A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

there he is—his back still turned toward the reception desk. The three volunteers scatter at the sight of me. Totally busted in their ogling. I’m not their boss, exactly, but as a full-time employee, volunteers fall somewhat under my purview. Katrina answers the phone, which has probably been ringing since Eli walked in. I approach him cautiously, stopping a few feet away to give his flannel-clad back an appreciative glance. Not an objectifying stare. If I were objectifying, I’d be looking at his butt. Backs are totally neutral zones. “Here for more puppy therapy?” I ask, proud I’m not only able to get words out, but funny ones at that. When Eli turns and I catch the expression on his face, I immediately regret my attempt at humor. Not funny. Not even a little. Clearly, my words hit a little too close to home. Eli looks … terrible. I mean, relatively speaking. About as terrible as this man can look. Still very, very attractive, but his infectious smile has been replaced by a frown, and his blue eyes look haunted. It actually hurts to see such a normally bright and sunny man look so sad. Immediately, I want to fix it. Especially after sticking my foot so far into my mouth. “Sorry—bad joke,” I say quietly, waving a hand and hoping he doesn't see the flush creeping up my neck. “It's just an expression. Studies have shown that being around dogs can cause a release of oxytocin, serotonin, dopamine, and endorphins. So, it’s like a kind of therapy. Not that you need therapy. Or t...