All I Am. Nicole Helm

you? A bundle of sweetness.”

      A shadow stepped over the sun, and it didn’t take a fortune-teller to know that when she looked up at the looming figure, she’d come face-to-face with beard and eyes. “Sorry about her. Apparently she’s got a thing for you.”

      And what does her owner have for me? In another situation, like at the bar with her friends as an audience, she probably would have said it. “I don’t mind.” She gave Sweetness a scratch before standing up and moving away from the table where Mia and Dell were dealing with customers. “She escaped you to find me. I’m flattered.”

      “You must smell like bacon,” Wes replied, following her and Sweetness to a cluster of trees outside the main row of tables.

      “Or I’m irresistible.”

      He made a strange kind of grunting sound. “Come on, dog.” His voice was low and grumbly as he patted his thigh to grab Sweetness’s attention.

      It certainly caught Cara’s attention. It was a very nice, powerful-looking, denim-clad thigh. Get a grip. He might be hot, and that might usually be all it took for her to flirt with a guy, but she didn’t think she should get involved with someone rumored to be a hermit after being injured in the military.

      She wasn’t the nurturing, empathetic, there-there type. She was the suck-it-up-and-let’s-have-fun type. James had made it abundantly clear when he’d broken up with her that he was leaving because she wasn’t at all comforting or helpful when he’d been dealing with his friend’s suicide.

      And he’d been right. So, Mr. Wes Stone and his gruff bluster and fluster was way off-limits.

      Cara gave Sweetness a little nudge. “Go on with your grumpy daddy.” But Sweetness whined, pushing against Cara’s legs as Wes scowled at her.

      “You can borrow her,” he said in that gravelly voice.

      “Borrow her?”

      “Yeah. You said you were thinking about getting a dog. I have a couple of them I loan out. People wanting to see if their dog’s compatible with other animals, seeing if they can work a dog into their schedule, you know, before committing. It is a commitment.”

      “Tell me again why you don’t call yourself their daddy.”

      He narrowed his eyes, but there was humor in the look. “Not a daddy. Owner. Master.”

      It was probably her imagination that when he said master it sounded kind of dirty. And hot.

      Nope. For once in her life she was going to make the right decision when it came to a guy and just not go there. “So, I could really borrow her? For how long?”

      “I usually do a week. Lets people see how all aspects of their schedule would be affected and if they’ll get used to any hiccups. It’s not perfect, but it helps.”

      Sweetness yipped. “I don’t have any dog supplies or—”

      “I have a loaner kit. Food, treats, leash, you know.”

      “You really do this a lot?”

      “I don’t usually offer strange women my dogs for fun, no.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I have to get back to my booth. You interested or what? You can take her after the market. I might have a kit in my truck.”

      “Yeah.” Be nice to have a little company in her empty apartment, even if it didn’t speak. “Um, I have this interview thing in a bit. Could I pick her up from you this afternoon?”

      “From me?”

      “We can meet at a centralized, public location if you’re afraid I might peel off your skin and eat it.”

      “Skin...peeling?”

      She wouldn’t have pegged him as a guy with a great sense of humor, but there was a flash of one there. Maybe he wasn’t all gloom and doom? “I promise to keep it to a minimum.”

      He snorted. “All right.” Then he fidgeted. “Um.” He pulled a wallet out of his pocket, then a little business card out of the wallet. All black and white. Organic Dog Treats. Wes Stone. Website and phone number. “Call me when you’re ready to come, and I’ll give you directions.”

      Do not make a dirty joke. Do not make a dirty joke. “Yeah, okay.” And then because she couldn’t work it out, asked, “You seriously do this just because?”

      “I seriously do.”

      “You’re not trying to hit on me or something?” Because she couldn’t remember a time a guy had been nice just to be nice. To her, anyway. Her reputation in New Benton didn’t exactly lend itself to a lot of nice from the male population.

      He frowned. “If I was trying to h-hit on you, I would not do it by lending you an annoying little yap dog with a terrible name.”

      “Really? You don’t know much about women, do you?”

      She could have sworn that underneath the grizzly beard he was blushing.

      It wouldn’t be the first time she’d made a guy blush.

      “Well, anyway, I should be done by twelve-thirty.” She waved the card. “I’ll give you a call. I could definitely use a furry friend after this dumb interview.” All the good feelings Sweetness had produced faltered in the face of pre-interview nerves. So, she worked up her widest grin. “And I do mean the dog, though if that falls through, you’d be a good backup.”

      “Ha. Ha.” Definitely blushing. He turned and stalked back to his booth, and this time Sweetness listened and followed him.

      Cara looked down at his card. Okay, maybe flirting with him was inevitable, but she would keep in mind he was probably in a fragile mental state and she had no business being a part of that.

      At least she would try to keep that in mind.

      * * *

      WES THREW THE rope bone as hard as he could with his left hand. It veered into a cluster of trees, and he cursed. The pins and needles in his right arm were doing their dance, and he wanted to cut his own arm off to end the annoyance.

      His left hand and arm had gotten more usable with practice, but it had yet to give him the controlled response his dominant hand had before.

      He was going to have to go to the doctor again, and that made him want to pound his fists in fury. When would this be over?

      The headache throbbed behind his left eye. His arm bothering him caused stress, and that caused a migraine. A fun circle he didn’t know how to escape, even after four years of being stateside.

      When he heard the car in the distance, he knew it would be Cara, since he’d given her directions about forty-five minutes ago. He rarely let people come out here, but she’d sounded odd on the phone and his arm was bothering him, so driving out to her didn’t sound appealing.

      Now the woman he had no business fantasizing about was going to be at his house. To pick up Sweetness for a loan week. Not to enact any fantasies. Lame fantasies, at that, considering how little experience he had in that particular arena.

      His frustration simmered, his headache drummed. He’d get Sweetness loaded up with Cara, then he’d do some work. The methodical process of making dog treats, even when his arm sucked, was soothing. Possible. Not frustrating.

      He’d learned in the army that having a precise way of doing things eased his anxiety and stress. Which helped him deal with people and life.

      Cara stepped out of an old beige Toyota Camry. She wore black pants and high heels and a silky-looking green top under a black sweater.

      Had he really offered a loaner dog to someone he’d met twice?

      Yes, because she’s hot, and you’re very, very dumb.

      Well, and Sweetness liked her. Which wasn’t all that unusual. Sweetness preferred women, though she’d