A clink of glasses and an outburst of laughter from the dining room behind us seemed to remind us both that we weren’t alone.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he dragged a hand through his thick hair. He glanced at his watch and grimaced. “I can’t do this right now.”
That was fine with me.
“But we still need to talk. Soon.”
I gave him a curt nod. As I stepped around him, I accidentally brushed his arm and felt the zing of the electricity that zapped between us. It would have been easy to explain it away as static from the cold, dry air, but it felt like so much more.
CHAPTER6
Zach
Back in my room—sans breakfast—I grabbed my wallet and keys, ready to storm back downstairs and head for a job I didn’t want.
Check that. I wanted to do the job, just not here. I wanted to be back in my nice penthouse with my loyal dog, headed to a state-of-the-art animal hospital, focusing on my goals rather than being submersed with memories of Emalee Dawson.
I caught a look in the mirror over the desk and was caught off guard by the reflection. Sure, the khaki pants and dark blue button-down with the checked tie were sharply pressed and professional looking for the job, but the man wearing them looked weary.
Despite the comfort of the bed, I’d spent the night tossing and turning, trying to rid myself of Emalee’s image. But there had been no pushing her out of my mind; I’d still woken up hard and aching for her. It hadn’t gone away until I’d taken things into my own hands, literally. It had only taken a few soap-slicked tugs, and I’d come hard over the tiled walls of the shower. I felt marginally better until I thought of her cleaning the bathroom, which led to thoughts of her in the shower—naked—and I’d been aroused again.Fuck.
This morning, I’d been determined to eat, go on my way, and focus on the job I was sent to do. But then I heard her laugh and greet the other patrons, making them all feel special. I remembered that warm, dulcet, southern drawl having the same effect on me once.
Lies.
It was all acting, and they were falling for it the same as I had. The only difference is they only turned over their money; I’d lost my heart.
The smart thing to do would have been to ignore her as best I could, keep my head down, do my job, and leave as soon as possible. Yet one look at her beautiful face with those whiskey-colored eyes and sweet smile that faded as she greeted me, and all rational thought fled. Instead, I’d followed her into another room and demanded answers, brought on by a need to understand how I’d been fooled so easily into thinking she’d once had real feelings for me. I was pissed at her, and even more pissed at myself for giving a damn.
And then she played the victim card, insinuating I’d cheated on her.
More lies.
She’d practically bolted from me the first chance she could without it looking bad in front of her guests. It probably made me an asshole for checking out her ass as she escaped, but damn, it was still hot in those tight jeans she wore.
I scrubbed a hand across my face, practiced my smile, and shrugged on my coat. Minutes later, I’d cleaned the snow off my car and was navigating my way down Main Street, amused by the unoriginal name of one of the central roads in downtown Sterling Mill.
But even with my cynicism, I couldn’t deny how pretty the town looked with the fresh snow dusting tree branches, roofs, and business signs that lined the street. At the end of the road was a traffic circle that encompassed a fountain, currently turned off, with several benches. On the opposite side of the roundabout was a three-story, red brick building with two smaller wings on either side and buff-colored stone columns marking the entrance. A domed cupola was perched on top, overlooking the downtown area like a guardian.
I followed the simple directions to Market Street, the other main avenue catty-corner to Main Street, and drove a short distance until I pulled up to the address Cynthia had sent me. A framed sign with carved, wooden letters announced I’d found Sterling Mill Animal Clinic. Not even a hospital, just a clinic.
Repeating to myself that this would be worth it in the end, I stood before the plain, square building with two large front windows and a door in the middle. The clapboard siding was painted gray, and the window trim and door were a bright teal color. It was nothing like the sleek, modern clinic I’d come from. Drawing a deep breath, I pushed open the door.
At least my first impression of the interior was better. Pale blue walls and light laminate floors made it feel clean and fresh, and the slight scent of lavender was pleasing, especially compared to the wet dog or musty smell I’d expected. A wooden bench ran along three of the walls for seating, and individual colorful prints of a dog, cat, parrot, and a horse decorated the small area and made it feel less “clinical.” To my surprise, I found I rather liked it.
“Well, hello! You must be the new doc. Welcome to Sterling Mill.”
A plump woman with gray hair hurried from behind the small counter and greeted me with a friendly smile. “I’m Wanda, Doc Claypool’s wife. I fill in when needed and take care of all the bookwork. I can’t tell you how grateful we are to have you. Harold has been worried sick over not being here, and you know that’s bad for him. He needs rest to recover, obviously. When Ed promised he was sending one of his best to fill in, we were so relieved. How awfully kind of you to drop everything and come to help out, even though I’m sure you weren’t expecting this. And of course, there was the snowstorm last night. None of us were expectingthat.But here you are, and oh, listen to me! I’m prattling on and on when you want to get to know the place.”
Her hands fluttered around almost as fast as her words. At least she was friendly. I held out my hand. “Zach Abbott. Nice to meet you.”
She hardly took a breath before she spun around and gestured with her hand. “Now this is obviously the waiting room.”
She bustled across the space, showing me the two exam rooms and the small operating room. I was shocked to see how modern most of it was. She opened drawers and cabinets and ran through available inventory before moving on to something else.
“We only schedule surgeries on Mondays unless it’s an emergency. We start appointments at nine every day and take our last appointment at four Tuesdays through Thursdays. Fridays, we start at seven, but we close at noon to make up for it. We’re open every other Saturday from nine to noon, and we close every day from noon to one, but sometimes, Harold makes house calls over lunch. Normally, we have a couple of openings we try to keep for emergencies, but sometimes, we have to fill those, too.”
I blinked at her, trying to absorb all the rapid-fire information. Six days a week seemed like a lot for one person, but at least the hours would make my time here go faster.
