“Of course.” I stand quickly, needing distance before I do something stupid like pull her into my lap. “Can I get the plates? Napkins?”
“First shelf on the left. Thanks.”
I feel her watching me as I walk to the kitchen. The kitten trails after me, weaving between my ankles with dangerous precision.
“Watch it, little one,” I murmur, bending to scratch behind her ears. “Your mom would kill me if I stepped on you.”
The kitten purrs, then darts away to attack a piece of yarn that’s escaped into the kitchen. Despite the feelers I’ve put out for a home, no one’s shown interest. Pine Island already has too many cats and not enough people wanting to adopt them. Not that I’ve tried very hard. Some part of me knew from that first day—this kitten belongs with Flick.
“You know,” I say, returning with plates and napkins, “untangling the yarn made me feel calm, too. Just like watching that girl organize embroidery floss.”
“Me too. I never want to do it, but once I start, I kind of zone out. It’s meditative.”
“I’ll help you untangle your yarn stash anytime you need it.” I settle back on the floor, closer than before. Close enough to catch the scent of her shampoo—something fruity and light.
“I might take you up on that. What if we make plans to go out this week, and then, if you’re lucky, we can go to Knit Happens and organize the inventory.”
My heart stutters. “Sure. That sounds great.”
“Really? Which part?” She props her elbow on the table, studying me with amused curiosity.
“Going on a date with you...and organizing inventory. The first one is more exciting, though.”
“Great.” She shifts position, and her sleeve slides down, revealing what looks like a nasty gash on her forearm.
My stomach drops. “You’re bleeding. I’ll get my first aid kit.” I’m already halfway to standing.
“You carry a first aid kit?”
“Yes, in my car.” My hand is on the doorknob.
“Sebastian,” she laughs.
“What?” I spin back around, adrenaline making me jumpy.
She holds up her hands, and I finally see clearly. The ‘wound’ is purple and pink, obviously dye stain. “It’s dye. Just like on my hands. Remember?”
My shoulders slump as embarrassment washes over me. “Oh. Shit. I should have known that.”
I trudge back to the coffee table, feeling foolish. Some observant vet I am.
“It’s okay.” She’s still giggling, but it’s warm, appreciative. “You’re on top of things. Ready to rescue me from my dangerous dye injuries.”
“Yeah.” I shrug, trying to sort through my jumbled feelings. The instinct to protect her had been immediate, overwhelming. “I kind of have to be. Between my practice, the emergency clinic, and getting this animal sanctuary up and running?—”
“Wait. What?” She straightens, eyes wide. “Animal sanctuary? I didn’t know about this. Where is it?”
“I don’t have the land yet.” I shift closer as I sit, drawn by her enthusiasm. Our knees brush, and neither of us pulls away. “It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time, though.”
“You really love animals.” She rakes her fingers through her long brown hair, and my hands itch to follow the path. The strands look impossibly soft, catching the light as they fall back into place.
“They’ve always been my life. My parents own a petting zoo?—”
“The one across the bridge? In Portsmouth?”
“Yep. That one.”
“That’s cool,” she murmurs. “I’ve never been there, but Hannah took her boyfriend’s daughter, and she said it was awesome. So, you love animals, but you didn’t want to work there?”
