by Jewel, Bella
“But you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“It’s not rocket science. I’ve washed a dog before, you know.”
My head pounded and every reserve I had left evaporated. “Fine. You do that one and I’ll do this one.” Picking up the last trembling nugget of dog, we both lowered them slowly into the water, murmuring nothingness as they yelped before finally relaxing enough for us to scrub the filth from their fur and make sure there were no open sores.
Ryder and I didn’t talk, focusing entirely on helping Corn and Chip.
The water turned brown, and we placed the drenched pups back onto the towel to change the water. Once fresh warmth was supplied, we rinsed them off, then rubbed them down as best we could.
I didn’t want them to get a chill.
Apart from a few cuts on one of the Chiweenies legs and the gunky eyes, they weren’t too bad. I applied topical disinfectant to the wounds, administered eye drops which would start the course of three times a day, and finally took a deep breath as my heart laboured to keep me standing while fever and flu ravaged my insides.
I need to go home.
Stat.
“Okay then.” I coughed. “They should be all right for now. Give them a few days to get over the shock and then bring them in again and we’ll gather some blood and check their dental and claws.”
“Wait, you don’t want to do that tonight?”
Oh my God, you think I can find their teeny tiny vein when you’re fuzzy and standing right in front of me?
Wait, why was he so close?
“No, they can hold on. Might be shgood to let them rest a little. Their adrenaline will be sky high. Might screw up the shreadings.”
“Doc?” Ryder leaned closer. “You’re slurring.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
He nodded. “You are. Want to tell me what’s going on with you? Just how sick are you?”
I raised a shaking hand at the door. “Not sick at all. Oh, look at the time. It’s leaving time. Goodbye. Take your newest family members and shoo.”
“I don’t take orders, Vesper.”
“Don’t use my name; I’m Doctor Fairfax.”
“You just gave me permission to use your first name.” He frowned. “Don’t you remember?”
Some sort of hazy memory returned. “Yes, I mean…well, I did, but it might be best if we stick to professional titles.”
“No deal.” Ryder held up the puffy clean pooches. “You’re a doctor to them, but to me you’re just a woman with a pretty name after a scooter.”
Ugh, I’m not named after a scooter.
I was named after the Vesper Cocktail made from vodka, gin, and kina lillet—thanks to my father and his love of old fashioned drinks. He never just had a beer to unwind, he’d have a Pisco Sour or Sazerac.
Thinking of my dad made my already bad mood even worse.
Pushing his arm (doing my best not to squeeze the very hard muscles I found there), I coughed, “It’s after hours, Mr. Carson. If you don’t leave now, I’m going to start charging triple time.”
“It’s Ryder. And I thought you were charging that this entire consultancy.” He looked at the clock. “After all, it’s nine p.m. You guys closed at seven.”
Crap, how did it get so late?
No wonder I was a damn zombie.
I brushed past him, no longer caring about decorum or professionalism. “Time to go. Now.” I swayed as I entered the reception area, cringing as my hip bashed into the desk where Amanda usually sat during normal hours. Now, the clinic was shrouded in darkness. Even the animals in the recovery bay, overseen by eager vet students for the night, were quiet.
Grabbing my handbag and car keys from the small safe beneath the desk, I startled as Ryder came up behind me. “You won’t need these.”
He stole my keys.
“Hey! Give those back!” I spun, crashing into the chair and sending it scooting over the linoleum. I coughed—embarrassingly it was a blend like a Chihuahua’s bark and a paper bag wheezing.
“No chance. You can barely walk in a straight line. If you think I’m gonna let you drive, you’re a moron.”
“Don’t call me a moron.”
“I can call you what I want seeing as you’re determined to kill yourself.” Keeping both dogs under his arm, he wrapped his free one around my shoulders. “Now, tell me where you live. I’m taking you home.”
Chapter Six
Ryder
“WHAT? I’M NOT TELLING YOU where I live. Who asks that?” Vesper jumped for her keys; fever bright in her eyes and congestion loud in her breathing.
Poor woman was sick as hell, yet she’d stayed and helped tend to two dogs who had no one else. The fact she hadn’t flogged me off or told me to return tomorrow increased my respect for her a thousand fold.
And with respect came desire and affection.
I’d lusted after this woman for months. I’d grown hard over her jokes and ached for our stupid flirtation. But now, I felt something else. Something deeper and more meaningful. I wanted to take care of her the same way she took care of her patients.
And if that meant making her angry, so be it.
Keeping the keys out of her reach, I grunted, “The guy who plans on driving you home to keep you safe is asking.”
“Well, too bad. I’m not telling. Besides, I don’t need a damn chauffeur.”
“You do when you’re sick as a dog—no pun intended. I kissed one of the Chiweenies on his tiny head. “You’re not sick. Not anymore, are you?” Making eye contact with her again, I added, “They’re on the mend because of you. The least I can do is return the favour.”
“Don’t worry about it. You paid me.” Jumping for her keys, she sneezed loudly, bending over with a groan.
Goddammit, I’d suspected she was sick the moment I’d seen her but my selfishness to get the dogs sorted meant I hadn’t seen how bad she’d deteriorated.
As we’d worked side by side, fixing the two mistreated Chiweenies (still hated that name, by the way) she steadily grew worse.
She hadn’t even noticed her business partner pop her head in while we were elbows deep in dirty bath water to say she was heading home and to lock up.
I’d nodded but Vesper had been a freaking automaton washing the pooch and doing her best to swallow and blink through red eyes.
I knew the feeling when the flu hit out of the blue.
And I remembered my mother looking after me when I swore I didn’t need looking after.
I didn’t know if Vesper had anyone but if she was like me and alone, there was no way in hell I was leaving her until she’d been taken care of.
Wait, she might have a boyfriend.
I’d already tried to assess that annoying question last time but still had no answer. Surely, she wouldn’t joke with me if she did? It would be past inappropriate and waltzing into cheating territory.
And Vesper was not a cheater. I didn’t know how I knew that, but I did.
Tucking her keys into my back pocket, I asked, “Do you live alone?”
Her eyes bugged. “Oh my God, your questions just get creepier and creepier.”
“I’m not asking if you’re alone in order to cut you into tiny pieces. I’m asking if there is a boyfriend I can call to get you instead.”
Don’t have a guy.
Don’t already share that bangin’ body with someone.
I didn’t mind some competition, but at the same time, I wasn’t a home wrecker.
She rubbed her temples with another groan. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Shit, that just made hard again.
“Flat mate? Friend? Sister? Anyone you live with?”
“Nope.” She sighed heavily. “Just me, myself, and I. And already this—” She wiggled her finger between me, her, and the Chiweenies “—is a crowd.”
Holding out her hand, she muttered, “Please, just give me the keys and let me go home. I need to go home.”
>
“I agree with the need to go home part, but you’re not driving.” Grabbing her handbag that’d fallen to the floor in another sneezing fit, I strode toward the exit. “Come along, Cinderella, you’ve expired and it’s time to get the pumpkin back in the garden.”
She trotted after me, holding her head. “Wait, did you just call me a pumpkin?”
“Will it make you easier to get into the car?”
“By being called a vegetable?” She crossed her arms. “No chance.”
“How about if I call you Darling or Snookums or Princess Puppy Ruler. Will that make you drop down your need to do everything yourself and let me drive you home?”
She froze. “I don’t have a pathological need to do everything myself, you know.”
“Good.” I huffed. “Then you’ll let me drive and quit arguing.”
She threw up her hands. “There truly is no winning with you, is there?”
I grinned. “Nope.”
Glowering, she muttered, “In that case, I guess I don’t have a choice.” Pushing on the exit, she stalked into the cooler night air. Summer had us in a hot grip but the nights were nippy—perfect for sex on a rug in front of a fire or cuddling under blankets.
My cock stiffened at the thought. Then deflated remembering how sick she was. I’d made progress and invited myself to her house (was that classified as a date or not?) but there would be no getting lucky tonight. Not that I really wanted to kiss her when she was ill.
My eyes tracked to her full peach lips where she’d licked and nibbled as she did her best to breathe.
Her plump glistening mouth made me hard again.
Nope, no way did I want to kiss her.
I didn’t do germs.
But you could…just this once.
Nope.
Fuck, who was I kidding? I would kill to fucking kiss her.
Tearing my eyes away, I made sure to lock up seeing as she’d forgotten in her flu state, and after fumbling with two dogs, her handbag, and finding the right key, I followed her to a dinged up Honda Accord and opened the back door to put the puppies on the back seat.
I was exhausted.
Shit, how did women juggle so much crap and not get totally frustrated?
Vesper craned her neck to look at the Chiweenies through the window. “Wait, you’re not bringing them with us, are you?”
“It’s cold and they’re still damp from their bath. I’m not gonna leave them in my car.”
“But—”
I closed the back door; quickly glancing to make sure my ride (a vintage Mustang—yeah baby) was safe in her practice’s parking lot. I’d get a cab back to it later once Sleeping Beauty here was in bed.
Instantly, images of her in sexy lingerie with spread legs attacked my cock.
Christ, don’t think about her in bed.
Clearing my throat, I forced myself to visualise flannel pyjamas and flu medicine. “I’ll deal with it when we get to your place, okay?”
She grumbled under her breath but allowed me to open the passenger door and wait until she’d thrown herself inside.
I hated that she was sick, but I also couldn’t stop the victory bounce in my step as I got behind the wheel and drove her home.
Chapter Seven
Vesper
HE’S IN MY HOUSE.
How the hell did this happen?
The embarrassment level increased to a 10.0 on the Richter scale as Ryder Carson—sex god and puppy superhero strode into my lounge and placed the two shivering Chiweenies onto my blanket scattered couch.
Visa (my marmalade bitch of a cat) took off down the cramped corridor in utmost disgust and betrayal. I’d brought animals home from the practice before—especially those who needed through the night care—but she never accepted sharing her space with foreigners.
I’d named her after a joke with Polly when a few weeks into our degree, I had a craving to hold a live happy pet after dissecting cold dead ones. I had no money—my education was on a loan, my rent was on a grant from the university, even my food was on the credit card.
It was very unwise to even contemplate more expense with a living breathing liability. But when we’d passed a pet shop with one tiny orange kitten pressing its wet nose against the glass, I couldn’t resist.
When they asked how I was paying for her, I said what I always did ‘put it on the Visa.’
It kind of stuck.
“Well, this is different to what I expected.” Ryder glanced around the small second-story apartment. Instead of looking disgusted at my mess from the past few days as I worked overtime and didn’t have time to clean, he merely grabbed an old jumper on the floor and rolled it into a sausage to wrap around the dogs so they had a little bed with sides.
Seriously, who is this guy?
I didn’t care at all that he’d used my jumper without permission; all I cared about was how kind he was to those who needed help.
And now, he’d turned that helpful kindness onto me.
Stalking toward me, he splayed his hands as if I was about to bolt like a terrified pony. “I’m not gonna touch you, but I do think you should go for a warm bath. It’s best to sweat out the chill and let yourself relax.” He frowned. “You do have a bath, right?”
I backed away, betraying myself with looking at the small bathroom down the corridor. “Yes, and no you may not see it.”
The mess in there from the toothpaste disaster I had this morning would make me die of mortification.
He gave me a look then took off down the corridor.
“Hey!” Before I could stop him, he swung open the door and laughed. “What the hell happened in here? It looks like a mint crime scene.”
I groaned, stumbling after him. “The tube was blocked and I squirted too hard.” I cringed as I looked over his shoulder. The single basin and tiny mirror wore massive globs of mint swirled toothpaste.
“Ah, the good ole’ exploding paste routine.” He chuckled. “I’ve had that happen before.”
“You have?”
“Of course.” He nodded. “Come on. Don’t worry about it.” Grabbing some toilet paper (thankfully, the loo was clean), he scooped up the mess and threw it into the trash. “Now that the crime scene is clean, let’s focus on you.”
Looking at me in the mirror, the intensity in his hazel eyes made my cheeks warm and another explosive sneeze to hurl me backward into the corridor.
This wasn’t fair.
Here he was—drop dead gorgeous and so sweet—standing sexually tempting in my apartment. Meanwhile, I couldn’t see through watery eyes and barely concentrate through a fever and pounding head.
I pulled out my ponytail, massaging the back of my nape. “Why are you doing this? Just being near me might make you sick.”
He’d been in my car for fifteen minutes driving me home, and stood close to me while washing the Chiweenies. Could he already be sick? Was the flu contagious at the very start of symptoms or after a few days?
I don’t know.
I was a vet not a doctor.
Ryder never stopped staring, making me uncomfortable and hotter than I could stand. “Don’t worry about why. Just let me do it.” Turning around, he fumbled with the taps in the bath, wrenching on hot water.
He’s going to wash me like the Chiweenies.
I dug my fingers into my eye sockets, trying to get a grip on how ill I felt. I didn’t want to miss this. Ryder Carson might never want to come near me again after seeing me at my worst. I wanted to remember this, dangnamit.
Water splashing in the bath was suddenly followed by the sounds of bath salts being poured into the wet warmth.
Wait, how did he—
Did he just rummage through my cupboards? The vanilla bath salts were tucked beneath the sink—next to a super saver box of tampons and an unopened bottle of lube.
Holy crap, kill me now.
“Can you please just forget everything you’ve seen tonight?” I hung my head in my hands.
Ryder laughed
beneath his breath. “You mean the apocalypse worth of tampons and the dusty, out-of-date lubricant?”
“Ugh, yes that. Also, please delete the sniffling, stuffed-up vet who would really like you to go home and leave her in peace.”
“Leave?” He clutched his heart. “Man, you know how to hurt a guy.”
I blinked. “You’re telling me you don’t want to run a mile after seeing my messy apartment and—”
He came forward, a sultry but sweet smile on his face. “I’m not forgetting a thing about tonight. I have a feeling you like to be in control of everything in your life. This might be the only time I’m allowed to boss you around and do what I want without you calling the police.”
Damn, he nailed me.
His hands came up, cupping my cheeks with warm, soft fingers. “Vesper, you’re sick. You live alone. What sort of person would I be if I judged you on how many tampons you have?” He swallowed a smirk, his thumbs caressing my feverish cheekbones. “After all, you might use them for other hobbies such as flower arranging or cat toys.”
He cocked his head. “You have to admit, the round cotton with its little string is the perfect mouse for whatever orange fluff ball that ran into your bedroom.”
I couldn’t do it.
Not only had he taken away my embarrassment, he’d made a joke that made my knees wobbly which had nothing to do with my shakes.
“God, what are we doing?” I swayed forward. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“Why?” Ryder let go of my face, guiding me to his chest where I rested my heavy forehead for a moment. His delicate breathing tickled my scalp as he ran his hands down my sides, lingering on my hipbones before pushing me away. “I thought it was obvious.”
My throat scratched painfully as he whispered, “I like you, Vesper.”
Is it possible for a heart to self-implode?
Because I think mine just did.
Clearing his throat from the build-up of wanton lust, he murmured, “And what we’re doing is getting you better so we can argue and flirt and get on each other’s nerves some more. You still owe me that date—I’ll let you get out of it tonight, but then it’s time to pay up.”