Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) Read Free

after his own heart, with the comfort
of her animals coming first. Despite the animal comforts, nothing
was out of place, nothing like his messy house, nor did it smell
like animals lived there. In fact, it smelled wonderful, like a
combination of spring blossoms and a mountain meadow. The hardwood
floors gleamed, not one fluffy cloud of dust and cat hair anywhere,
and he was pretty sure she had a cat based on the pictures on her
mantle.
    Brett followed her, his eyes dropping to her
blue-jeans-clad ass, a really, really nice ass, and those long
take-me-to-heaven legs. Any guy in his right mind would fantasize
about those legs.
    Brett tugged on his collar and wiped his
brow. He cleared his throat and swallowed. He was hooked, but
judging by that impressive diamond ring, so was she. Leave it to
him to fall for an unattainable woman—wouldn’t be the first time.
As the Jacks’ backup quarterback, women looked right past him to
the starters. It was the story of his life, and he was used to it.
Not that he’d grown complacent, but being pissed about the hand
life dealt you wasn’t his way. He was first and foremost a
fighter.
    Brett rushed to help her as she lifted the
cage and handed it to him. Their fingers touched again, sending a
Taser shock through him. She steadied the cage when he almost
dropped it.
    Bongo glared at him. “You fucking asshole.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Dumbshit.”
    Brett sighed, feeling like a parent with a
delinquent child.
    Estie wasn’t smiling now. “African Grays are
high strung and neurotic.”
    “Tell me about it.” Brett set the cage on an
end table, reluctant to leave.
    “Are you experienced with handling these
birds?”
    By the frown on her face, she thought he was
a total moron, and he had to tell the truth. “No, not at all. He
was brought into an animal rescue group I work with. No one else
would take him, so I fostered him. That was six months ago. I still
haven’t been able to find a suitable home for him.”
    “Do you realize these birds have the
intelligence of a four- or five-year-old?” Estie studied Bongo for
a moment, who preened under her watchful eye. She turned back to
Brett, no longer frowning. Her eyes sparkled like the lights of New
York City on a clear night when she talked about animals.
    Brett was one hundred percent enamored.
Stupid of him? Yeah. Especially for a practical guy like him, but
sometimes practical guys rocked the crazy, just like he had in the
Middle East. But then in his former Army career, you had to be a
little crazy to survive.
    But he digressed.
    Estie was a model-perfect woman who
currently didn’t give a shit that blond dog hair clung to her
sweater or dog slobber was smeared on her sleeve, which seemed in
opposition to her spotless house. Her blue eyes were soft and warm,
like a beach on a sunny day. Like her brother, she had thick, dark
hair, only hers fell in waves around her shoulders despite her
messy ponytail.
    “I enjoyed having him here. Let me know if
you need a bird sitter again.” She started to walk toward the door,
his cue to leave.
    “Thanks, I really appreciate it. If you mean
that, I’ll need someone for the next away game.” With a sigh, Brett
picked up the cage and followed with heavy feet.
    She waited next to the door for him. “Let me
see your hand.”
    Puzzled, he held out his hand. She turned
his palm up and scribbled her number on it with a black Sharpie she
pulled from her pocket.
    “Thanks,” Brett turned and ran into the
door, which brought about a litany of profanity from Bongo.
    “Clumsy idiot. Clumsy idiot. Clumsy fucking
idiot.”
    Before the obscenity-obsessed parrot
unleashed more abuse, Brett opened the door and escaped, Bongo
still berating him.
    Estie’s soft giggle faded with the click of
the door as she closed it behind him.
    “Lovesick fool. Lovesick fool.”
    When did the damn bird learn to read
minds?
    * * * * *
    Estie Harris stifled a yawn, as her fiancé,
Richard Michaels, and his father, Gary,