“Hey, Ames.” T.J. sat down in the chair next to hers, holding a beer bottle in one hand. “If you need crutches, I think we have some at the house from when Luke busted his knee. I could head back and pick them up for you.”
Amy smiled, patting his arm. “Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll be back on my feet soon.”
“I can help with the dogs in the morning,” T.J. added.
“I’m going to take you up on that offer, but not because I’m injured,” she said, welcoming the distraction from her wayward thoughts of Mark. “I need your advice on how to introduce new scents to the puppies. I was thinking about using rags soaked in the different chemicals they will be expected to detect.”
“That’s a good plan,” T.J. said, leaning forward in his chair, wrapping both hands around his beer bottle. “The most important thing is to keep the materials free and clear of your scent. Wear rubber gloves when you’re handling the rags.”
Mark returned and handed her a wineglass. She sipped slowly, trying to take mental notes as T.J. talked. But with Mark sitting close by, her focus splintered. She drew a deep breath, inhaling his familiar masculine smell. Sandalwood, possibly from his aftershave. If she leaned closer, pressing her nose, maybe her lips, to his jaw, tracing the contours as she licked, kissed and breathed him in, then she’d know for certain.
Amy shifted in her chair, nodding to T.J., though she hadn’t heard what he’d said. Her imagination was spiraling out of control. A fake ankle exam didn’t lead to kisses. But there was something about the way he’d touched her—
“Mark!” The loud, shrill call silenced Amy’s internal monologue. She watched as Molly McAdams strutted across the bar, doing her best imitation of a runway walk in her high heels and fitted skirt.
“You’re home!” Molly added.
With the faintest hint of a smile, Mark rose from his chair, allowing Molly to wrap her arms around him, pressing her breasts against his chest.
“Hey there, Molly,” he said.
Molly drew back just enough to look up at Mark’s face as she swept her long, straight black hair over her shoulder with one hand. The fingers on her right hand held tight to Mark’s biceps.
Amy frowned. She had nothing against Molly. They’d never been friends, but Amy always said hello in the grocery store. Still, did Molly have to stand so close to Mark?
“How about a dance?” Molly flashed a wide smile.
“No, thanks.” He glanced down at her. “Promised I’d keep Amy company.”
Molly laughed. “I think T.J. is up for the task.”
“Maybe. But I’m still recovering from the long trip home and need to save my energy to help her out tomorrow.” Mark rocked back on his heels, trying to extricate himself from Molly’s arms.
“A rain check, then.” Molly arched slightly, offering Mark a peek down the front of her low-cut fitted tank. “Don’t be a stranger, Mark. I’m still living on the family farm. And you don’t have to worry about Daddy. We moved him to an assisted-living condo last year and took away his guns. He’s at the retirement community, where I’ve been working for the past few years as the programming director.”
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