Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) (7 page)

“Sounds good.” His lopsided smile had her
heart beating against her chest.

Estie herded her dogs into the back yard
then returned and waited as Brett carefully opened the door to the
SUV and a wiry German shepherd cross slinked out the back door. He
cowered on the ground, his body plastered against Brett’s legs.
Estie’s mouth dropped opened when she noticed the poor thing had no
ears or tail. She lifted her gaze to meet those pale blue eyes that
hid so much, yet said it all.

Brett knelt down next to the shaking dog and
stroked his fur with a gentle touch. “I found him tied up with a
three-foot chain in Afghanistan, starving and with no water. They
cut off his tail and ears to use him for dog fighting. I
couldn’t—couldn’t tolerate those images in my mind. I’d lost one
companion and friend; I needed to save this one. I traded him for
cigarettes, took him to the base, and he stayed there until I was
shipped to the states. Puppies for Soldiers raised the money to
transport him to the US. He’s been with me ever since.”

“You rescued him from his fate.” She didn’t
ask about the ones he’d lost, time for that later—if there was a
later for them.

Brett nodded and looked away, but not before
she thought she caught the gleam of a tear in his eye. She fought
the urge to throw her arms around him and absorb as much of his
pain as humanly possible.

“Risky, you’re a good boy.” Estie knelt down
next to the shaking pup, careful not to make any sudden or
threatening moves. Instead, she waited for him to approach, even as
her heart bled for all he’d been through.

Risky wagged his stump of a tail and won
Estie over with that one little action.

“He wants to be friends, but he’s just never
gotten over the trauma of the abuse he suffered as a young
dog.”

Estie patted her thigh, and Risky shook his
tail again. Waiting patiently, she talked in soft, gentle tones.
Inch by inch he crawled on his belly until his nose nudged her
thigh. She kept talking, and he crawled forward a few more inches
until he laid his head on her leg and stared up and her with
soulful brown eyes. Oh, God, she’d fallen for this scared little
guy as much as she’d fallen for Brett.

She let Risky acclimate for a while, let him
sniff her hand until his shaking subsided, then she ran her palm
with a light touch over his wiry coat. He shuddered for a moment
then quieted. It took several minutes but finally he crawled in her
lap and licked her face. Estie glanced up to find Brett watching
her with the utmost tenderness. He managed a lopsided smile, that
same one that’d found a special little niche in her heart and
refused to vacate the spot, even though she’d supposedly hung out
the “no vacancy” sign. Seems that Brett Gunnels had rented an empty
room she didn’t know was there and filled it with his very
being.

“He never takes to someone that quickly.”
Brett said in a husky whisper.

“I have a way with animals. I always wanted
to be a small animal veterinarian.” Estie met his gaze and
acknowledged that kindred spirit with sad smile.

“Why aren’t you?” Brett looked so adorably
interested, more interested than Richard ever had.

She fought back a lump in her throat. Now
there was a loaded question, and she couldn’t come up with an
honest answer which made sense to anyone but her, because no one
else lived her life or dealt with all the screwy expectations of
her family and friends. “It’s starting to rain. Will he be okay
inside?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he will be. He’s never made
a mess.” They rose to their feet and Risky glommed onto Brett once
again. Brett held the leash—not that the poor dog was going
anywhere—and followed Estie into the house. One at a time they
introduced Risky to her two dogs. He immediately rolled on his back
and went into a passive role, but at least he didn’t pee all over
himself and the hardwood floor.

Finally, the dogs settled down while the
cats regarded the new interloper with the disdain only a cat can
show.

Estie put the pizza in the pre-heated oven,
tossed a salad, and poured them each a glass of good Eastern
Washington wine. Brett sat down at the small breakfast bar,
watching her, and in his typical quiet way, not saying much. She
could feel his eyes, feel the heat of his gaze and knew he found
her as attractive as she found him. God, she wanted to jump the
man’s bones, run her fingernails down his breastbone, his abdomen,
across his flat stomach and on into never-never-land. On the other
hand, never say never.

She couldn’t deny the chemistry. It’d been
instantaneous the minute she’d opened the door that first night and
stared into his pale blue eyes, seen his uncertainty braced up by
an inner strength that very few men held. Her animals adored him.
Spock and Jim left the comfort of their cat bed to check him out.
Brett didn’t seem to mind a bit as they rubbed orange and white cat
hair on his jeans. Estie grinned even wider.

“They really like you.”

“I’m a cat person
and
a dog
person.”

“And a bird person.”

“Not sure about birds yet.” Brett laughed, a
heartwarming sound. Spock leapt into his lap, while Jim wrapped his
big paws around Brett’s leg and hung on. Brett winced as Jim dug in
his claws but didn’t stop petting either animal.

“Meet Spock and Jim.”

“You’re a Trekkie, too?” Brett shook his
head, as if this news was too good to be true.

“Uh, yeah, I even love the originals. Seen
them all a dozen times.”

“Me, too.”

Lord, one more thing they had in common.

Brett rested his chin on his hands. “So what
made you decide to go into finance? The way you love animals, I’d
have thought you’d go that direction.”

Estie shrugged one shoulder and wiped crumbs
off the counter. Brett had asked the very question she’d buried
deep inside since her father died. No one had ever questioned her
choice of careers before. It’d just been assumed, since she had a
talent for numbers and details. “I started out keeping track of my
siblings and my piggy bank change, writing down every little thing.
From there it went to an after-school and summer job in high school
helping with the books in my dad’s firm. By the time I was
eighteen, I knew I’d go into finance.”

“I see. I’m thrifty, but not exactly
dedicated at keeping records, not that I spend much money. I don’t
even own a house, yet, just renting from a former teammate in
exchange for doing some repairs on the house.”

“I wish I was handy like that. I mean, I can
paint, mow the lawn, that type of thing, but I can’t really do home
repairs or—God forbid—run a skill saw without losing fingers.”

Brett chuckled and grabbed her right hand,
most likely an impulsive gesture, but she liked it. He made a show
of counting her fingers, his eyes sparkling with devilish
merriment. “You’ve managed to avoid saws so far.”

“I’m smarter than I look.” She shot back and
laughed.

“I think you look plenty smart.” He didn’t
let go of her hand but held it loosely in his calloused one. He had
surprisingly big hands for a guy his height—hands as big as
Tyler’s, and Tyler was six-foot-four. She could’ve pulled her hand
away, could’ve done the smart thing and kept her distance. She
didn’t. Their gazes locked, and there it went again—that thing that
stopped the world from spinning, her heart from beating, and her
brain from thinking.

The very thing she’d chalked up to
overactive hormones or wedding cold feet.

And that
thing
made her want to take
his face in her hands and kiss the hell out of him until they were
both giddy and reeling from heady emotions and intense chemistry.
Only that wouldn’t be enough. She wanted more. A lot more.

Look away. Look away now. Before you do
something you shouldn’t do.

She didn’t look away, but Brett did the
honorable thing and broke eye contact and let go of her hand.

Flustered, Estie pushed away from the
counter and opened the oven door. Thank God she hadn’t burned
dinner. She busied herself slicing the pizza while she calmed her
pounding heart and caught her breath. Her hand still tingled from
the touch of his fingers.

Brett said nothing as soft jazz music
floated around them. He glanced down when Marilyn sidled up to him
and put her head on his lap. Brett patted her and soft smile
turning up his lips at the corners. “Hey, gorgeous, where’ve you
been all my life?” Marilyn gave him her baby browns and leaned
against him, her doggy version of a come on. Brett grinned down at
her, as smitten with Marilyn as Marilyn was with him.

“Watch it, she’s a charmer. She’ll wrap you
around those paws, and you’ll be feeding her dog biscuits for
life.”

Brett looked up, his expression unreadable,
except for that ever-present hint of underlying sadness. “I’d like
that.”

Estie ducked her head and turned away. She
put a couple slices of pizza on two plates and slid them across the
counter. Brett washed his hands at the kitchen sink, joining her at
the counter. They munched in silence, while Marilyn, Risky, and
Dozer panted in the background. Spock and Jim sat on opposite arms
of the couch, tails switching.

It was a weirdly romantic scene for two
people dedicated to the animals they loved. If only Estie could
capture this moment and stuff it in a locket to keep close to her
heart.

* * * * *

Brett chewed on the pizza and stared at the
kitchen cabinets for the lack of anything else to stare at besides
Estie. He felt her next to him as strongly as if she were touching
him. Her sweet perfume floated around him, teasing his nostrils. He
glanced at Risky, who was lined up next to Marilyn and Dozer as
they all sat on their haunches waiting for a crumb to fall. Risky
appeared fully aware of the competition on either side of him, yet
still hopeful.

He watched as she aligned her napkin, fork,
and plate and almost smiled. He found her little habits oddly
endearing.

Brett stood and poured himself more wine and
snatched a few more pieces of pizza, taking his seat once again,
hyperaware of every move Estie made, every breath she took—even the
sounds of her chewing on pizza aroused him.

This was so fucked up.

She liked him as a friend and a fellow
animal lover. The woman was engaged, for Christ’s sake. Brett never
messed with married women, engaged women, or even women with
boyfriends. It was part of the code he’d lived by and always would
live by because if a guy didn’t have his honor, he had nothing—one
of the few good things his father had taught him over the
years.

Brett blew out a breath, not wanting to
travel down that guilt-ridden path. Despite living in the same
area, he avoided his family except for holidays, which were pure
hell. They pretty much left him alone even though they considered
him a rich NFL player. His parents lived on a retired Boeing
machinist’s salary, and his father gambled most of it away.

Brett felt Estie’s eyes on him, just like he
felt everything about her in this weird, crazy-assed way. “What?”
he asked.

“You look so serious. So…sad.”

“I’m not sad, just resigned.”

“Is it football?”

“No, family.”

“Ahhh.” Spoken like a woman who knew exactly
what he was talking about. “Can’t live with ’em and can’t murder
’em so what the hell do you do?”

“Avoid them?” Brett offered with a
chuckle.

“I could be so lucky. You’ve met my
brother.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” And he thought
he had family problems? He didn’t envy her a brother like that
one.

“He’d tell you the same thing. We scare
him—my sister and I.”

“No way.”

“Absolutely, especially Freddie. Crazy,
huh?”

“Hard to imagine.” Brett immersed himself in
her blue gaze and sank below the surface like a scuba diver
exploring the warm depths of a tropical reef. Estie’s smile lit up
his world, and he fought this overwhelming urge to take her in his
arms and carry her to bed where he’d make insane, passionate love
to her all night long. And never ever be the same man again, for
better or worse.

He broke her spell by bringing up the reason
he was here. “So tell me about Yappy Hour and what part I
play.”

Estie eyes lit up. She picked up her iPad,
opened up an app, and showed him her carefully planned out
spreadsheets and notes. He blinked a few times, amazed at how
nothing was left to chance.

“We’ll do it at the grange in Maple Valley
with a good-sized banquet room area. Adults only because there’s
alcohol, and the dogs we’re trying to adopt out aren’t all kid
safe. You’ll pose for pics with the guests for a small donation,
while the staff and I match people with their new pets via a speed
dating-type thing. It’ll be great fun. You’ll see. Seattle Singles
Club is one of our sponsors, along with Seattle-4-Pets, and of
course, my dear brother.” She pointed at each item in turn in her
careful notes.

“Tyler’s supporting this?”

“Well, his foundation is. Tyler works with
veterans in several ways, and one way is his pet therapy project to
help with PTSD.”

Brett could’ve been blown up with a roadside
bomb. “Tyler? Tyler Harris? The same guy who’s my teammate?”

“Tyler’s not anything like he seems.”

Brett digested this information for a
moment. “And you? Are you like you seem?”

“How do I seem?” She leaned closer to him,
as if she couldn’t help it.

Brett leaned closer, too. He feel her breath
on his face, could almost taste those red lips, almost—

Someone knocked on the door. Brett jumped
backward. Risky yelped and sprinted behind the couch, scared of the
noise. Dozer growled and Marilyn sighed. Spock and Jim turned their
backs on the entire episode, tails switching.

With a guilty start, Estie jumped to her
feet and hurried to the door, swinging it open.