Annaleigh: Hate that you have to go back to work, but you are
killing it on the job front! Lunch this week?
Me: Absolutely. I’ll text you later.
Annaleigh: Sounds like a plan. Don’t let Dr. Dumbass get you down.
Me: Thank you, I won’t.
Annaleigh: I hope not. You’re too damn talented to get hung up on what one old fart thinks.
Smiling now, I slipped my phone back in my scrub pants and made my way to the front desk, stopping to glance at the aromatherapy lotions.
“Miss Crews, I hope you found your treatment today to your liking. Your certificate includes three, so I took the liberty of booking your next appointment, with Charlie, of course.”
My inner lioness did a little growl of approval. “Thank you, it was. I look forward to using Charlie again.”
Geezus, I sounded like a perve.
But knowing I’d see Mr. Muscles again released a smidge of my ever-present stress. The massages had been a gift—a sweet but unnecessary gesture from my friend Annaleigh and her boyfriend Max to say thank you for saving their fur baby. It was nothing but a lucky coincidence. One evening, I was walking Baxter, Annaleigh’s boxer, when he ate something toxic. Activated charcoal was in my truck, and Baxter had no lasting issues. Nonetheless, I was grateful to have access to Mr. Muscles.
On the way back to the clinic, I rolled down the windows in my red SUV, enjoying the balmy seventy-degree weather and making a quick detour to a plant nursery, staying long enough to grab a little cactus in a small ceramic pot for my desk.
Upon finally arriving atAMC, the lights were off, and relief washed through me.
No humans to deal with…
Opening the door as quietly as possible, I took my clogs off and tiptoed to my office, not wanting to wake the animals tuckered out for the night.
“Meow. Meow. Meow.”
Dang-it!
Peeking around my door was Chick, a petite calico cat with her ears back and hackles raised.
“How’s my girl?” She stared at me for a moment before hopping closer on three legs.Picking her up, she settled on my lap while I completed the unfinished charts from the day.
“I tried to be quiet, Chick. I know you were sleeping. Did you get enough snuggles today?”
The sweet furball looked at me and meowed again, attracting another stowaway that brushed against my leg. Reaching down, I scooped up Duck, our white and gray short-hair cat, and laid him next to Chick. They booped noses before settling contently on my lap.
We adopted Chick and Duck as our office cats after one of our oldest clients passed away. They were a bonded pair, and the vet techs and I couldn’t bear the thought of separating them. We shared their responsibility, but I had a particular soft spot for these two because they were the only cats that liked me.
Several hours later, my eyes felt like sandpaper, and I had finished the last of my charting and checked the appointment book. Stella, the bulldog, was due for a C-section, and Herman, the Great Dane, was having a hip replaced. I stuck a note on my computer with those reminders and shut everything down before standing up to stretch, feeling the good ache Mr. Magic Hand’s muscular touch left.
As I made my way to the exit, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and slipped my clogs back on, pulling out my short brown ponytail and running my hands through my hair. Then I completed my initial lock-up routine of the office, set the alarm, and took one step outside when bright headlights turned into the parking lot.
It took a minute for me to register the light bar on top of the vehicle and the push-bumper. By the time I figured out it was a police officer, I had one hand lifted in greeting and the other one shading my eyes from his headlights.
Had I accidentally set off the alarm? Was there something wrong?
I waited for the officer to pull beside my car, and when he did, the door opened and out stepped a man as tall as a sequoia. No, a cypress. Was there anything taller than a cypress?Yep.This guy.
I looked up, then kept looking as he stepped out and walked my way. His hair was light blonde, cropped close to his scalp, and in the dim light, I could see tattoos peeking out of his shirt collar and down both arms. He looked solid and hard, with broad shoulders that stretched his uniform shirt across his upper body.
He was holding his hands close to his chest, whispering to something as he came closer. Moving quieter than someone his size should, he lifted a hand in greeting.
More tattoos. Nice.
