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CHAPTER TWO

ELSIE

I nudge open the door to the animal observation ward, mentally bracing myself for a repeat of this morning’s tragic piglet opera. Instead, I get… nasally snoring. Beans is flat on his side, deeply, gloriously asleep, his little piggy legs twitching. Is he… dream-galloping? I log his vitals—normal, again. Temperature? Normal. I’m pretty sure the little stinker pulled a fast one this morning. I roll my eyes and head back to my office to wait until Beans’ smoking hot owner comes back. I’m in so much trouble here.

I’m not even pretending I’m supposed to get work done with Beckett’s handsome face haunting my brain. His muscular arms. His killer shoulders. That look he gave me like he was two seconds away from bending me over the exam table and making me forget my own freaking name.

I jam my elbows on my desk and tuck my face in my hands, groaning like a lovesick sixteen-year-old. Jesus. I just spent twenty minutes thinking about the hottie instead of writing up Beans’ chart. I’m a disaster today. Every time the phone rings, my heart leaps straight into my throat like a caffeinated squirrel. Hanna peeks her head in, grinning like she knows every dirty thought in my head. “It’s Mr. Hot again,” she whispers, voice full of pure evil glee. The fact that she calls him Mr. Hot isn’t helping.

Nope, not happening. Not picking up. If I hear his voice, my brain will fully melt down, and I’ll probably end up charting nonsense while fantasizing about how yummy he smells—like cedar and danger and very bad ideas.

So, I make Hanna field every call like the world’s biggest coward. My willpower is already on life support. If I hear that deep, gruff voice, I’ll probably forget how to spell my own name.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I make it through two puppy vaccinations and a surgery consult without accidentally calling anyone “Daddy,” which is a major win. But every time I close my eyes, all I can see is that impossible green stare, those huge hands, and the way his voice got rough when he asked about visiting Beans. The man has a voice like bourbon and velvet, all sharp edges and slow burn heat. I’m pretty sure if he ever said my name in that gravelly “you’re-mine-now” tone, I’d melt straight through the floor.

I try to focus on my charting. I really do. There’s a whole stack of paperwork and four urgent emails waiting for me, and I swear I’m going to get through at least one before my brain short-circuits. But then I remember the way Beckett Hot’s huge hands flexed as he gently petted Pork. The way he smiled when he talked about his ridiculous pets.

Not that I noticed how his biceps strained against his shirt or anything. Nope. Not at all.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, I’ve given up all hope of accomplishing anything useful, so I do the only logical thing. I open my phone and stalk Beckett Hot’s social media like a total psycho.

Holy cow. He’s even hotter in real life, but the pictures? Fudge me. Shirtless in the river with his dog and pig, wet hair slicked back, glowering at the camera. In his uniform, all broad shoulders and bossy command. There’s one in a suit at a wedding, and I almost swallow my tongue. I want to lick every inch of that man. I want those hands all over me, pinning me to any surface he wants. I want him to growl my name and ruin me.

I bite my lower lip and try not to moan out loud in my office. Jesus Christ, Elsie, get a grip.

But it’s useless. I’m a wreck, and it’s all his fault.

Hanna, my tech, sticks her head in the door, interrupting my inappropriate thoughts. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Adorable is here.”

“Don’t even go there,” I grumble and follow her out to the first exam room. I grit my teeth and try not to trip over my own feet on the way down the hall because my brain is screaming that Beckett Hot is about to be within arm’s reach and my body is ready to humiliate me in a new and spectacular fashion. Maybe I’ll just spontaneously combust. Save us all the trouble.

Hanna gives me a knowing look as she pushes open the exam room door. “Try not to drool,” she whispers, just low enough that only I can hear her. Rude. But also, kind of warranted.

Because… WOW.

He’s already inside, larger than life, leaning one hip against the counter like he owns the place. His uniform shirt is gone, replaced by a Henley that’s so criminally fitted it should be illegal. Those arms are just as gigantic as I remember. And now I can see a sliver of a tattoo peeking out from beneath his sleeve. My ovaries throw confetti. Holy mother of all things sinful, that isn’t just a tattoo. That is a freaking invitation to lick him from wrist to shoulder and maybe all the way up his neck. I’m staring. I know I’m staring. I can’t help myself.

His eyes catch mine, and the temperature in the room jumps about twenty degrees. Green. So sharp and focused, I almost drop the iPad in my hands.

“Is Beans okay?” Beckett’s voice hits me like a body blow. Low. Lethal. A little rough, like he just got out of a fight—or maybe straight out of my dirtiest fantasy.

“Yep.” I clear my throat and try not to pant. “He’s doing great. Already tried to con two different techs out of snacks.”

He grunts, but his mouth ticks up at the corner. I want to bite that mouth. Hard. I want to crawl into his lap and see what happens when those giant hands get tired of being gentle.

“Come with me and we’ll go find Beans.” My voice is way too breathless. I sound like I just ran a marathon or had a dirty dream about him. Oops. My bad.

He locks his eyes on me, and holy cow, my knees actually go weak.

“Lead the way.” There’s a rough edge to his voice that does all kinds of filthy things to my insides.

Hanna’s lurking in the corner, pretending to check supplies, but her eyes are glued to us. I ignore her, barely, and stride down the hall like I’m not picturing what he’d look like pressed up against the back of my office door.

I open the observation room door and bite my lip to keep from laughing. Beans is standing on his stubby legs with his big pink snout pressed to the glass, giving us the world’s saddest “please rescue me, I’m starving” routine. The little stinker is absolutely fine and already plotting his next snack heist.

Beckett Hot crowds in behind me, and I swear to God, my body goes into total meltdown. His heat is right there. His arm brushes mine, and suddenly, I forget how to breathe.

Beans lets out a squeal and starts tap-dancing, hooves drumming on the floor in perfect potbelly pig percussion as he barrels straight for Beckett.