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Hell, he was still smiling.
He tied the last suture on the young Doberman he’d just spayed. Monday’s morning lineup of routine surgeries didn’t stop him from thinking about Andie’s eyes looking up at him while she sucked his cock, or her soft but strong legs wrapped around his back, urging him deeper inside her body. Fuck. Too much detail going through his cerebrum.
His assistant, Sally, shook her head as she helped him settle the pretty Dobie into a recovery stall. His distracted state hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sally rolled her eyes at his grin and went about her duties. Keeping Sally had been part of the deal when he bought the clinic from a retiring vet. A lucky break for him, because she was as good as they came.
He turned and slammed into the clinic receptionist. A friendly girl he’d hired to appease his mother, Cara tended to be away from her post more than she was at it. No lucky breaks there. She’d have to be replaced. One day he’d be able to pay an office manager for stuff like that. For now, the job was his. Owning a clinic had its perks. Having to fire sub-par employees wasn’t one of them.
“Oopsie. Sorry, Dr. Lang.” Cara made a point of straightening any areas she may have wrinkled on his scrub shirt. Not too obvious, was she? “You have a call waiting. Andie Finkle, or was it Finley…”
“Neither, it’s Finch. Excuse me.” He practically sprinted down the hall to his office, shut the door and pressed the handset to his ear. “Hey.”
“Not the greeting I was expecting,” she said on a laugh.
“You’re right. Let me try again.” He waited a beat. “Hey, beautiful. I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the past twenty-four hours. I’m in withdrawal here.”
“Wow. Anytime I called my ex-husband at his office, he’d answer with, ‘This is Scott Finch’, all serious and businesslike, even though heknewit was me calling.”
Mason kicked his feet up on the desk. “Glad to hear I’ve surpassed your ex in one area.”
“Um, in more than one.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm hmm. Your scrambled eggs are way better.”
Anybody walking in on him right now would think he’d won the lottery or something. In a way he had. If it hadn’t been for the scheduling mix-up that landed his team on that smaller diamond Friday night, he never would have met Andie. His little sister might be right about the whole fate thing.
“So, in your hurry, you left your watch. And your socks. Would it be okay if I put them in an envelope and leave them with somebody in your office?”
“As long as that somebody is me, yes. If you swing by at one, I can take you to lunch.” The line went quiet. He pictured her fiddling with a piece of hair that had escaped its ponytail, biting down on her bottom lip. Her sexy, kind-of-shy look, as he was coming to think of it. “Anywhere you want, babe. Say yes.”
* * *
ANDIE
Andie parked in front of the West End Veterinary Hospital at five minutes to one. Mason had already seen every naked inch of her, up close and extremely personal, with the lights on. So why was she a nervous wreck about visiting him at his workplace in the middle of the day, fully clothed? Because of the rest of the world, that’s why. Time to suck it up. Mason had invited her here. She needed to check her insecurity about their age gap at the door.
A soft buzzer chirped her entrance. Mason stood at the reception desk with his back to the door. He wore a blue scrub shirt that accentuated his wide shoulders and faded jeans that showcased his fantastic ass. A pretty blonde with perfect hair and even better boobs stood in profile, crowding the space beside him, her manicured hand on his lower back. Unprofessionally low. As in, practically on his butt.
Sour heat curled in Andie’s stomach as Mason and the girl looked in her direction. Both of them smiled, but their smiles said completely different things. Unquestionably, the young woman wanted to get her hooks in Mason. Too bad for blondie. Andie was nowhere near ready to throw him back in the pond.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He ditched the blonde and strode to her, dipped his head and kissed her like he meant it. Yum. “You want a tour before we go?”
“Yes, please.” Before removing her arms from his waist, she dropped her hands and gave his behind a nice, long squeeze. Take that, Miss D-cups.
Mason’s clinic closed to appointments between one and two, but still had plenty going on. He introduced her to his two assistants, Sally, a quiet brunette somewhere in her mid-thirties, and Paula, a fresh-out-of-college redhead who favored hot-pink everything. Lipstick, nails, uniform scrubs. Suddenly, Andie craved a piece of bubblegum.
Mason showed her the exam rooms, the lab and x-ray areas, his office and the surgery room. Everything was immaculate. Not flashy or brand-spanking new, but impressive.
“Saved the best for last,” he said as he led her into a room with small, stainless steel cages on one wall and larger stalls on another.
Four of the cages housed feline patients. Andie looked in at each one. Mason stood behind her, close enough to send her body temperature up several degrees.
“We neutered this tabby this morning. He’ll go home later today. The white cat had a fatty cyst removed and the black one is here for blood work. This pretty Siamese kitty is Knight. We’re giving him subcutaneous fluids because he hasn’t been drinking at home.” He popped the door and gently stroked Knight’s head. “He has a lot of cancer and not a lot of time left.”
The bottom fell out of Andie’s stomach. “I don’t know how you do this job. Constantly dealing with diseases and death.”
“Not every day has tragedies.” He shut the cage quietly and steered her across the room. Stopped in front of a large kennel and whispered in her ear, “Plus, there are always puppies.”
