by Holly Hart
Due to my background in veterinary medicine, I was assigned the task of cleaning and treating the wounds and keeping the dog calm until the real veterinarian finally gets here.
The familiar sound of screaming hinges signals that someone has stepped into the front lobby area. I assume it’s the vet who was called as soon as this thin, shivering mess of a dog was brought to the shelter. Dr. DeWitt was busy at the time, but had promised to stop in as soon as her office closed for the day.
“Hi.”
My ears perk up at the sound of Caitlin’s familiar voice and my heart beats just a little faster, the same way it always does whenever she’s near. My mind and body find her more exhilarating than a shot of caffeine poured directly into my bloodstream.
In the three weeks that have passed since we signed the contract, we’ve spent every spare moment together. We’ve been doing the kind of things conventional couples do, like heading over to Aspen for an afternoon of skiing, going to the antique arcade in Manitou Springs, visiting a debut exhibition of an up-and-coming local artist Caitlin knows, meeting her parents, and planning our wedding. And making love whenever – and wherever – possible. It seems like the more I touch her, the more I want her.
I’ve grown so accustomed to her, need her so badly, that I can’t figure out how I managed to get by without her. She’s made the world a better, brighter place.
“I’m looking for Jeremy Caldwell,” I hear her tell whomever is manning the front desk. “He said he was coming here. That it’s his day to volunteer?”
“You must be Jeremy’s fiancée,” Sharilyn Byers, the shelter’s director, replies.
Caitlin hums a confirmation.
“It’s wonderful to meet you.” Sharilyn’s voice brims with enthusiasm. “He’s told me so much about you. C’mon, I’ll take you to see him, though I should warn you that he’s with a dog and it’s a bit grisly right now. So if you have a sensitive stomach, you might want to stay here until he’s ready to go.”
Despite straining my ears, I don’t catch Caitlin’s response, but a second later I hear the soft sound of footsteps in the hallway just before the door swings open.
Sharilyn pokes her head in. “Jeremy, there’s someone here to see you.”
Before I can respond, Sharilyn steps to the side and Caitlin enters the room. Her big green eyes widen with shock and she quickly closes the space between us and falls to her knees beside me.
“Oh my God,” she breathes out. “What happened to it?”
“Humanity,” Sharilyn says darkly. “That’s what happens to most of the animals that find their way into this place. The very people they love and trust do horrible things to them and we’re left to pick up the pieces.” She runs an experienced eye over the dog. “You’re doing a good job, Jeremy.” She reaches down and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll wait outside. Dr. DeWitt should be getting here soon to look at its leg.”
Caitlin waits until the door clicks closed behind Sharilyn before speaking.
“What’s wrong with its leg?” Her voice is thick with tears.
“Broken,” I tell her. “But I don’t know how badly, and we’re not sure if there are any internal injuries.”
“And if there are, then what happens?”
“It depends on how bad the injuries are. If Doc DeWitt doesn’t think anything can be done, she’ll put the dog to sleep, but if there’s any hope at all, he’ll be taken to the emergency vet and patched up.”
What I don’t tell her is that rather than forcing the shelter to dip into its limited funds to handle the dog’s medical bills, I’ll pay for everything, just like I have every other time one of the shelter animals needed more help than the shelter could readily afford.
“What happened to it?”
I quickly tell the story about the dog getting thrown out onto the highway as I pick gravel and bits of asphalt from yet another wound—At least I think it’s another wound; it’s hard to tell what is a new wound and what are just long, continual ones.
By the time I finish the dog’s heartbreaking tale, tears are streaming down Caitlin’s face. As much as I hate seeing her cry, the tears act as balm for my soul. They’re proof that not only are there good people in the world, but that I’ve beaten the odds and managed to find one for my very own.
Caitlin reaches out, gently touching the dog’s brow. To my surprise, he lifts his massive head only to lay it on her lap.
“Wow,” I breathe out. “He must really like you. That’s the first time he’s moved since he was brought in. I was afraid that the lack of movement meant that something was really wrong inside of him.”
Caitlin bends low over the animal’s head, her tears falling onto its battered skin as she comforts him. A large, pale pink tongue slips out of his mouth and licks her hand.
The sight gives me courage to put words to the thoughts that have been dancing around my head since the dog was brought to the shelter.
“Can we keep him?” I say, refusing to look at Caitlin after asking the question, fearing that she’ll tell me no. That he’s too big, or that he will take too much care, that given the weird nature of our upcoming marriage, it isn’t fair to bring a dog home. “Like, adopt him. Giving Sasha a little brother.”
I look down at the dog. Even more than half starved and covered in road rash and gashes, it is easy to see that this dog is a mixture of several large breed dogs. I see some bull mastiff, great Dane, and Bernese mountain dog in its frame and the shape of its head.
“More like a big brother,” I tell Caitlin.
Caitlin purses her lips and strokes the dog’s floppy ear, not noticing how the gesture leaves fresh blood stains on her fingertips. She bites her lower lip. I can all but see the wheels turning in her head as she mulls over the pros and cons of the various options before her.
“Please,” I urge. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now. We don’t even know if he’ll make it through the night, and even if he does, it’ll be weeks before he’s healed up enough to live anywhere else. I’d just, I guess I’d appreciate it if you’d consider it. “
I can’t tell if Caitlin even heard me. She’s staring down at the dog, who has finally opened up its eyes. Her own are round as saucers.
“Jeremy.” Her voice is so low I almost don’t hear it. “Have you seen this?”
“What?” I lean closer, more than a little afraid that she’s found some new wound that needs to be cleaned and dealt with.
“His eyes,” she whispers. “Have you looked at his eyes? They’re the same as yours.”
Startled, I look at the dog’s eyes and understanding dawns. Like me, the animal has heterochromatica, but instead of having one blue eye and one that’s blue and gold like I do, its eyes are a warm chocolate brown and pale blue.
“So it does.” Heterochromatica isn’t very common. Even though I know there are other people out there who have it, I’ve never encountered anyone but myself, and now this dog, with the condition.
“We’re keeping him,” Caitlin says. Conviction strengthens her tone, even though she speaks mildly. “Clearly it’s meant to be.”
“Thank you.” Warmth bubbles up in my chest as I loop an arm around her shoulders and tug her in close to my side. I brush a light kiss to the top of her head and wonder how I ever managed to get so lucky and find a woman as remarkable, understanding, and compassionate as Caitlin.
78
Jeremy
"Kahn, really?" I guide the car into the reserved spot in front of Caitlin's shop. The numbers 1:52 glow from the dashboard, indicating that we're both several hours past our bedtime. "I don't remember my Star Trek history well, but I could swear he's one of the bad guys."
"He was one of Kirk's biggest foes," Caitlin says, her voice thick with sleep. "Caused all sorts of problems for the crew of the Enterprise. Still wish he would have tangled with Picard's crew, maybe joined forces with Q, or something like that."
A dim memory of watching a ridiculously cheesy movie on the Sci-fi ch
annel pushes to the front of my brain. "Wait a minute. Wasn't he the guy that was responsible for killing Spock?"
I've never been much of a Trekkie, but even I know that Spock was a much-loved character and that killing him off was the height of evil.
"Mmm," Caitlin confirms. "That's him."
"And you want to name our sweet dog after someone evil?"
Caitlin rolls her head around so she can see me. The soft glow of the dashboard lights draws attention to the dark circles under her eyes.
"I've always thought he got a bad rap. He started out as a brave character who undertook a risky mission that cost him everything, yet he not only managed to survive, but thrive. Plus, he was a magnificent specimen, both physically and mentally.”
Shaking my head, I shut off the car. "I had no idea you were such a sci-fi geek. How'm I only just finding this out?"
I let myself out of the car before she has a chance to exit and trot around the front of it to open the door for her. The fact that she's still sitting inside, waiting for me, tells me just how exhausted she really is. Usually she's already out and halfway to the door before I get this far.
I tried sending her home several hours ago, when Dr. DeWitt made it plain that setting the dog's leg was going to take a while, but Caitlin refused to go. She stayed there the whole time, gently stroking the dog's ears while I worked as an impromptu vet’s assistant.
Seeing how tired she looks now, I wish I'd been more insistent. Between spending her days working in the floral shop, her nights with me, and trying to plan a wedding in all the moments in between, she's been burning the candle at both ends. Tonight, it looks like the practice has finally caught up with her.
"We've been so busy doing other things," Caitlin says, continuing the conversation as I guide her out of the car. "Movie nights haven't been on the schedule.”
"It's a date." I wrap one arm around her shoulders and bend to slide another beneath her knees, lifting her up so she's cradled against my chest. "But for now, let's focus on getting you into bed. You're ready to drop right here on the sidewalk.”
She drapes an arm around my shoulders and buries her face in my neck. "I am tired," she whispers against my skin.
Sasha, who has decided that she prefers staying in Caitlin's apartment as opposed to mine, greets us at the door. She winds her long, lithe body around my legs as I deposit Caitlin on the couch. I'm a little surprised to see her eyes are still open. I expected her to fall asleep in my arms as I maneuvered both of us up the stairs.
Humming a meaningless tune, I move toward her feet and remove the canvas deck shoes she loves so much. I take a moment to massage her calves, my fingers manually manipulating the tension out of the muscles.
Caitlin groans her delight and arches her back as she presses her legs more firmly into my hands. "Whatever you do, don't stop."
Her purse slides off her lap and crashes to the ground, the contents spilling out across the floor. Sasha darts forward to chase an errant pen as it rolls under a table.
I glance at the mess without really seeing it, only to do a double take and gape at the small box sitting in the middle of the pile.
"Caitlin, sweetie, what's this?" I pick up the box and read the label, barely daring to believe the words printed on it.
She uses her elbows to push herself upright and looks at my hand. "That's why I went to the shelter. I've been feeling kind of run down and crappy all day, and then I realized that my period should have started a few days ago. So I rushed to the pharmacy and bought that test. I was going to do it by myself, but I got nervous and needed your moral support. Then I saw Kahn and kind of forgot about it until right now." She bites her lower lip and stares at me. "Are you mad?"
"Mad?" For the first time, I realize that there's a possibility that soon, less than a year, I could be a father. Until this very second, the idea has been abstract, something I couldn't take as a real possibility, but now, it suddenly feels very real. And very scary. "Why would I be mad?"
"Because I didn't tell you right away." Caitlin places a hand on my shoulder. "I know how important having a baby is to Caldwell Industries."
I'm still having a difficult time processing everything. The only thing I know for sure is that I really want to know if my, no our, baby is growing inside of Caitlin.
"You look at it." Caitlin's nails bite into my hand and she squeezes her eyes shut. "I'm afraid to."
Heart pounding a wild rhythm, I pick up the wand and stare at the little space that tells us what the results are.
"Well?" Caitlin prompts. "Am I knocked up?"
"Not tonight."
Both of her eyes fly open and her expression sags with disappointment. "Oh. I was so sure."
She releases my hand and cups her palm against my cheek. "Jeremy, I'm so sorry. I know how badly you want this baby. How much you want to save your company from your brother. I'm sorry I failed you."
Her words rasp against my nerves. There's no way I'm letting her put this situation on herself.
"It takes two of us to make a baby, and it also takes time and the right set of circumstances, which clearly haven't happened yet."
"Not for lack of trying," Caitlin points out.
"True." I wrap my hands around her waist and still-flat tummy, the one that's going to remain flat for a little while longer, and pull her onto my lap. "And I'm looking forward to trying even harder."
Caitlin laughs and bows her head, stealing a quick kiss. "Given how intense my love life has become since meeting you, I don't think I'll survive if you try any harder."
"There's only one way to find out." I lift one hand and palm her left breast. Her muscles soften in anticipation and her lashes lower while her lips part. She doesn't look tired now. I lean closer, nuzzling the tiny patch of skin behind her ear that always drives her crazy.
She moans my name, the sound causing my cock to harden against her bottom.
"So, what do you say, baby? Want to see what fun things we can come up with for tonight?"
Caitlin sighs and leans against my chest. She kisses me, her lips soft and yielding against mine. “I think it sounds like the best idea you’ve had since you suggested we adopt that poor mangled dog.”
“Glad you approve,” I chuckle against her mouth as I match her sweet kiss with one of my own. She makes a soft mewling noise that never fails to heat my blood, and twines her fingers through my dark hair.
I shift our positions, until she’s lying on her belly on the couch. I kneel above her. With gentle, practiced hands, I ease her out of her clothing, taking my time, unwrapping her body slowly, like the highly treasured, much-anticipated present it is.
“You just lie right there, baby,” I murmur and stretch myself out across her back. “Let me take care of you, okay?”
Her response is a deep, sexy moan that has my cock jumping.
Determined to make this as good for her as possible, I ignore the demands my own body is making, and focus entirely on her.
My hands stroke and soothe, dancing back and forth over the parts that make her squirm and shout, and my mouth nips and licks. No part of her remains unexplored.
Nothing has ever felt as right, as natural as having her in my arms, and it doesn’t seem to matter how long we’ve been together, how many times we make love. Each time is just as exciting as the last. Somehow, she’s worked her way into my system, so that now I need her in my life just as badly as I need oxygen.
Knowing I’ve pushed her to the edge of her tolerance, and needing to feel her sweet heat surrounding me, I grasp her hips, pulling her up and onto her knees while I enter her from behind.
The position makes her tight, almost as tight as she was on our first night together. The incredible sensation causes my eyes to cross and I nearly forget to breathe.
I give her a moment to adjust to my length before I start to slowly rock my hips, thrusting in and out of her with long, slow strokes that have both of us seeing stars.
My hands slide lower until I fin
d her engorged clit. I roll it between my fingers, tickling and teasing the little bundle of nerves until she screams my name and bucks back against me, the force of her climax triggering my own.
I rain kisses and nips on the back of her shoulders, marking her as my own, the way a stallion marks a mare, as I empty myself into her and we both collapse in a tangle of sweaty limbs on the couch.
Later, when we’re curled up on her bed together and Caitlin’s head is resting on my shoulder, I shift my hand, covering the place where, one day, our child will grow and develop. The words Caitlin said to me earlier rattle around in my brain, the sound of them too loud to ignore.
“I know how important having a baby is to Caldwell Industries."
Granted, when we first got together, first discussed getting married and having a baby, the only thing I was thinking about was gaining control of the business and protecting my employees, but somewhere along the line, something shifted. I’ve grown to care deeply for Caitlin, and when she told me she might be pregnant, a bolt of pure joy rocketed through me, bringing with it a stunning revelation.
Caitlin is wrong. I do want a baby, and if doing so helps Caldwell Industries, then great, but the truth is that now I no longer want a baby for business purposes. Now I want a baby because I can’t wait to hold something that Caitlin and I created.
79
Caitlin
“You want to go again?” His gaze captures mine, holding it in thrall as one of his own hands finds and settles on the soft slope of my left breast, feeling like a brand, the heat awakening nerve endings I didn’t even know existed before this very moment. My nipple tightens in silent response to the nearness of his hand, begging him to touch it. I bite my lip, trapping my rising moan in my throat.
I don’t know how to respond. I’m not used to this. Most girls have years to grow into their sexuality. Mine has almost been forced upon me – even if it was in the most delicious way. I’ve barely come to terms with what this all means. So how do I respond?