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Using an almighty dose of willpower, I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “Fine,” I said, on a sigh, standing and rolling my shoulders, which had suddenly concertinaed into a tense mass of muscle. Even that movement seemed to set Stacey staring, and so I hurriedly excused myself from her presence, asking her to tidy up the office for the evening.

I strode confidently down the clinic hallway, attempting to cover up my aversion to this next interaction, and emerged into the waiting area to find Mrs. Henderson making coochy-​coo noises through the front of Smudge’s carrier and promising every reward under the sun for “being such a bwave widdle soldier.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, but it hastily fell again as Mrs. Henderson clocked my presence and flung herself at me, wrapping her skinny arms around my middle and pressing her face into my blue, scrub-​top-​covered chest. For such a tiny-​framed person she was doing a very good job of squeezing the life out of me. “Oh, Dr. Murdoch! You’re my savior. Thank you for saving my Smudge’s life. I can’t thank you enough!”

I stood there, my arms hanging helplessly at my sides, that itchy sensation of discomfort making an unwelcome reappearance. I felt like an awkward giant compared to this wisp of an elderly woman and had no idea how I was supposed to react to having her Velcroed to my front. “I mean, I didn’t really save his life, Mrs. H. He was completely fine. It must have just been a hairball he brought up—”

“Ach, you’re just being modest! You’re a miracle worker, Dr. Murdoch.”

I shifted a little, hoping that might shake her off, but she didn’t budge. She was like a waxed-​jacketed, headscarf-​wearing limpet. “It really was nothing. Definitely no miracles involved.”

Mrs. H pulled back and relief flooded my veins at my imminent release. But then instead of dropping her arms, she kept them around my waist, dousing my short-​lived relief in cold disappointment. “Well, you’re a hero to me because my Smudge is just as precious as my dear old husband was.”

I lifted a hand to run through my hair, words failing me. Just then I caught the amused smirk of my receptionist, Ranjeeta, and I poured all my efforts into infusing a pleading look into my eyes. Help me.

She seemed to get the message because she left her post, still smirking, and came around the front desk to lift Smudge’s carrier. “Come now, Mrs. H. Let me carry Smudge to your car. He’ll be wanting home for a treat.”

As if joining in my salvation (or perhaps recognizing the word treat) Smudge meowed loudly.

Mrs. H released me from her terrifyingly firm grip and I let out a sigh of relief.

“That’s very sweet of you. Yes, I must get my Smudgey Wudgey home.” She took Ranjeeta’s arm as they made their way to the door, Ranjeeta shooting me a you owe me one look and me sending her an I will give you an immediate raise one in return.

Mrs. Henderson glanced over her shoulder as they left. “We’ll be back in a couple of weeks for his routine checkup!”

“Oh, there’s really no need now—” I started to say, my words hurried, but the door slammed shut behind her. My shoulders sagged a little as I headed off to finish my admin and tell Stacey she could clock out for the evening.

Once my tasks were finished, I left my room to search out Ranjeeta and found her locking up the rooms and cupboards. “Thanks for the rescue,” I said, aware that my voice sounded a little gruff.

She finished locking the last office door and turned to face me, a smile twinkling in her dark eyes. “No worries.”

I grabbed my jacket from the cupboard behind the reception desk, shrugging it on. “By the way, I’m not sure whether Stacey might be coming down with something. She’s been making weird squeaky noises and staring at me all afternoon.”

Ranjeeta shot me a knowing look as she put on her long down coat. “Yeah, she’s sick all right. Lovesick.”

I frowned in confusion, watching her lift her handbag from a drawer. “Lovesick?”

“Yep.” We headed for the front door. I switched off the lights along the way and held the door open for her as we left the building and entered the dark November evening. “She’s been asking about you all day. Saying how good you are with the animals and how sexy your voice is.”

My stomach bottomed out, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. And not in a good way.

“She was also asking about Aileen.”

I blinked hard at the sound of my ex’s name, a little shard of ice digging into my chest. “What about her?”

“Stacey knew you’d recently broken up with someone. She was asking if there was any chance of you two getting back together.”

A bubble of wry amusement surfaced and I suppressed the urge to let out a harsh laugh as I fished in my pocket for my keys. “No chance of that.”

Ranjeeta fell silent as I locked the doors, and I knew, without looking, that she’d be giving me a sympathetic stare. But I refused to look at her. “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing. That you were single but not looking.”

“Good,” I said, turning to face the street. The cold bit into my skin and my breath puffed out into a steamy cloud of condensation as I rubbed my hands together, my fingers already starting to chill in the cold Highland air. “Right. You best be off to get those wife and kids of yours sorted out,” I told her.

“Night, Kerr.”

I finally plucked up the courage to look at her. “Night, Ranjeeta. See you Monday.”