His hair was still that perfect shade of blond, but it was longer now, messy in a way that looked intentional. His jawline was sharper and his shoulders broader. Of course, those ice-blue eyes I used to daydream about were as piercing as ever. But there was something else in them now. Not charm. Not swagger. Something bruised.
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hey, sis. Reporting for duty. I have issues. You're supposed to cure me, right?"
I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the phone. "Ryan, I'm going to kill you."
"Good luck," my brother said, and the line went dead.
Colton stepped inside. His eyes scanned the room like he owned the place. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides like he wasn't as confident as he wanted to seem. "So, this is where you work, huh? Cute."
I crossed my arms, refusing to let him rattle me. "What are you doing here, Colton?"
He flashed that smirk again. "Your brother didn't tell you? I'm your new project."
I hate how his smirk deepens his dimples. Great.
He stepped into the room. "Lucky you."
And just like that, the spell broke. Right—he’s still Colton.
I wanted to argue. To tell him to leave and never come back. But something stopped me. Maybe it was the way his confidence seemed too forced. Or how his eyes flickered to the dogs like he was interested.
OK, let's be honest. I am unable argue. My brain had temporarily stopped working and my traitorous heart skipped a beat when he looked at me.
"Fine," I said, though every part of me screamed not to. "But if you think I'm going to go easy on you, you're wrong."
He raised an eyebrow, that smirk still in place. "Wouldn't expect anything less, sis."
I gritted my teeth. "Don't call me that."
"What? Sis?" He took a step closer, and I caught a whiff of his cologne—something woodsy and way too expensive. "Why not? That's what you are, right? Ryan's little sister?"
I glared at him, refusing to back down. "Not anymore."
For a moment, he looked surprised. Then that smirk returned, and he leaned in just enough to make my pulse race. "Good to know."
I couldn't help but remember the last time I'd seen him.
It was the summer before my senior year of high school. After winning a big college game, he'd shown up at our house with Ryan. I'd spent the entire night trying to act casual. I pretended I didn't notice how his laugh made my stomach flip. And I tried not to see how his T-shirt clung to his shoulders after he'd gone for a run.
But he'd barely looked at me whenever we were in the same room. "Hey," he offered, barely glancing up as if I were just background noise. And just like that, my crush had been reduced to ash.
He was taller now, broader, with that same maddening smirk and a confidence that set my teeth on edge. But I wasn't some starry-eyed teenager anymore—and I wasn't here to swoon. I was here because Ryan asked. Because maybe, deep down, I believed people could change—even him.
Max let out a soft whine, and I reached through the bars without thinking, brushing his wiry fur with the back of my hand. Let Colton watch, I had more important things to do.
I had been in the middle of cleaning out Max's kennel when Ryan called. The little terrier had been through hell before he came to us. He had been abandoned, malnourished, and terrified of everything. But over the past few weeks, he'd started to trust me. He'd even let me pet him without flinching.
Moments like these reminded me why I did this job and gave up a cushy office gig to work long hours for barely enough pay to cover rent. These dogs needed someone to fight for them, and I was happy to be that person.
When Colton walked further into the room, Max immediately retreated to the corner of his kennel, his tail tucked between his legs. I shot Colton a glare. "You're scaring him."
Colton raised an eyebrow. "Me? I didn't even do anything."
"Exactly," I muttered, turning back to Max. "It's okay, buddy. He's just here to annoy us for a while. We'll survive."
Colton rested one shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "So, what's the plan, sis? Are you going to teach me how to play nice with the other kids?"
I rolled my eyes. "If by 'play nice' you mean stop getting photographed with married women, then yes. That's exactly what I'm going to do."
