This Crazy Love

4. Jackson

Chapter Four

Jackson

Shay stood in front of me. n***d. With the fluffy white towel in a rumple at her feet, every inch of her was bared to me. Her skin was flushed all over, with her golden hair damp and slicked back away from her face.

I couldn’t f*****g help it. I mean, my God, I don’t think any straight man could have kept from taking a nice long look at Shay. Her breasts were plump and full, her n*****s a deep dusky pink and tightening under my gaze. My eyes tracked the dip at her waist and the lush curve where her hips flared out. I managed to force my eyes up, although my c**k practically stood up and waved at her.

She gasped and leaned forward, snatching her towel off the floor and flinging it around her body. “Sorry!”

I wanted to tell her there was absolutely nothing for her to be sorry about, but I thought perhaps that wasn’t the right thing to say just now. When my eyes met hers, and I saw her cheeks flushed pink, the urge to kiss her was so strong, I had to order myself not to.

“I have to get dressed,” she murmured, dashing past me, the door to her bedroom slamming behind her.

My hands literally itched to reach for the doorknob and open it. Apparently, I may not have been able to control my c**k, which was so hard I could feel my zipper against it, but I could keep my hands to myself. Thank f**k.

I hadn’t even remembered why I was in the hallway. Turning, I walked back into my bedroom. Oh right, I meant to go downstairs and get another cup of coffee. It wasn’t reasonable, but I decided against it. I needed to get a handle on Shay being here.

Even though I’d only showered an hour ago, I took a cold shower and went downstairs. After getting that coffee, I headed to my office, which was upstairs in one of our renovated barns. This farm had been in my family for generations.

My father had passed away two years ago. To this day, I wasn’t quite so sure he hadn’t simply died of grief. The medical report said he had a heart attack. Yet, he never bounced back after my mother passed unexpectedly from ovarian cancer that was caught way too late, only a year prior to his death.

The property had been transformed from its working farm days with our new ventures. Since we had the space, we were one of the few rescue programs in the area for larger animals, such as horses, goats, and the like. That’s how we ended up with Mischief.

At the moment, we had eight horses, four dogs, five cats, seven chickens, two roosters, a few rabbits, a pair of goats, a mini pig that turned out not to be mini, and an actual mini pig. The pigs in question were both affectionate, and the small one, Squeaky, loved to follow people around. The not-so-mini pig was gigantic at this point. Gloria was everyone’s best friend, and meandered around visiting whomever she came across.

Pushing through the barn doors, I turned down the side hallway and jogged up the stairs. This was a newer barn. We’d renovated the two older barns roughly a quarter mile away, through some trees and over a small rise, into the adventure lodge with guestrooms and a large restaurant in the lower portion of one of the barns. A massive kitchen served guests as well as our staff. We ran tours for hiking and various wilderness adventures in the mountains surrounding the area.

There were a few small cabins scattered in the trees. Some were for guests and others housed staff who lived on-site, which was almost everyone who worked here. We had a staff of about fifteen between everything associated with the lodge, and running the rescue and office. Ash and I were both first responders and veterinarians, so that was something else layered onto the rest. Suffice it to say, we were busy. But our father’s vision to transform the farm had come to fruition.

It was safe to say I was never bored. I was also rarely distracted. Yet, today when I sat down at my desk to take stock of just what the hell I needed to do, my mind kept spinning back to the sight of Shay bare in front of me.

When Remy asked me if she could come here, of course I said yes. I hadn’t even hesitated. I knew Shay had been through f*****g hell. Plus, she was a friend—one of Ash’s closest friends and Remy’s younger sister.

I recalled thinking she was beautiful the last time I’d seen her, but then, I had successfully put her in the best-friend’s-younger-sister-don’t-you-dare-touch category. That, despite one crazy kiss years back, when she was in college. Somehow, I’d managed to shove that out of my mind and consider it a fluke. Now, I was quite sure that was going to be impossible.

My office phone rang on my desk, effectively nudging me into awareness. This line only rang for two reasons—outside calls for the vet clinic, or internal calls from anywhere on the sprawling lodge.

Dani Love’s name flashed on the screen. Dani ran the kitchen and helped out with managing guest reservations online. I didn’t know what we’d do without her. Tapping the speaker button, I said, “Hey, Dani, what’s up?”

“Hey, boss, we had a problem with an order of cheese. I’ve gotta head into town. Need anything else?” she asked.

Town, in this case, was Asheville, a good forty-five minutes away. “No, I think I’m all set at the house. Ash went a little nuts shopping for Shay last week before she left.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your friend is here. Are you going to bring her down to meet me today? You better,” Dani ordered.

I’d been in such a rush to leave the house, it hadn’t crossed my mind I would have normally planned to bring Shay around and introduce her to everyone this morning. I needed to get a grip and behave as I usually would. As unsettled as I was by my intense reaction to Shay, I needed to get it under control. Stat.

“Oh yeah, I need to take care of a few things here at the office, and then I’ll go get her. When do you think you’ll be back from town?”

“Before lunch.”

“Gotcha. How about I aim for lunchtime?”

“Perfect. I’ll make her something amazing.”

After I got off the phone with Dani, I threw myself into work for the rest of the morning. Fortunately, I had a few regularly scheduled appointments, including one with a geriatric diabetic dog, a rather rotund little black-and-white sweetheart of a mutt named Emma.

“Well, Emma, you did great today,” I said, scratching behind one of her ears as her tail thumped happily on the stainless steel examination table.

Her owner, Nana Tuttle, pretty much matched her dog. She was round and sweet with her once black hair mostly silver now.

“Nana, you’re managing her diabetes just fine,” I commented, glancing to her. Emma’s tail thumped again, her gaze expectant. “Oh, that’s right, you’re waiting for a treat.” Turning, I fished a small treat out of the jar we kept on the counter.