AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Maybe she’d never know why they were all here. But in this one evening she’d felt more at home with them than she had in the last year living with supposed family. This place was supposed to just be a rescue for horses, but it seemed like they just might take in lost strays of the human variety too.
Chapter Nine
HUNTER
Hunter scraped the mud off his feet on the side of the concrete step by the back door of the clinic.
Right as he was about to open the door, it was yanked open from the inside and he was face to face with an irate Isobel.
“Where have you been? People have been waiting since I opened the doors at 8:30!”
He paused, taken aback. The whole drive here he’d been trying to tell himself she couldn’t possibly be as lovely or mesmerizing as his memory kept painting her. But here, standing in front of him looking pissed, with two spots of color high on her rosy cheeks, her black hair flying around her like a silky cloud that he just wanted to bury his hands in and—
He grimaced and pushed past her into the clinic’s small break room.
“Clinic doesn’t open ‘til 9:00.” He needed coffee. Now.
“And it’s 9:03.” She emphasized the oh-three like he’d committed an unforgiveable crime.
He was a grown man. He didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. Still, he found himself growling, “Had a call out at the Johnson farm that took longer than expected. Had to extract a dead calf.” Second one in two days. Happened like that sometimes. People didn’t call for the vet when everything was going peachy.
“What?” she spat, then paused as if only just then processing what he’d said. “Oh.” She blinked. “I’m sorry. That’s horrible.”
He shrugged as he reached for a mug from beside the sink. “Happens.” He pressed the coffee dispenser pump but only a tiny amount of liquid came out before it sputtered. Damn it. It was office policy to run another pot whenever it ran out. He glared at Isobel as he jerked open the cabinet underneath the coffee maker to pull out a packet of grounds.
So he saw when Isobel’s back went stiff. “If you had a case this morning, why didn’t you call me? This is supposed to be an internship. How am I supposed to learn how to do the job if you don’t let me know about calls?”
He scoffed as he set the new pot of coffee brewing. “Because experience working on heifers at a quarter to six in the morning is going to be so helpful when you end up back in New York City.”
If he thought she’d gone stiff before, it was nothing to how ramrod straight she went at that comment. She took a step forward and pointed a finger into his chest. “You don’t know anything about me.” Her voice was arctic.
He held up his hands. “Fine.”
“Fine,” she snapped back.
Then he realized just how close they were standing. Her face was about six inches away from his.
He had the absurd impulse to shove her back against the door and kiss the living daylights out of her.
Her eyes widened suddenly and she yanked back. “Your first client is waiting in exam room one.” She picked up a file from the counter beside the sink and slapped it in his hand.
He glanced down at the folder. Mr. Buttersworth. He was Mrs. Jones’ overweight, pampered cat. The cat bore a striking resemblance to his owner with his shock of orange hair and overlong whiskers. The woman had a mustache the bearded lady would be jealous of.
“Fine,” he said.
“Fine.” She glared at him for another second and then as if realizing she didn’t have any other reason to still be standing there, she spun on her heel and stomped toward the exam room.
The morning passed with the regular bevy of cats and dogs cycling through. Hunter did his best to ignore Isobel and focus on his job. A bit difficult when he had her holding his four-legged patients down while he examined them.
Did she wear her hair down today on purpose? To distract him? He’d swear she kept flicking it over her shoulder just so that whatever fruity shampoo she used would waft his direction.
Mr. Buttersworth was only in for shots, a quick and simple enough procedure. Their second patient, a huge St. Bernard named Bernie, however, was a bit more challenging. It took both the dog’s owner and Isobel to hold the big dog down so Hunter could pry his mouth open to see what was causing him so much pain. And in spite of the giant, slobbering, whining dog who tried to yank back each time Hunter touched his mouth, half of Hunter’s brain was distracted by the warmth of Isobel’s thigh against his as they wrestled the dog on the floor together.
He finally got the dog to sit still long enough to see that it was an abscess tooth causing all the trouble. That meant surgery since he needed to get down to the root of the tooth. Hunter gave Bernie a shot of antibiotics and Isobel went out with Bernie’s owner, promising her they’d find a way to fit the surgery in the schedule for the next afternoon.
It was just what Hunter would have done, but he was annoyed at her presumption. She should have at least asked him when was the best time to schedule the surgery.
A difficult to diagnose case with a molting parrot distracted him from thinking about her too much for the next hour.
