“It’s just allergies,” he announces with a grin. “She’ll be back to her usual self with a little medicine. I see this a lot around this time of year. I’ll get some meds for you, and you can give them to her as needed.”
A wave of relief surges through me so powerfully that my knees almost give out. I sag against the metal exam table, resting my forearm on the polished surface so that I don’t embarrass myself by collapsing to the floor.
Cash holds Chanel out to me. When I take her, she cracks open one sleepy eye as if to complain about being out of his embrace. I kiss her little nose and thank my lucky stars that she’s not seriously ill.
“I’ll get that medicine for you,” Cash says.
Opening the door that leads deeper into the clinic, Cash vanishes inside to tug at some drawers that I can’t see.
“I'm sorry for rushing in here like a psycho,” I say, cradling Chanel in my arms and slowly rocking from side to side. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”
Cash leans his head out to look at me. “Don’t worry about it. There’s usually someone at the reception desk, but it’s her daughter’s birthday today, so I told her I could manage. Besides, you care about Chanel. You were just worried.”
He states that so matter-of-factly I can’t help but slowly smile.
“I do care about her,” I say. “Chanel is my whole world. I love her more than anything.”
Cash finishes grabbing what he needs, then comes back into the exam room, a grin on his handsome face. “Well, she’s in excellent health. You’re obviously a great bunny mom.”
His sweet comment makes me blush—again.
As if sensing we’re talking about her, Chanel cracks open one dark eye to curiously look around before falling happily asleep again.
“You know, I got Chanel while I was in college,” I tell him. “I was living in the freshman dorm at the time and pets weren’t allowed, but I saw her peeking out from the window of a pet shop one day and I knew I had to have her. I felt like she was waiting just for me to come rescue her.”
I pause with a wince and cut myself off. For someone who doesn’t frequently talk too much, it’s always embarrassing when I go off on a tangent to someone who couldn’t care less. This is especially the case with my sweet Chanel. I could talk about her for hours.
However, Cash is gazing at me raptly, the bottle of allergy pills still in his hand.
“So, you hid her that whole year?” he presses curiously.
“Fortwoyears. I lived in the dorms my sophomore year, too,” I answer with a grin that earns me an amused chuckle from Cash.
“You know what, that doesn’t surprise me one bit,” he muses as he gazes at me. “My first impression of you was spot on.”
My jaw drops with shock and my heart begins to hammer against my ribs.
What does Cash mean by that?
Is it too much to hope I actually stood out in some way other than being embarrassing?
I try to force myself to question him further, but I don’t have the courage.
He slides the medicine into a small bag and holds it out for me. When I take it, he reaches into the pocket of his white lab coat and produces a small business card as well.
“This has my cell number on it,” he says. “Call me if Chanel shows any other symptoms that worry you.”
Hoping my face isn’t too bright a shade of pink, I take the card. My fingers brush over his palm, sending bolts of electricity surging up my arm.
After we go to the reception desk and I pay, I slip my debit card back into my purse.
“I’ll walk you back out to your car,” he says. “The road in front of the clinic can get a bit busy and I want to make sure you get out all right.”
I nod, pulse dancing as he opens the door and allows me to walk outside first. He follows close behind and then falls into step beside me as he escorts me to my car. He waits patiently while I slide into the driver’s seat and settle Chanel on my lap, then he leans casually against the side of my car. Behind him, I spy a sleek black Harley parked near the side of the building. I know without asking that it belongs to the sexy, bad-boy vet.
“By the way, my dad was going to call you on Monday, but since you’re here I can just tell you,” Cash says. “He loved your designs and the samples you left with us. He can’t wait to get this launch going. I just have to finish putting the contract together and then it’ll be yours to sign. Call when you girls are ready, okay?”
I stare. Not only does he ride a motorcycle and care for animals, but he writes up contracts, too? It makes me wonder what other mad skills he has that I don’t know about.
