“I can’t,” she repeated.
“Belle,” he said her name softly, his deep voice wrapping around it like an embrace and the effect made her shiver. He sounded like he was calling out to her even though she was on her knees right beside him.
She moved her eyes to the vicinity of his though she didn’t look in them. She looked mostly at his nose.
He had, she thought somewhat agitatedly, a very nice nose.
When she did this, she heard his delicious chuckle.
“Belle,” he repeated and, against its will, her gaze finally lifted to his eyes and when it did, he repeated, “Pick one.”
“I can’t have a German Shepherd,” she told him.
“Do you have another dog?” he asked and she shook her head, looking away and dropping her puppy to give belly rubs to two bundles who were happily squirming on their backs on the floor. “Do you have a cat?” he went on and she shook her head again. “Do you let your house and they don’t allow animals?” he pressed.
She finally spoke. “I own my place. It’s just that I don’t have a garden and my cottage isn’t very big. German Shepherds are large dogs. They need room to move.” She scooted closer and stroked Gretl’s head, continuing in a near whisper. “It’s nice of you to offer anyway. Very generous.” Her voice went even quieter before she murmured, “Thank you.”
With that, she stood.
She could take no more. She would prefer Miles’s stifling attention at a shoulder-to-shoulder crowded party (her definition of torture) to playing with puppies in a warm room in a stable with criminally handsome, seemingly very sweet James Bennett.
She took a backward step to the door as he straightened from his crouch.
“I should really be getting back,” she told him, looking behind her toward the door.
It was only a few feet away but the distance yawned behind her like it was a million miles.
The puppies jumped at her ankles.
James spoke and what he said made her head twist around to look at him.
“We haven’t finished the tour.”
“We haven’t?” she asked, wondering what he’d show her next.
Kittens?
Lambs?
An adorable baby rhinoceros?
He shook his head, moved forward, bending low to control the puppies at the same time his hand came to her hip, fingers hot through the fabric as he expertly manoeuvred her out of the room. Baron came with him. Gretl stayed put and James managed to get her and his dog out without any of the puppies escaping.
It was a minor miracle.
However, instinctively, Belle thought he was the kind of man who wrought minor miracles on a daily basis.
Once he’d turned out the light and closed the door, he took her elbow again and led her along the stalls toward the door they entered. He didn’t take them to the door. He took them to a ladder that led up to what looked like a hayloft.
When he had her facing it, she heard him say, “Up.”
Fear seized her and Belle stared at the ladder. Then her head tipped back to examine the open floor of the hayloft facing the stable. Then she looked at the ladder again.
Then panic coursed through her.
She didn’t do ladders.
She also didn’t do heights.