Blurb:

Wesley Ryan’s fond memories of the small Ozark town of El Dorado Springs gives him the confidence to leave his city life and failed relationships for a new start. Seeking a safe place, Wesley moves into his grandparents’ old home and takes over the local veterinary clinic.

Travis Bennett perseveres in raising his three children and managing his business, but the death of his wife four years earlier has left him a shell of the man he used to be. Every day, every minute, is an aching emptiness. Finding love again seems far out of reach, not that Travis would even consider looking.

When an early morning visit from Travis and his dog stirs feelings in Wesley, pushing them away is the safest course—the last thing Wesley needs is to fall for a man with baggage.

Life, however, has other plans.

Buy link:

Amazon

 

At the sound of a car door slamming and feet crunching across the frozen gravel, Wesley closed the browser window. The last thing he needed was a client catching him browsing for scarves at Neiman Marcus. He’d just found the perfect gold and brown cashmere. Dammit. With another click, he brought up the appointment schedule screen.

The front door of the clinic banged open, smashing against the wall.

“Oh, sorry, Wesley.” Travis gave a sheepish shrug and closed the door with extra caution.

It took a second for Wesley’s mouth to catch up with his brain. He’d not heard a word from Travis in days—not since Simone’s.

“Is Dunkyn okay?”

Confusion crossed Travis’s expression, then cleared. “Yeah. Dunkyn’s fine. About ready to start playing with the buffalo, I bet.” He took a few steps toward the counter, dripping snow and water over the floor. His jeans were soaked from the knees down. The man looked like a complete mess. His complexion was blotchy and his face was kinda puffy. His eyes were bloodshot and appeared painful.

Maybe if Travis had looked like this when they’d first met, Wesley wouldn’t be as smitten with him. He looked a bit homeless, and maybe a little crazed.

“Are you okay?”

Travis ignored his question and placed both of his hands on the counter like he was bracing himself. He sucked in a ragged breath and held it for a second. “Go on a date with me.”

Then it was Wesley’s turn to hold his breath. Choke on it, more accurately. “What?”

“Go on a date with me, Wesley.” Travis closed his eyes, then opened them again, staring directly into Wesley’s eyes.

Travis looked desperate, near a panic. The feeling was contagious. Beads of sweat broke out over Wesley’s body.

Another exhale. Travis’s breath washed over Wesley’s face. It had a faint sour tinge. “I’m not doing this very well, I’m sorry. It’s been a while.” He swiped his hand over his jaw. “Would you please go out on a date with me, Wesley? To dinner or a movie or something?”

Wesley’s heart began to pound in his throat. It leaped right up from his chest and into his throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone actually speak. He nodded, rather stupidly. He thought he might have tried to say yes, but nothing came out. He nodded again.

The smile that broke over Travis’s face was both ecstatic and terrified. If Wesley could have formed a complete thought, he might have laughed. “Good.” Travis nearly panted. “Pick you up Wednesday? Six?”

Still unable to form words, Wesley nodded.

“Great. See you then.” Travis turned and, without so much as a look behind him, walked out the door, making sure not to bang it this time.

Wesley watched Travis’s hulking form through the window as he walked to his truck, pushed Dunkyn over from where he’d apparently been curled up in the driver’s seat, hopped in, and then drove way.

He was fairly certain Travis Bennett had just asked him on a date. He kinda even thought he’d said yes.

He wasn’t aware he was smiling until he realized his cheeks were beginning to hurt.

Huh. A date. With Travis.

The Neiman Marcus scarf was forgotten.

Brandon Witt received his roots in the Ozark, grew wings in Denver, and is learning to fly in New Orleans. When not snuggled on the couch with his two dogs and his partner, Stephen, he is more than likely in front of his computer, nose inches from the screen, fingers pounding the keys.

 

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