Grace Patterson is not my type. Not only is she a second-grade teacher at the local elementary school, but she’s perfect, like untouchable perfect. Everything is please and thank you and Maverick – no one calls me that. And when I allow her to bring that mutt into my house, all I hear is “Did you miss me, baby? Are you hungry, baby? I’ll take care of you, baby.” What I didn’t mention is that she’s my best friend’s little sister and I’m about twelve years older than her, which makes her completely off-limits. So why I’m suddenly wanting what I can’t have is beyond me.