Can't Touch This (24 page)

“Let me.” Ryder once again placed the bag on top of the other.

And away we went again. With a squeak of trolley wheels and some crooner on the overhead speakers.

Why hasn’t he tried to guess yet?

Turning right, we headed down the next aisle. This was the feline section.

In went two bags of kitty chow and a bottle of glucosamine for older arthritic cats that I subscribed to patients and believed it worked for joint health even if some vets didn’t think such things.

By the time we were in the third aisle where collars, leashes, and squeaky toys littered the space in an array of diamantes and rainbow fashions, Ryder murmured, “Whatever you’re keeping from me, I don’t think it’s a bad secret. Just tell me...”

I made the mistake of looking up.

His hazel eyes grappled mine into submission. “Please?”

I swallowed hard. “Um…”

Ryder strolled around me, stopping to finger a dog collar with pretty heart shaped cubic zirconias indented into the pink leather. “Okay, answer me this.” Pointing at the quickly filling trolley, he asked, “Just how much of these supplies are for your clinic?”

A sudden hot flush raced up my spine. “We haven’t got there yet. But I’d say I need a couple of dog bowls, a rabbit water feeder, some bird seed, and a few puppy pads for toilet training.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He prowled around me again, his hand making contact with my waist to trail around my spine to the other side. “So, the massive amounts of dog and cat food you just put in that groaning trolley…who is that for? Do you have a dog I don’t know about? Visa is a strong willed cat but I doubt her attitude requires feeding that much.”

“We do feed the animals at the practice while they heal from surgery, you know.”

He nodded seriously. “I believe that without a doubt. So that’s where this is going? Updating your supplies for all the critters in recovery?”

It would be so easy to nod and keep my secret. But I couldn’t do that. Not to him. Not to myself.

It’s nothing to be guilty about.

No, it wasn’t. But it was when I was embarrassed to admit it out loud.

Ryder plucked a black studded collar from the rack and came up behind me. Pressing his front against my back, he looped the collar around my throat, trapping my hair around my neck. Claustrophobia clawed while I became instantly wet, trembling for the mere idea of what he would do to me shackled and bound.

“You still agree to do anything I want if I guess right?”

I couldn’t breathe.

“Better answer me, Ves.” His breath tickled the curls against my cheek.

I wantonly swayed backward, connecting my ass with his hard cock. Instead of words, I gave him an inviting moan. “Uh huh…”

“Good.” The collar was whipped away. With quick hands, Ryder placed it into the trolley where it sat weighty and full of dirty promise on top of the dog food. “In that case, I have a few more questions and then I might be ready to guess.”

Moving away a little, he selected a rainbow lead with orange, purple, and turquoise beads stuck on the nylon and ran it through his hands. “Do you plan on using the food you’ve selected in any way for the animals in your care or your own pets?”

“I already said yes to some. For the animals recovering.”

“That’s it, though?”

“Yes…”

Dangnamit, where is he going with this?

He rubbed his jaw. “And you still haven’t shopped for what you need at Tales of Tails. Correct?”

Goosebumps returned with a vengeance. I stupidly felt as if I stood on unstable ground, slowly hollowed out more and more as Ryder questioned. “Yes.”

“How often do you pick up supplies of this quantity?”

I dropped my gaze. “Once a week.”

He tensed. “Once a
week
? Wow, you have some very hungry beasts relying on you.” He fell silent, the whirring of his brain filling the silence between us.

“I’ve been in every zone in your vet practice and I’ve never seen a store room with space to keep so much merchandise. Do you buy and store somewhere else?”

Crap, he’s getting warmer.

“You could say that.”

“Do you buy and
give
them to someone else?”

I should scream Polo because his question was the perfect Marco.

“Maybe.”

“You do know how questions and answers work, Ves. ‘Maybe’ doesn’t cut it.” He moved closer, his black sneakers silent on the linoleum. “Yes or no?”

“Yes or no to what?”

He smirked, knowing he’d prodded a nerve. “Do you buy this for someone else?”

I desperately wanted to drop my head, but I held his gaze. I couldn’t force my lips to say the damning words though. So we ended up staring. Our hearts pumped harder, our tongues licked bottom lips as chemistry and electricity demanded physical contact.

Ryder murmured, “You do know I care for lots of dogs and fully aware of how expensive keeping a tribe is, right?”

I swallowed, doing my best to avoid looking at his luscious lips and thinking how damn much I wanted to kiss him. “Yes.”

“And I’m also aware of what it would cost approximately to operate a veterinary surgery and the estimated income you and Polly would earn.”

“How would you know that?” I curled into myself.

“Basic Google and the knowledge of median salaries in the area.”

I rubbed my forehead, doing my best not to look guilty for something I hadn’t done. Unfortunately, he made me take ownership of something I’d long indulged even when I knew it was harming me. “Wow, you must be good at math.”

“I’m okay with numbers…you could say that.” Hovering his hand over the trolley, he let the rainbow lead slip from his fingers, slithering with a colourful ribbon into the growing pile.

“Are you by any chance heading over to Babble Brook Avenue after this?”

Shit, he knows.

I shook my head. “Look, I’m allowed to do what I want with the money I earn, okay? Even if it means—”

His eyes narrowed. His body whip straight. “Means what?”

“Nothing.”

Way to go, Ves.

Ryder encroached, pushing me with sheer force of his charisma into the racks holding doggy jackets and dress-up outfits. “You donate all of this to the shelter on Babble Brook. Don’t you?”

This time, I didn’t drop my eyes.

I puffed out my chest. “Yes. So what?”

“So
what
?” He frowned. “There is no ‘so what.’” His features softened, his eyes glossed with such affection, it drowned my achy breaky heart. “Vesper, that makes you a goddam angel and you already had a halo for everything else that you are.”

“Don’t say that.” His awe made me doubly uncomfortable. “Many people give to causes in need.”

“No, they don’t.” He shook his head sadly. “Surprisingly, it’s entirely too low.”

“Well, even more reason to do it.”

“I agree completely.” His face shadowed. “I—I do the same thing.”

“I know. You’re so generous with rescuing the dogs and paying for their care and rehabilitation. I’m not the one with a halo, Ry. It’s you.”

He chuckled, embarrassed. “Wrong. I’m just paying it forward for the blessing my parents gave me.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask. It was the first time he’d mentioned his parents and although I was desperately curious about them and his older brother, I didn’t pry. We had plenty of time to learn about each other.

My heart should’ve been lighter that he’d guessed my secret and wasn’t horrified.

You didn’t give him all the facts.

Facts? What were facts? He knew I did a large donation once a week to the same shelter he rescued dogs for. What was better than knowing we both got a kick out of charity?

It’s fine.

We’re fine.

I would be rewarded with having him do naughty things to me when we got home. The rest didn’t matter.

Only, it did.

I sighed heavily, pushing on the trolley to either run away or find the courage to tell him the rest. I’d never been good at half admission—even if it wasn’t technically any of his business. I was the girl no one would skip class with as I could never keep a secret because of the damn guilt festering inside me.

Ryder pecked my cheek, keeping pace with my squeaky wheels. “I didn’t think I could like you any more than I do, Ves. My heart is so goddamn full right now.”

Oh, God.

I couldn’t hide it.

I
wanted
to hide it.

But I couldn’t lie because I couldn’t jeopardise a future with him—a future I wanted more than anything.

Keeping my eyes straight ahead, my hands latched around the plastic handle bar. “There’s more.”

“More?” He slammed to a halt. Grabbing my elbow, he forced me to do the same. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I give everything I can.”

“And that’s fucking admirable.” He smiled so sweetly. “Vesper, you don’t have to justify it. I get that desire, that drive, that obsession to help. If you feel guilty because you get contentedness from helping others, don’t. That’s a good thing.
You’re
doing a good thing—”

“Let me finish.” I couldn’t let him derail me or accept his understanding when he didn’t have the full story. I’d been ostracised because of this. My parents wanted nothing to do with me because of this.

It was kind of a big deal even though to an outsider there was a simple solution to fix. It wasn’t an easy fix to me. I had no intention of fixing it. It was what I needed to do. End of story.

“Okay…” Ryder took a step back, crossing his arms. His stance lost its affection, bracing himself for bad news.

Was it bad news?

Not really.

But it showed I had flaws and a few pieces of battered and well-travelled baggage that would have to be accepted or kicked to the curb because I would not,
would not
, stop donating.

I couldn’t.

I sucked in a deep breath. “The thought of animals in the world, alone, cold, unloved, and hurting breaks me. I became a vet because I couldn’t become anything else. This love for creatures was there since birth. I don’t cry if I hear of people hurt or when I watch the awful things we do to each other on TV. But put a puppy in a drainpipe or a box of abandoned kittens in the river and I’m a freaking mess.”

I stiffened, warming to my speech. “Every day, there are so many little souls being destroyed in shelters because of lack of resources. It consumes me. I don’t have room to keep them at home. I don’t have money to adopt them all and give them a better life. All I can do is heal their pain and donate everything I can afford so their bellies are full, they have somewhere comfy to sleep, and their minds are occupied with toys to play with. It’s nothing in the scheme of things but it’s—”

Ryder went still. “When you say you give
everything
you can…”

My shoulders turned ramrod straight. “There’s a reason why I live in a shitty apartment when even three-bedroom houses in this town are very affordable. Did you think I drive a 1995 Honda Accord that breaks down every month because I want to?”

Oh, God.

He’ll hate me. He’ll look at me as if I’m an idiot—just like my parents.

Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose. “What are you saying? That you put the donations first and you second?”

When he said it like that, it was moronic. I knew that. Everyone knew that. I came first because if I didn’t look after me how was I supposed to look after anyone else? But how could I buy a soft blanket when so many dogs slept with nothing? How could I buy expensive cheese for a treat when cats were dying of starvation? Every time I went shopping for myself, I drowned beneath guilt and ended up choosing basic necessities and nothing else.

Everything else went to those who couldn’t ask for help.

I sighed heavily. “And there you have my stupid secret.” Pushing the trolley, I wheeled past him, taking my shame and doing my best to wrap it up with pride. I was proud of what I did. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t find some selfish pleasure in arriving at the shelter with my car full of goodies and giving to those hopelessly adorable strays.

But I had enough grief from my parents telling me how stupid I was. I’d made the mistake of opening a new credit card and listing their address for delivery. A statement had been posted and, because my parents didn’t believe in privacy, they’d opened it.

And the shit hit the fan.

I lived pay cheque to pay cheque and because it wasn’t enough to donate what I wanted, I lived on credit.

Along with my student loans and start-up business debt, I was not in a good place.

And it was my moronic fault.

But if I didn’t do it, how many lives would’ve been lost if I didn’t share what I had?

That question kept me awake far too often.

The one and only time I’d tried to stop—to avoid my weekly donation and feed myself some better food and turn the heaters on higher in winter—I just couldn’t do it. The guilt was far stronger at not helping than the guilt at burying myself under bills.