Free Designed for Love (Texas Nights) by Kelsey Browning

couldn’t afford you even if I did.”
    That made her bottom lip pop out. “Look, Mac, about the money...how about we work out a deal? I’ll help you with this project and work off some of my debt at the same time.”
    For once, a barter deal didn’t sound like a great idea. One, because he damn well needed the cash. And two, because she’d be more of a distraction than a help.
    “I don’t think—”
    “I’m good at what I do.”
    “I’m sure you are, but...”
    She moved closer, into his personal space, and her scent—cool with an edge of ocean water—surrounded him. Mac’s capacity for rational thought blipped off the radar. Two plus two became a calculus equation. “It’s the neighborly thing to do if your mom and I will be running businesses next door to one another. And you said it was going to be what kind of store?”
    “A pet shop.”
    Ashton’s eyes widened. “A nice one?”
    “No, a crappy one where she sells dogs from puppy mills and the whips to beat them with.”
    “
Does
she plan to sell animals?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “It breaks my heart when I see dogs in cages waiting for someone to buy them. Because, honestly, so many discarded animals need homes.”
    “This from a woman who owns a designer dog? So if Mr. Sausage Snatcher over there gets flattened by a car, you’ll replace him with a mutt?”
    “God, Mac, aren’t you a ray of sunshine, killing off my dog?”
    He lifted a shoulder. “It’s a legitimate question.”
    “I’ll never be able to replace Napoleon. But when he goes to doggie heaven when he’s an old, old man, I won’t buy another dog.”
    He glanced over to catch her dog hunched over like a kangaroo in the corner. “Is he doing what I think he’s doing?” Mac eyed the dog, who he’d swear on a bible was grinning at him. If Napoleon had an opposable thumb, no doubt he’d be shooting an air pistol at Mac and winking.
    “Napoleon!” she scolded.
    All that did was encourage him to walk toward her, still shitting all the way. Little rat turds spilled out behind him as though he were laying down a highway center line. Yeah, that carpet was definitely coming out.
    “I’m so sorry.” As soon as the dog had finished his highway of business, she scooped him up. “I’ve got some paper towels in my office.”
    Mac followed her through the door. He’d clean it up himself if it meant Napoleon stayed here and didn’t add a roadside puddle.
    He stood in the anteroom and checked out her space. Sage-green walls with meticulously patched and repainted nail holes. Only someone with his experience would ever spot them. A couple of mirrors with those old frames that seemed to look better the more tarnished they were. He wandered toward another room. A painted dining table with a quartet of mismatched chairs upholstered in the same fabric. Piles of fabric squares and thick books were scattered on the table’s surface. Should’ve looked messy, but it was actually kind of cozy. Last, he poked his head into what had to be Ashton’s office. A white-and-gold semi-circle desk held up by those Arabian horse legs. A dainty desk chair that he could snap into kindling if he put half his weight on it.
    Nice stuff, but he had a strange feeling most of it wasn’t particularly expensive. Not what he would’ve expected from Ashton.
    Mac strolled out to the reception area and plucked the roll of paper towels from her hand, sending a don’t-fuck-with-me look at Napoleon, still tucked in her armpit. “Your space is a surprise.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I expected a bunch of shi—doodads everywhere. You know, lace and gold trim and—”
    “Pretentious, you mean?”
    Crap, now he’d pissed her off. “Not exactly.”
    “It’s not fancy, but it’s mine.” She looked around as if she was seeing the space for the first time.
    “Shelbyville doesn’t exactly seem like your kinda place. A woman of your...means...moving from Houston to Shelbyville.”
    “I didn’t like who