Page 5 of The Flirty Vet

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Page 5 of The Flirty Vet

Muscled without being bulky.

Nice angular shoulders, tight biceps, and well-defined pecs.

His jeans hang just below his waist, showing off his abs and V-shape line that I will never have because carbs.

My breath hitches, and my gaze slides to what's in his hands.

"Why are you wearing a cowboy hat?"

He smiles, his face bathed in a warm orange glow. "You're in Australia, mate. They're called Akubras. I'm from the outback."

"And do they not have clothing stores in the Australian outback?"

He looks down at his shirtless chest, then lifts his head up, stretching his arms out wide. "Why, are you coming on to me, kind sir?" he asks, grinning like…like he's enjoying this.

"What? No." I jolt and bump the back of my head against the bottom of the windowpane. "Ow. Fuck."

"It's okay if you are." He eyes off his perfectly sculpted arms. "Perfectly understandable you'd want a piece of this."

Then, like the madman he most likely is, he jumps into the air, fist pumping like he's celebrating a huge win, before looking up at me again. "That gives me an idea for my next song. Want to know what it is?"

"No. I do not?—"

"Britney's "Piece of Me." I'll need to learn the lyrics first, but I will make that songmineat monthly karaoke. That I promise you, window guy."

For one of the few times in my life, I'm actually speechless. This guy is unbelievable…and also, why can't I take my eyes off him?

"Have a drink with me."

I almost choke. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know you."

"That's why we should have a drink. So that yougetto know me."

"Not happening."

"Who shoved a stick up your arse?"

I narrow my eyes, my inner New Yorker waking up from his hibernation. "Excuse me?"

"I said, who shoved a stick up?—"

"I heard what you said."

"Then why'd ya say 'excuse me'?"

I rub my eyes. I am way too tired for this. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Doesn't look like it's working."

Well, it had started working until a certain someone strolled by…

"There's a place close by," he continues, either completely oblivious or simply choosing to ignore my lack of interest. "It's on the harbour. Got a decent view of the bridge. You tourists love that shit, right?"

"Maybe," I reply a little defensively, thinking back to all the super cheesy tourist selfies and photos I took earlier in the day.




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