Always The Best Man. Michelle Major

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       “You make me feel things I haven’t in a long time. I’m sorry, Jase. I can’t—”

      He didn’t wait for her to finish. There was no way he was going to listen to the word can’t coming from her, not when she’d basically told him she wanted him. In one quick movement, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

      The moment was cut short when a dog barked—the sound coming from his house—and Emily pulled back. “You have a dog?”

      “A puppy,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his jaw and trying to get a handle on the lust raging through him. “Ruby—my pup—was the runt. She was weaker than the rest and her brothers and sister tended to pick on her.”

      “You rescue puppies, too? Unbelievable.”

      “It’s not a big deal.”

      “Tell that to Ruby.” She reached up on tiptoe, touched her lips to the corner of his mouth and then moved away. “You’re damn near perfect, Jase Crenshaw.”

      “I’m not—”

      “You are.” She shook her head. “It’s too bad for both of us that I gave up on perfect.”

      * * *

      Crimson, Colorado: Finding home—and forever—in the West