The Paleontologist (Sexy Scientists Series, Book Five)

By Ramona Gray

Olivia
My son and I moved to Willowdale for a fresh start. But life doesn’t always go according to plan. Our bed and breakfast is failing, and my hopes are sinking.

I need new customers. Fast.

Too bad I have a busted stove and a third floor that’s more bare walls than bed. I have three months to finish renovations before my B and B’s feature on the hot, new travel website. Nothing will distract me from finishing and giving my business the boost it needs.

Until Ben Morris walks through the door.

He’s a sexy paleontologist with a chip on his shoulder the size of a brontosaurus and a hate for the small town I’ve grown to love.

Ben
I’d vowed to never return to Willowdale. But my baby brother needs my help.

I’ll do anything to protect him—even if it’s from himself and even if that means returning to the place of my nightmares.

But I wasn’t expecting Olivia Price.

A woman with intelligence and drive that matches my own. She might be my perfect woman, but I have a brother to save and a book to finish so I can get the hell out of Willowdale for good.

Except, spending time with Olivia and her son soothes my soul in a way I never thought possible.

I don’t have the first clue how to be in a functional family, so why am I suddenly longing to be a part of theirs?

Author’s Note: This is the fifth in a series of stand-alone, short and dirty (So.Very.Dirty.) novellas. If you’re looking for quick, one-handed (ahem) reads with insta-love and over-the-top alpha heroes in lab coats, then the trope-alicious Sexy Scientists series is for you!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ramona Gray
• Release date: Oct 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781774461396

Ramona Gray

Ramona Gray is a Canadian romance author. She lives in Alberta with her awesome husband and her mutant Chihuahua. She is addicted to home improvement shows, good coffee, and reading and writing about the steamier moments in life.Email her at: [e-mail] out her website: www.ramonagray.caSign up for her newsletter: http://eepurl.com/_cL75She also writes contemporary and paranormal romance under her alter-ego "Elizabeth Kelly". Check out Elizabeth's books at www.elizabethkelly.ca

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Ben

Iparked on the street and turned off my SUV. I was in one of the older parts of Willowdale, and towering trees and gorgeous homes with perfectly manicured front lawns lined the street.

I couldn’t see the beauty in it, though. All I saw was ugliness and anger and fear.

I scrubbed a hand through my hair before grabbing my overnight bag off the passenger seat and sliding out of the car. I locked it and strode up the sidewalk, past the flower bed in the front yard with the Willowdale Bed and Breakfast wooden sign in the middle of the blooming flowers.

I studied the craftsman-style home with the grey brick and blue shutters as I approached it. Flower boxes overflowing with bright yellow flowers brought brightness to the covered porch, and the entire place had a welcoming feel. I supposed that was the look it was going for.

I climbed the porch stairs, pausing at the front door. Thanks to an impulsive decision, I didn’t have a reservation, but once I’d gotten the idea, I couldn’t shake it loose. It sat in the middle of my brain, poking at the soft meat with a sharp stick until I’d thrown some clothes and toiletries in a bag and headed home.

I snorted under my breath. Home? Willowdale wasn’t my home and never would be. The only reason I was here was because my brother Griffin had got it in his head that he was in love and had moved back to Willowdale permanently.

I was here to bring him back to where he belonged. With me. Far away from this piece of shit town and the memories that haunted us both.

I opened the door and stepped into the welcoming coolness of the foyer. The cream-coloured walls and minimalist art pointed to someone with a good eye for decorating. Ahead of me was a wooden staircase, the railing polished until it gleamed, and to my left was a large open room with several couches and chairs and an upright piano.

I glanced into the dining room to the right, studying the large wooden table and the French doors that opened up to the porch.

Hello? I called. Anyone home?

I waited in silence, listening for any indication of life. Hello? I raised my voice, letting it echo off the walls.

When there was still no reply, I shrugged and headed into the dining room toward a door on the far wall. I walked into the kitchen, alarm washing over me, when I saw the tiny woman on her knees with her head stuck inside the oven.

Before I could rush forward, she leaned back and climbed to her feet. She wore leggings and a t-shirt, and I studied her perfect ass for a few seconds before clearing my throat. Excuse me.

She didn’t turn around. Instead, she shut the oven door and then kicked the door with a ferociousness that surprised me. Motherfucking piece of shit!

I grinned and said, Hey, excuse me?

She kicked the stove again, and I moved closer, understanding dawning when I saw the earbuds in her ears and heard the faint sound of music. She snarled out another curse and kicked the stove for the third time.

Trying not to laugh, I reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. She screamed and whirled around, and I had enough time to see her gorgeous blue eyes and perfect pink lips before her knee shot up and landed squarely against my balls.

Olivia

Oh, God. I really am so sorry. I stared at the stranger sitting on a kitchen chair and holding his nuts.

He glared at me, surprisingly sexy even with the look on his face suggesting he was about three seconds from barfing all over my kitchen floor.

Do you always knee your guests in the nuts, or am I just lucky? he wheezed out before grimacing.

Do you always grab women when they’re alone in a house? I shot back.

I winced. What the hell was wrong with me? Sure, I was stressed and upset about the broken oven, and the guy had scared me, but he was a potential guest, and with an empty B and B for the entire week, I needed all the guests I could get.

I didn’t grab. I lightly touched your shoulder, he grumbled.

I’m sorry, I repeated. I took a bag of peas from the freezer and hurried over to him. When I tried to place the frozen peas on his crotch, he blocked my hand, and my face flamed bright red. Christ, what was wrong with me?

I handed him the peas, and he pressed them gingerly against his crotch as he stared up at me. He had short dark hair, dark eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass. I was pretty sure I’d only seen shoulders that broad and bodies that were that sculpted in Luther’s comic books. Give the man a pair of glasses, and he could be Clark Kent.

Do you need to go to the hospital? I asked.

It would be a real fucking shame if I’d ruined the man’s junk. People as pretty as him definitely should procreate.

No, he said.

Are you sure? Maybe I should take a look at your….

He stared at me, and I immediately looked at the floor. Perhaps I’d get lucky, and a sinkhole would appear and swallow me whole.

Sorry, I mumbled for the third time.

Hey, Mom? Do you know where my blue pencil case is? My seven-year-old, Luther, skipped into the kitchen. He wore a bright yellow sundress with his feet stuck in his winter boots and my favourite scarf draped dramatically around his neck.

I know you. Luther stared at the stranger. You’re the dinosaur guy.

My surprise immediately faded. If this guy were in any way involved with dinosaurs, Luther would know him. The kid lived, breathed, and ate dinosaurs.

Luther leaned against the island, studying the man with bright interest. I read that article about you finding the new dinosaur in Canada.

Good for you, kid, the man said as he shifted the frozen peas against his crotch.

Luther studied the bag of peas. I guess we’re not having peas for dinner, huh?

I laughed, and, to my surprise, a faint smile crossed the man’s face.

So, why are you holding peas against your penis? Luther asked.

The man grimaced before setting the bag on the island and standing. He adjusted himself through his jeans with another wince before saying, I’ll find somewhere else to stay.

Dismay rocketed through me, and I said, Oh, please don’t. I promise I won’t….

I cleared my throat as Luther studied me. Promise you won’t, what?

Never mind, Luther, I said. I plastered a smile on my face. My name is Olivia Price, and this is my son, Luther. We would love for you to stay here with us.

I don’t have a reservation, he said. Do you have space?

We always have space, Luther said.

Luther, hush, I said. We have a room available, yes.

The man hesitated, and hating how desperate I felt, I said, I’ll give you a ten percent discount for your…. I glanced at his crotch, trouble.

I waited for an eternity, keeping the smile pasted on as sweat rolled down my back before he said, Okay.

I took a deep breath. Welcome to Willowdale Bed and Breakfast, mister…?

Morris. Ben Morris.

CHAPTER 2

Ben

Driving through Willowdale brought back more memories than I expected. I’d avoided our old neighbourhood, but the route to Griffin’s new girlfriend’s house took me straight past the high school and the ‘Mom and Pop’ store I’d worked part-time at from fifteen until graduating high school.

I’d been tempted to stop at the store, half convinced that Martha would still be sitting behind the counter, the scent of Juicy Fruit wafting from her, while Earnest tinkered with the milk and pop cooler that was forever breaking down.

In the end, I kept driving. Even if they still owned the store, what was the point in stopping to say hello? They might have been one of the few good memories I had of Willowdale, but I wasn’t interested in walking down memory lane…good or bad.

My only goal for this trip was to convince Griffin he’d made a terrible mistake and bring him back to Havenport, where he belonged.

I shifted in my seat and grunted at the twinge of pain in my balls. Christ, for how tiny she was, Olivia Price had a killer knee. My balls would probably never be the same.

She’s gorgeous too.

I ignored my inner voice. Olivia Price was gorgeous, and I was immediately attracted to her despite how she’d tried to neuter me, but I wasn’t here to fuck the bed and breakfast owner. No matter how tempted I was. Besides, for all I knew, she could be happily married, despite having no wedding ring.

I turned left and drove half a block down the street before pulling into an empty spot across from Griffin’s new place. His truck was parked in the driveway, and a tinge of homesickness washed over me. God, I’d missed him. It’d been far too long since I’d seen him.

Uncharacteristically anxious and with my palms sweating like crazy, I locked the SUV and walked up the driveway. I climbed the porch steps and knocked briskly on the front door. My stomach churned, but I didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open after less than thirty seconds, and I couldn’t stop my giant grin when I saw Griffin.

A brightly flowered apron covered his massive body, flour dusted his cheeks, and he looked so ridiculously happy that I reconsidered my plan for a moment.

Ben? Griffin stared at me in shock.

Hey, little brother, I said.

Holy fuck! He grabbed me in his typical bear hug, nearly lifting me off my feet. I was a big guy at 6’3" and stayed in good shape, but Griffin had me beat by a couple of inches and about forty pounds of muscle.

Christ, I said when he squeezed me so hard I almost heard my ribs crack. Ease up, dickhead.

Griffin set me on my feet, grabbing me by my arms and grinning at me. What are you doing here?

Eh, I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I’d drop by, I said.

He laughed and hugged me again, only marginally easier on the squeezing. Fuck, I’m happy to see you, man.

I smiled at him, even though I knew that his attitude would change when he realized why I was here. But for now, I would take this moment of happiness and hold it tight. I’m happy to see you too.

Holy shit, I cannot believe you’re here. I really can’t. Wait, how did you know where I live?

It’s called a small town and Google, I said.

Griffin stepped back. Come inside. Bryce isn’t home from work yet, but I can’t wait for you to meet her.

I stepped into the house, wincing when the shrill barking echoed through the hallway. A tiny brown Chihuahua skittered into view, barking even impossibly higher when he saw me.

Stanley, hush. Griffin bent and scooped up the dog with one hand. It’s okay, buddy. This is my brother Ben. Ben, this is Stanley.

You got a dog? I petted Stanley’s tiny head.

He licked my hand as Griffin said, Technically, he’s Bryce’s dog, but he loves his daddy. He brought the dog up to his face, and I watched in disbelief as he let Stanley lick his mouth and nose. Daddy loves you too, buddy. Yes, he does.

You know that dog’s mouth is full of germs, right? I said.

Griffin just laughed and, still holding Stanley, headed down the hall. Come into the kitchen.

I followed him to the small kitchen. A big steel pot sat on the stove, and the delicious smell permeating the kitchen made my stomach growl. An older woman with silver hair and a bright smile stood at the counter. Ben Morris, look at you! All grown up!

Hello, I said. I didn’t have a clue who she was.

Ben, this is Bryce’s grandmother, Annabelle Waters, Griffin said.

I stepped forward to shake her hand, and she wiped the flour off her hands before giving my hand a firm shake. It’s so good to see you again, young man. You’re just as handsome as your brother.

Oh, uh, thanks, I said.

Griffin grinned at me as Gran said, The dough is ready to be cut into biscuits, sweetheart.

Gran is teaching me how to make her famous chicken stew and biscuits, Griffin said. He handed Stanley to me, and I took the dog with a grunt of surprise. Sit down and relax. Can I get you some lemonade? I made it this morning.

Completely baffled, I sat down. Stanley settled on my lap, and we both watched as Griffin poured a glass of lemonade, adding a wedge of lemon to it with a flourish before setting it in front of me.

He washed his hands and then stood next to Gran. The rolled-out dough sat on the counter, and I watched in silence as Gran showed Griffin how to cut out the biscuits and then covered them with a teatowel.

"The secret to getting them