Page 74 of His Temporary Assistant

My heart gave a little kick when I recognized my hot dad from the park. His flyaway hair was in a little more semblance of order, but those sharp cheekbones and that lilting accent were definitely the same.

Preston came up beside me while the vet discussed the things to be aware of when choosing a special needs cat. After a moment, PMS laid a proprietary hand on my lower back.

My skin did not sizzle. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed.

“I’m not here to dissuade you from taking on a geriatric cat who needs a little more medication, or one of our more serious cases. I’m just here to answer any questions if you are of a mind to take on an animal who may need just a bit more love. We appreciate all of you for coming today. I’ll be walking around while you’re on your dates.” Dr. Thorne gave us a wide, dimpled smile and handed the mic back to Beverly.

This round of the speed dating would be slower in deference to the animals who required a little more care.

The vet caught sight of me and crossed the room. “Ryan, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“You know him?” Preston blurted.

I ignored him. “Hi, Grant. And look at you, this time you’re not even sweaty.”

“Excuse me?”

I swallowed the smile, but I was still annoyed at the hand-on-my-back thing. Hot then cold, in my business then pushing me away—PMS needed to figure out that I wasn’t his plaything. “I ran into Grant in the park today. He was chasing his dog that got loose.”

“And the fair Ryan was sweet enough to watch my daughter while Bosco sent me on a merry chase.”

“Daughter…oh, so you’re married?” Preston sounded positively giddy. For him anyway.

Grant slid his gaze to Preston. “‘Fraid not, mate. Just a dad.”

“Oh.”

“Are you interested in one of our special cases? I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.” Grant held out his hand.

“Preston Shaw.”

Their shake was firm and possibly a little overdone. I rolled my eyes and hip-checked PMS. “He hasn’t found his perfect cat yet. But he’s definitely interested. Especially if one would be good for an office space as well as a home.”

PMS gaped at me. “The animal doesn’t need to come to work with me.”

“But it would be a plus. Especially if they’re good with people.”

Grant looked from me to PMS and back. “Well, we do have a three-year-old cat who may just fit that bill.” He nodded to a gray cat who had just been released from a carrier. “We just transferred the cat from a kill shelter in Chicago so he’s had a bit of a rough start. But he’s healthy and good-natured.”

We followed the veterinarian to the pen.

A small face popped out of the carrier with a red collar and a shiny silver bell.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Preston gave me a sidelong look. “What?”

The cat buzzed the side of his head along the wires of the carrier before scampering out on three legs.

Well, that wasn’t quite like the cat who had been climbing in and out of my dreams, but he was damn close. Instead of a red tie, he had a collar, but dear goddess. He was a sleek and complete gray without any other patches of color save for a tiny white patch on his remaining front paw and another on the tip of his opposite ear.

“We don’t have a name for him,” Grant went on. “We’ve tried a few, but he doesn’t seem to be interested in any of them. So, you’d have your choice of names. And as you can see, the three legs thing doesn’t really hold him back.”

The cat did a feat of acrobatics around an arched…was that like a mobile for a child? Then he perched nimbly on top of it and started washing his chest.

Delighted, Grant rocked on his heels. “As you can see, not much holds him back.”

Preston had his arms crossed and he was nearly shouting with his closed off vibes, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off the cat.

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