Hannah wasn’t exaggerating. If anything, she undersold it. This isn’t just attractive—this is romance novel cover model whodecided to become a veterinarian for fun. This is every terrible romantic comedy where the heroine meets the perfect guy while looking her absolute worst.
Which reminds me—I definitely have kitten pee on my shirt. I can feel the wetness settling against my skin. Gross.
His eyes finally land on me, and something shifts in his expression—surprise, maybe? Or interest? The kitten chooses that moment to meow loudly from inside my jacket and I unzip it a little and see a tiny gray head pop out.
“Let me guess,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not a typical morning for you?”
“How could you tell?” I manage, trying to sound normal and not like my brain just short-circuited.
Gerald chatters from his shoulder perch, tiny black eyes studying me with unnerving intelligence.
“Call it a hunch. That, and you have the shell-shocked look most people get when they first visit during morning hours. It’s usually calmer in the afternoons.” He steps closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne—something woodsy with a hint of vanilla that absolutely should not smell as good as it does mixed with eau de veterinary clinic. “I’m Dr. Blum. How can I help you?”
This is it. This is the moment where I act like a normal, functional adult who definitely didn’t practice pickup lines in college and definitely doesn’t still remember them.
“Hi, Dr. Hot—Dr. Blum.”
The words tumble out before I can stop them, and I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Shit. Did I really just call him Dr. Hot? To his face? In front of witnesses? The parrot is probably going to start repeating it. I’ll have to move off the island. Change my name. Start a new life selling insurance in Nebraska.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his eyes crinkle with suppressed laughter. “I’ve been called worse. Usually byBeaumont there.” He nods toward the parrot, who squawks what sounds suspiciously like “QUACK DOCTOR!”
“He’s got opinions,” Dr. Blum—Sebastian—continues easily, like I haven’t just made the most mortifying Freudian slip in the history of veterinary medicine. “And you’ve got a kitten there.” Nodding to my chest where the kitten is still nestled in my jacket.
“Huh? Oh...yes.” I stammer out. Somehow, I forgot what I was holding. “It peed on me.” I can feel my face flushing as he chuckles lightly.
What in the world is wrong with me? It’s like I suddenly forgot how to carry on a conversation. Real smooth, Flick.
Reaching up to pat Gerlad, his eyes quickly scan me and I can’t help wondering what he sees. “Seems it’s been a rough morning for both of you. Let’s get you cleaned up and take a look at this little one.”
He gestures toward a door marked Exam Room 2, and I follow on legs that feel like overcooked spaghetti, clutching the kitten like a lifeline. Behind us, I hear Rach mutter to another tech, “Did she just call him Dr. Hot?”
“Yep.”
“About time someone did.”
Kill me. Kill me now.
CHAPTER 2
Sebastian Blum
“Right in here.” I hold the door open fo the woman and her kitten motioning for her to precede me. “I’m Dr. Blum. Sebastian.” Shit. Did I already introduce myself? I can’t seem to remember; like I can’t stop my eyes from roaming over her again as she passes by, her shoulder brushing my chest.
A charge from that brief contact rushes through me and I catch my breath. I can’t believe I’ve never seen this woman before, and I know I would have remembered if I had. Her beautiful hazel eyes and the way the color shifts from green to gold in the fluorescent lights. Or how she smells like strawberries and rain despite being covered in kitten pee. Or how the embarrassed flush on her cheeks makes her even prettier than the composed woman who walked in five minutes ago.
Dr. Hot.
I’m never going to live that down. Rach will have it on a name tag by lunch. Beaumont will probably learn to say it.
As she walks past me into the exam room, I catch myself checking for a wedding ring. Nothing. Not that it matters. I don’t date clients. It’s unprofessional and complicated and?—
“You introduced yourself out front.” She smiles and unzips her jacket completely, revealing the kitten. “I’m Flick Patel.”
“Flick,” I repeat, just to make sure I got it right. “Nice to meet you.”
“Is that... normal?” She points at Gerald, who’s rearranging himself on my shoulders for optimal mischief positioning.
“Gerald? He’s my assistant today. Better with small animals than I am, honestly.” I scratch the ferret’s head, grateful for the distraction from my wildly inappropriate thoughts. “Fair warning—he’s a pickpocket. But he usually returns things. Eventually.”
