“Och, I should be thanking you as well.” For the first time, Luch’s hard expression dropped, and when he looked down at Oban, a smile wreathed his face.
It was a lightning flash in stormy clouds, lighting his entire face, and my breath caught.
Aye, this man could be dangerous in more ways than one.
“Nae bother. Happy to help.”Please leave. Please just go. For some reason, the more Luch lingered, the more uneasy I became. “Hope your day goes better, Luch.”
“It’s Dr. Carmichael, actually.” Luch held my gaze over Oban’s head. “Dr. Luch Carmichael. I’m really impressed with your work here today, Dr. Fletcher. I know how hard it can be to treat accident wounds. It’s a miracle, really, that Oban wasn’t more injured. Isn’t it?”
Bloody hell, the man was a doctor. I knew he’d had some medical training, but this was my worst nightmare.
“I can’t say. I didn’t see the accident. How was it he got hit by the car again?”
My shot hit home. Luch winced, and his brows drew together as he looked back down at Oban.
“I didn’t close the gate. It’s my fault my wee pal got hurt.”
“It’s a tough lesson, but you’re certainly lucky it wasn’tworse.”Please leave.The pain from healing Oban roiled around inside me, and I needed my tea, some food, and a nap …now.
“Give him lots of love today,” I said, letting out a shaky sigh of relief when Luch finally left the practice. Quickly locking the door, I moved past where Luch stood in front of the practice and was almost around the building to the stairs to my flat when his words followed me.
“I’ll be certain to do so. Thanks for all your …work, Dr. Fletcher.”
Bloody hell. Was I just super sensitive because of my exhaustion or had Dr. Luch Carmichael been far more astute than I imagined?
CHAPTER THREE
Luch
As promised, Oban crashed as soon as I got him home, curling up in his comfy bed and letting out the cutest wee dog snores a pup could emit. I’d conducted my own examination once we’d gotten home, but he truly seemed no worse for wear other than the stitches in his side. It was a miracle, that was for sure, and one that had me on edge.
Now I stood at my front window, a fire crackling in the grate for wee Oban, even though I typically ran hot. Rain sleeted outside, the forest surrounding my house shrouded in murky light, the waters of Loch Mirren choppy. The sharply edged waves reflected my mood, as did the rain, and I cracked the window open to let in a cool breeze. Scents of the forest came with it, the moss creeping up old trees, damp earth, a tinge of salt from the waters of the loch.
She’d smelt like spring.
A soft spring rain, to be exact. After the first flowers had bloomed, and a gentle mist of rain caressed their petals, releasing their scent into the dewy morning air.
Dr. Faelan Fletcher was an enigma. She was tall, taller than most women I knew, and it hadn’t taken much for her to meet my eyes in challenge. And challenge me she had. The woman was hiding something, of that I was sure … but what?
Her eyes were a contradiction. Much like the words she was saying didn’t quite match her actions, they shifted between slate gray and brilliant blue, seemingly unable to decide which direction they wanted to go.
Would the color deepen when she was aroused?
Annoyed at the thought, I shifted away from the window and went to my kitchen to make another cup of tea. There was no reason I should be thinking of the sexy veterinarian like that. And yet, I’d just thought of her as sexy. Again.
Because,bloody hell, but she was. Soulful eyes just hinting at sadness, thick auburn hair bundled messily on her head, and soft curves shifting under her loose jumper. She’d known, instantly, when I’d suspected something was amiss, her shoulders straightening.
Leave it alone, Luch.
She’d healed Oban, hadn’t she? What did it matter how?
I knew why it mattered, but right now, I couldn’t go there.
Wincing again as I replayed the accident in my head, I swore softly under my breath as I flicked the kettle on. Oban was typically really good about stayingclose to me and usually I closed the gate that lined my expansive property line. It was an old gate, just a worn wooden door hinged to a stone wall that had likely bordered my land for a century or more, but still I always made a point to latch it. Mainly to keep any stray dogs out.
But today I’d been distracted. It had been a long shift at the hospital, I’d lost a patient, and I’d carried that melancholy home with me. I’d been checking my phone when I’d come through the gate, and seeing I’d missed a few phone calls from my father, I must have forgotten to close it.
I never particularly enjoyed seeing a missed call from my father.
