rational thought. “I don’t need your life story yet,” he says, voice low. He places his sunglasses back on. “But it will end with us, Raeann Gorman.”

He takes his sultry voice and thought-stealing looks and walks out of my store. The bell above the door rings, and I melt to the floor. Theclick-click-clickof Athena’s nails against the tile greets me before she approaches and lies next to me, putting her muzzle on my shoulder.

“Are you dead?” Tab calls out.

“Nearly.”

“Good. While you’re there, check to see if we actually have two of the pink Paw Princess dresses in teacup.”

I turn my head to check that rack when she says, “Oh, and I told you so. He didn’t just text. He showed up.”

That. He. Did.

---