“Hey, you know I run on caffeine, sarcasm, and inappropriate thoughts at all times.”
“I didn’t give up sex,” Spence said. Okay, yes, his latest project required his 24–7 attention and he hadn’t had time to connect with anyone. But quick hookups weren’t really his thing anyway. What was his thing at the moment was creating a system for getting meds to people via drones, in far-flung areas where they were nearly nonexistent. Meds and also medical care through camera-equipped drones, allowing doctors to remotely diagnose and monitor patients.
He’d had problems. Accommodating for the atmosphere and varying weather patterns, for one. The security, for another—making sure pirates couldn’t intercept and steal the meds and equipment was a high-stakes priority. And then there was the ratio of the changing weight of the cargo to getting enough battery charge to make the long flights, not to mention limited battery life and the struggle to stay connected no matter the conditions. But he was getting close, very close. All he needed was time, uninterrupted time, a rare commodity. He moved toward the door. “I’m going after my phone.”
“The one you just killed dead?” Elle asked.
“I’ll bring it back to life.”
“You’re a genius, Spence, not a miracle maker.”
When he kept going, he heard Elle mutter “great” to Joe. “Now I’ve issued some sort of challenge to his manhood and he has to prove me wrong.”
The truth was, Spence could rebuild his phone in his damn sleep. What he wished he could do in his sleep was get this project up and running. Maybe a part of his problem was that it happened to be for Clarissa’s One-World charity and he’d promised her.
And Spence no longer broke promises.
He took the stairs because he hated the elevator, and when he stepped out into the courtyard, he stilled for a beat. He’d grown up hard and fast and without a home. This building had changed all that for him, and normally the sight of the fountain, the cobblestones, the building itself with its amazing old corbel brick architecture, all worked together to lighten his day.
But when he hadn’t been looking, Christmas had taken over the place. There were garlands of evergreen entwined with twinkling white lights in every doorway and window frame. On top of that, all the potted trees that lined the walkways had been done up like Christmas trees.
This being winter in San Francisco, specifically the district of Cow Hollow, the foggy afternoon air burned his lungs like ice. He grabbed his phone from the coin-filled fountain, dried it off on his pants, and shoved it into one of his pockets to restore later.
“Spence!” Willa called out from the pet shop that opened into the courtyard. She ran a pet day care out of her shop and sometimes when Spence needed to think, he often did so while walking her clients for her.
She gestured to the large dog snoozing in the sunspot with a cat on either side of him. “Got time to help me out?” she asked.
“Sure.” The dog was a regular client named Daisy Duke, and she came out of a dead sleep at Spence’s voice, leaping over the cats in sheer joy as she headed right for him. When she got to him, she jumped up and down in place, attempting to lick his face. Spence calmed her down somewhat, hooked her up to the leash, and hit the courtyard with her, heading toward the wrought-iron gates so he could walk her to doggy Disneyland—the park.
But Daisy Duke wasn’t a walker. She was a runner. More accurately, she was a 125-pound bunny, bounding with enthusiastic energy, tugging at the leash.
“Hold your horses, Daze,” he said. “Save it for the park.” He muscled her to his side, his mind miles away on his drone problems. Lost in thought, he wasn’t exactly on his game when a black cat appeared out of nowhere.
With an excited bark, Daisy Duke broke free to charge after it, heading back toward the fountain and the woman now standing there, suitcase at her side, arm primed to throw a coin into the water.
The cat managed to dodge the woman, but Daisy Duke wasn’t nearly as dexterous. Barreling forward at warp speed, she clearly saw the problem at the last minute because she let out a bark of surprise. She was probably mostly Irish setter, but Spence was pretty sure she was also part Wookiee. She was huge and uncoordinated, and a few crayons short of a full box. She did drop her head and try to stop, but her forward momentum was too much. Her back end slid out from beneath her and she flipped onto her back, plowing headlong into the woman and toppling her over.
Right into the water.
Jesus. “Stay,” Spence said to Daisy and lurched forward as the woman pushed up to her hands and knees in the water, coughing and sputtering. “Are you okay?”
Gesturing that she didn’t need his assistance, she swiped a hand down her face, muttering what sounded like “I should’ve gone to Toronto.”
She was completely drenched thanks to him, and yet she wasn’t yelling. She got serious points for that, he thought. And because she was wearing one of those flowy dresses that gave a man thoughts about what might or might not be under said dress, along with a denim jacket and boots—all of which were now clinging to her and fighting her efforts—he stepped into the fountain to help her.
“The water’s . . . warm,” she said in surprise. “It’s freezing out. How is the water warm?”
He looked down at the water. Green. He could feel coins beneath the soles of his shoes. “That can’t be good.”
She choked and he did a mental grimace. He deserved the tears. Hell, he deserved fury. But when she lifted her face, he realized she was laughing?
She’d found humor in this shitty situation.
He felt something shift in his chest at that, a zing of attraction maybe, which he hadn’t seen coming. In fact, he actually wasn’t seeing too much at all, since he was now nearly as wet as she, including his glasses. He took them off to wipe the lenses on his equally wet shirt and eye contact was made.
She had big green eyes. Big, green, smiling eyes. “I’m a mess,” she said.
That wasn’t what he was thinking. Her clothes were plastered to her body. Her very nice, curvy body. He forced his gaze back to her face, then stepped out of the fountain and turned back for her, offering a hand.
She took it but still fumbled because her dress had shrink-wrapped itself to her legs, making moving all but impossible. They struggled a moment, hands grappling for purchase on each other until finally he just wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her out, then set her down on the cobblestoned ground.
“Wuff!” Daisy had flopped around on her back for a few seconds, trying to right herself. Eventually she’d given up and stayed down, tail wagging like crazy, her tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.
That is, until she eyed something in one of the big potted trees lining the courtyard, now decorated to within an inch of their lives with lights and ornaments.
The black cat.
“Stay,” Spence warned the dog and turned back to the woman.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice matching her husky laugh. “Appreciate the help . . .” She paused, clearly waiting for him to fill in his name.
“Spence,” he said, purposely skipping his last name. Anonymity was hard to come by lately, but he’d made a habit of keeping up the effort.
“Well,” she said. “Thanks for the help, Spence.” And then she . . . turned to walk away.
“Wait—” He’d gotten her soaked and he felt terrible about that. He wanted to make sure she was okay, that he got her dry and warm. “You didn’t tell me your name.”
She looked back, seeming oddly reluctant. “Colbie,” she said. “My name is Colbie.”
“Colbie, I can’t let you just walk away. You’ve got to be freezing cold. At the very least I owe you dry clothes and a warm drink.”
“No, really. It’s okay.” She started to wring out her long, dark hair and paused. “You might want to stand back. My hair needs its own zip code when it’s wet.”
This made him smile.
“Oh, I’m not kidding,” she said.
Out of all the women Spence had known in his life, he couldn’t think of a single one who’d be taking this so well, and shit, he realized she was absently rubbing her elbow. Gently, he pushed up the sleeve of her denim jacket and found an abrasion along with an already blooming bruise.