All I Want Read online

  enough to escape the humiliation, but probably not. Dammit. She’d kissed a perfect stranger, just accosted him on her doorstep. And . . . now her chest hurt. Maybe an impending heart attack would explain her behavior. Holding her chest, she used her other hand to point at him to stay. “I just need a minute,” she said.

  And then slammed the door in his face.

  Behind her, in the living room, a brick fell from the ancient old fireplace. It did that every time she slammed the door. She’d tried to get someone out here to fix it but the contractor had wanted her to promise her firstborn, so she’d just decided not to slam the door anymore.

  But she kept forgetting. Note to self: Stop kissing strangers, and stop slamming the door. She ran to the kitchen, where she’d left her cell phone, and pounded out her brother’s number.

  “Yo,” Wyatt said in greeting. “Hear you’re going out with some dentist guy tonight. Watch where he puts his hands. You don’t know where they’ve been.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. Her siblings gossiped like a pair of old ladies. “You’re a veterinarian,” she pointed out. “God knows how many worse places your hands are all day long. Maybe I should tell Emily to watch where you put your hands.”

  Wyatt just laughed. Since Emily—the love of his life—was also a vet, it had been an idle threat and they both knew it.

  Zoe sucked in a deep breath. “Listen, about your friend, the one who’s coming to stay—”

  “Yeah, Darcy told you he’s coming early?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said with what she thought was a perfectly even voice.

  But Wyatt had been seeing right through her for years. He was the only one who could. “Zoe,” he said in his most annoying brother voice. “You’re going to be nice. You promised. At least until I get back to Sunshine.”

  “Yeah,” she said, and grimaced. “About that . . .” She closed her eyes. “I might be a little short on nice as it turns out.” Try hoochie-mama on for size . . .

  “Shit, Zoe. He’s there already? What did you do?”

  “Hey, I didn’t do anything.” Well, except kiss him.

  And then slam the door on his nose . . .

  Crap. “So . . . just how good a friend is this guy again?”

  “Very,” Wyatt said. “We met in college when we were bartenders at the same place. On my first night, we got jumped at closing by five drunk assholes. Parker saved my ass. Haven’t gotten to see him in years, though, so don’t chase him away before I get home.”

  She grimaced again. “Gotta go.”

  “Zoe—”

  She disconnected. “Oops,” she said. “My bad.” She glanced at herself in the microwave glass door. “Go make nice,” she told her reflection. She turned to do just that, stopping to grab one of the cooling chocolate chip cookies she’d baked earlier. She was a great cook but she’d never been much of a baker. Determined to change that, she’d used one of her grandma’s recipes—Zoe’s first-ever batch that wasn’t from the grocery store’s frozen aisle. She took a bite . . . and nearly gagged. They tasted like baking soda.

  She spit the disgusting thing out in the sink and rinsed it down. Okay, so her baking needed a lot more work.

  And maybe your attitude.

  Brushing the crumbs from her hands, she went back to the living room. She let out a heavy breath and once again opened the front door.

  Parker was crouched low, chuckling over Oreo, who’d stayed outside with her new roommate and was sniffing at the guy’s proffered hand.

  “He’s not much for new people,” Zoe warned. “And especially not much for men. He’s a rescue and—”

  And nothing because Oreo jumped into Parker’s arms and licked Parker’s chin.

  Traitor.

  Parker winced as he lowered Oreo back to the ground, but the pained expression vanished so fast Zoe wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. “Are you hurt?”

  “Cracked a few ribs a couple of weeks ago,” he said lightly. “Still a little sore, that’s all.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “Wrangling some big-game poachers.”

  She stared at him. “Is that code for none of your business?”

  “I don’t talk in code.” Mr. Mysterious rose to his feet, Oreo in his arms like he weighed nothing instead of one hundred pounds of tubby Bernese mountain dog.

  “Careful,” she said. “You’ll hurt those ribs.”

  “I’m fine.”

  The statement was so alpha male to the core that she laughed. “Of course, you’re fine. You’re a man. Good to know you’re all equally pigheaded.”

  Not insulted in the least, he grinned. “You have us all figured out, then?”

  “Not that much to figure out,” she said.

  Those sharp green eyes held hers. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

  The words brought a quiver to her long-neglected lady parts, but she was pretty confident he couldn’t surprise her. But then he let Oreo lick his face again.

  “A real watchdog you’ve got here,” he said fondly, and set Oreo down with one last body rub.

  Well, damn, she thought reluctantly. She had to give him at least a few brownie points for loving up on her big old silly dog. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s a real killer.” She slid the killer a long look.

  Oreo pretended not to see it, which only served to prove her point about men . . .

  “So,” Parker said straightening. “Can I come in yet or do you want to slam the door on my nose again?”

  She felt her cheeks flush but met his gaze.

  He held it prisoner with his warm, patient one and waited her out.

  Great, he was also a man who knew the value of silence. She’d never met anyone like him, that was for sure. “You can come in,” she said, deciding to pretend that the past few moments had never happened, hoping that he’d already forgotten them.

  Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt . . .

  Two

  Parker James followed the pretty—and crazy—brunette into the house, his lips still tingling from the touch of hers. He wondered about the missing dentist and why she’d kiss the guy if she’d never even met him—not that it mattered to him.

  He’d reaped the benefits. And now he was left to wonder if his insta-attraction to her was thanks to the surprising welcome, or the universe’s way of messing with him since she was his old buddy Wyatt’s sister. Hell, maybe it was just one of life’s little mysteries.

  “Help yourself in here,” Zoe said when they’d entered the kitchen. She turned to face him and for the briefest of beats her eyes flicked to his mouth and he knew she was thinking about the kiss, too.

  “Thanks,” he said. “But I probably won’t be around much.”

  “Wyatt said you’re on vacay. What brings a guy to Sunshine, Idaho, for a vacation?”

  Much more than he was willing to share, starting with the fact that forced leave would’ve been far more accurate than vacay. “Peace and quiet,” he said.

  She looked at him from fathomless light brown eyes that appeared to be as good at hiding her thoughts as his own were. Good for her. She was interesting, his temporary landlord, he’d give her that.

  And she tasted good, too.

  “Wyatt also says that you work for the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service,” she said, watching him carefully. “And that you travel around a lot.”

  Close enough, he supposed, even if it was an understatement on all counts. He was actually a supervisory special agent, or RAC—Resident Agent in Charge. It was his division’s duty to enforce the many federal conservation laws in place to protect endangered species and other forms of wildlife. He did so by investigating and infiltrating wildlife trafficking rings, illegal guiding operations, and all matter of assorted other criminal groups.

  Since that often meant going undercover for cases that ranged from a simple buy-bust transaction to multi-month undercover stings, it was his usual MO to leave out the details. “Yep, I’m at the USFW service,” was all he said. Besides, this w