by Jenny Hayut
It looks like Katy isn’t the only one who thinks the client is attractive. Beth’s cheeks are flushed and she gives me a sheepish grin and walks away quickly, not saying a word.
Great. It’s one thing to steer clear of hot guys at The Rox, not giving them the chance to look me up and down then walk right past me, like always. Here, there’s no avoiding them.
I know I’m not most men’s ideal woman—with my plain brown hair, pear-shaped body that’s seemingly immune to the gym, and my apparent inability to have fun. That’s why I make a point of staying away from men—so I don’t let the disappointment of it own me—and sticking to my animals instead.
I take a deep breath and slide my hands down both sides of my top in an attempt to free it of wrinkles and animal hair and cast-away fleas. I tighten my ponytail, press my hair back for any flyaways then lick my lips to give them a little moisture. I don’t know why I even bother, pointless really, but I do. I grab the chart from its tray, glancing down quickly to find the patient’s name so I can greet him with it. Kilo.
Cool name. Wonder what it means.
I open the door to find a very large, snow-white German Shepherd with the biggest blue eyes peering back at me. He’s absolutely gorgeous and though his size could be intimidating—maybe even a little scary—to some, to me, he looks quite huggable.
“Well hello, Kilo! What a beautiful big boy you are!” I turn to introduce myself to Kilo’s owner. “Hello, I’m—”
My voice is stolen as my throat knots. Electric blue eyes are staring back at me. I gasp—quietly, thank God. The gravity in the room disappears, and I struggle to stay on my feet. It’s Holt. Sitting. In one of my exam rooms. With a dog. I mean, really, what kind of sick twisted shit is this? God, I’d thought for sure he was passing through town because I hadn’t seen him since that night at The Rox two weeks ago.
I stare at him blankly.
The room is small, and it seems even smaller with him in it. He’s so close, I can smell him. That woodsy, outdoor smell that ignited my senses before has my head spinning. I can’t escape. I stand there, speechless. Unable to move. Mortified.
Wake up, Niki. Get your shit together.
In the light of the exam room, I can see him more clearly than I did the other night. Twenty-nine now, there are creases in his face that weren’t there before, and he looks tired. The past three years must not have been good to him. I take some satisfaction in that thought. My gaze lingers on the small scar below his left eye. That’s new. I want to run my tongue along it. Kiss it.
Damn it.
He’s always had that badass look about him and the scar intensifies it. Scarier. Sexier, if that’s even possible.
His chiseled arms are crossed over his worn t-shirt. It doesn’t take much imagination for me to feel those arms wrapped around me. My gaze trails to one of his tattoos, peeking out from the sleeve of his shirt. I flash back to lying next to him, my head resting on his chest, tracing its delicate lines with my fingertips, or when I was brave enough, my tongue.
His jeans are torn in spots, making me want to glide my hands in them to feel that body again, those strong legs, tight and toned. And with his biker boots, Holt is still proving he can make anything he wears look good. He isn’t about style. He’s about whatever the hell is clean. That hasn’t changed. One look at his hair—still as it was before, unkempt and needing a cut—has me remembering grabbing it with my fists while he thrust himself into me.
The knife is twisting further, deeper into my heart, but my body trembles, longs for him to touch me again.
Damn it, Niki. Get it together. Shit. Don’t let him see that you’re weak. You’re different now. Stronger.
I take small breaths, forcing the thoughts of us back into the darkness before I explode with either tears or fists. I grit my teeth as I look at him. He looks calm. Relaxed, even. Yeah, why would he be anything but? He doesn’t know who the hell I am. He’s sitting there, staring back at me, sprawled in the chair.
All I can think about is walking over and straddling him. I am straight up pathetic. How the hell do I still have these feelings, instead of hating him for what he did to me? Like the first time I laid eyes on him, he entices me, speaks to my body.
I can’t get through this. Being alone with him in this tiny room. Having to pretend I don’t know him. That I’ve never looked into his eyes while he gave me orgasm after orgasm. God.
I’m not sure how long I stand, staring, but eventually Holt clears his throat and speaks. The sound of his voice doesn’t help the slippery slope I’m on. “Hello.”
That one word, the way he said it, sounds more like he’s saying, I want to lay you down and fuck you right here.
My cheeks are hot, and the pulsing ache between my legs grows. What the hell is wrong with me?
Get it together, Niki. You can do this. Don’t let him see. Remember your plan.
Finally, I manage to speak. “Hello, I’m Dr. Niki Stringer, and I’ll be examining Kilo today.”
I manage not to choke on my words and escape his stare as I turn away from him and walk to Kilo, who’s sitting calmly on the exam table.
“Are there any concerns or problems that bring you in?” I brush my hand along Kilo’s thick, snowy coat. Oddly, there’s a silence. Did he not hear me? Shit. I have to turn around, to look at him. Shit.
I force myself to turn, making eye contact briefly as I shift my gaze to Kilo’s file, flipping through its blank pages. My question still unanswered, the silence is deafening. I raise my eyes to his, and I’m met by a confused look. His eyes are locked on me, his jaw tight. Does he not understand my question? What the hell?
I start to ask again when confusion is quickly replaced by a look of anger. He cuts me off and abruptly says, “He hasn’t been eating.”
I quickly turn away to face Kilo again. “Good boy. Let me see those pretty teeth.”
I exam him and discover he’s as huggable as I thought.
The chair squeaks as Holt shifts in it as if he’s anxious or ready to go. I resist the urge to turn around and say, Get the hell out then already. It’s not like you’re not used to just getting up and disappearing.
I finish Kilo’s exam and take the samples I need from him. I give him a reassuring hug and, with my back still to Holt, ask, “Is he up to date on his shots?”
“Not sure. I found him as a stray about a year ago and ain’t had the time to take him to the vet until today.” His voice is taut.
Somewhere deep, my heart melts at the thought of Holt rescuing this poor beautiful creature. I carry on, hiding my pleasure at his kindness toward an animal. “Are you okay with us giving him the necessary vaccinations?”
“Yeah, do what you gotta do.” He almost sounds angry.
I give Kilo a hug and leave the room without speaking or looking back at Holt. As I shut the door behind me, I brace myself against the wall. The deep sigh comes out, almost on its own, releasing all the anxiety I’ve been holding in for the past fifteen minutes of hell. How was I able to do that? Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought.
But he’s not going to get it. No way in hell I’m giving him the satisfaction of knowing that he actually meant something to me, that he affected me. That I missed him when he left. That I cried. A lot. That men have been in my life since him, but not one came close to giving me what he did. Not even close. He’s not getting that. Doesn’t deserve it.
After collecting Kilo’s results, I stand outside the door. I take a deep breath and walk back into the room where the man who made my heart stop then later took it and smashed it all to hell is sitting.
You can do this, Niki. Almost over.
I quickly cut across the room to the counter, my back to Holt, and busy myself spreading and straightening the papers in my hands out along the countertop.
Almost over. Almost.
“Kilo’s test results came back positive for heartworms. I’ve prescribed medication for it, but he will need a follow up in one month.”
I take a deep breath, screaming at my brain to relax, let the words flow without choking. I turn toward him and look directly into his face, still as tight as it was before I left the room. “Do you have any questions?”
His voice is still flat. “No, we’re good.”
What the hell is up with that? Is he angry that I’m not being fast enough or something? Doesn’t like the hospital? I mean, what kind of shit is this?
Still barely able to keep my cool, concealing the screaming going on inside my head, I continue. “Okay then. Well, if you’ll go back up front to reception, Katy will set you up with your next appointment and get that medication to you.” I shut the file folder and turn away from him. “Thanks for bringing Kilo in. We look forward to seeing him again.” I walk over to Kilo and give him a squeeze. “Be a good boy.”
I stiffen as Holt approaches, clasping Kilo’s leash to his collar. He doesn’t say a word as Kilo bolts off the table and the two head for the door.
But then he stops as they make it to the doorway. He stands there for a moment, not moving.
My breathing is erratic. Cold prickly fingers tease my spine, baiting me to turn around and look. I protest. Stand my ground.
“Nicolette suits you better.”
All the blood in my body is sucked out, and I’m suddenly numb. I jerk my head around to look at him, but he’s gone.
Oh. My. God. He remembers me.
Chapter 4
To everyone else, even Dad or Aunt Helen, I’m Niki. Only Holt called me Nicolette. He said it fit my personality. It was an elegant name, just like me. I laughed—with my wild hair that has a mind of its own and my avoidance of the projectile weapons better known as heels, I’m anything but elegant—but I secretly loved it. It was the way it sounded when he said it, the way it flowed off his lips. It made me feel like something precious. After hearing it again, after going so long with its absence, still gave me that same feeling. Of being on a pedestal. No matter how much I deny it. My undoing.
It’s near the end of my shift, and I’m trying to focus on finishing up the charts for the day. I need Cass. She lived through the destruction that was Holt before, and I know she can bring me back down, calm me, and beat the hell out of him (or at least put up a good fight) if I give the word. Now that I know he remembers me, it changes things. A lot. Why didn’t he approach me that night at The Rox? Try to talk to me, explain to me, something. Anything. Instead, he was all over the woman he went to after getting bored with me. Instead—
“Dr. Stringer, can I ask you a question?”
I was so caught up in my anger, I didn’t hear Beth coming and jump at the sound of her voice. Standing beside me, she’s sifting through the files, helping me clean up. She reminds me a lot of myself when I first started as a technician at Hobbs. Young, ambitious, and ready to serve.
“I was wondering if you knew Mr. Maddox. You know, the new client we picked up today? The one with the white German Shepherd?”
I look at her, hesitating. Where the hell this is going? “Why do you ask?”
“Well, while I was starting his paperwork and getting Kilo settled, he asked me if you were the doctor he was scheduled to see, and if you weren’t, he wanted you.”
What the hell? So he knew it would be me walking through that door? I was still in vet school the last time he saw me. Either he’d asked around or taken a chance I would be here. Damn him. And he sat there while I pretended not to know him. Why? Why would he do that?
I lie to Beth. The fewer people who know the history between Holt and me, the better. It’s bad enough that most everyone at The Rox will probably remember him, since that’s where he spent a lot of his time. With me.
“Someone in town must’ve dropped my name to him or something.” I walk away.
****
I’m on my third beer of the night, listening to a new indie band I’d never heard of, enjoying their acoustic set. I called Cass on my way home from work and told her about Holt showing up at the hospital, and the discovery that he did remember me. I needed a distraction, so we decided to hit The Rox for a few hours. Clay and Ang are with us, so I can’t be as open as I want to be about Holt being at the clinic.
I still hadn’t confided in either of them about Holt. Clay knows, however, that all that is Holt Maddox is not welcome in our circle, and at this point, I’m pretty certain that, given the chance, he won’t hesitate to make sure he knows it. That’s how Clay rolls. He’s a little badass in his own right, and he always looks out for us.
I think Clay and Ang can tell I’m in a slumpy mood, assuming, probably, that I had a bad day at work. They, along with Cass, are trying to cheer me up, being the attentive friends that I can count on. There’s no chance though. The damage has been done. Pathetic.
“This band is pretty good,” Cass says, taking me out of my thoughts.
Tonight’s not nearly as crowded as The Rox is on weekends. Thursday is the one night of the week they open the stage for new talent, like the band we’re listening to. Anybody with a voice or an instrument can take the stage.
I don’t normally go out on weeknights, because I can’t hang like Cass, Ang, and Clay can. Tonight is an exception, but I still keep glancing at my watch. “Cass, it’s almost ten. I’m gonna get us another round then head home.”
“Okay, hun.” She’s come back to the table from dancing with yet another heartbreaker.
After waiting at the crowded bar, I scoop up the bottles as the bartender slides them my way and turn away to head back to our table.
“Hey,” someone says in my ear.
I look beside me and see Holt standing there. Shit. Where the hell did he come from? He wasn’t there a second ago.
“Can I help you with those?” He points to the beer bottles in my arms.
I glare at him for a moment, a wave of heat mixed with anger and lust blowing through me. “No thanks.” I grit my teeth and push past him.
I can’t do the pretend game right now. Holt in my face like this out of nowhere. What a stupid idea. No way in hell can I hide that I know who he is, or how I feel, or what I want to do to him. Not again. Not seeing him looking as hot as he always did.
I walk away, trying to maintain my composure, while I’m exploding on the inside. What the hell is he doing? Damn it. When I reach our table, my friends are staring at something behind me, looking as if they’ve seen a ghost. Holt. He followed me. I don’t turn around, setting the beers on the table instead.
As I start to sit down, Holt says, “Can I talk to you, Nicolette?”
Shit...there it is again. My name. From his lips. A shiver makes its way down my back.
Cass whispers something to Clay, which makes him jump up from his stool and come to stand beside me. He squeezes my hand. “She doesn’t have anything to say to you and doesn’t need to hear anything you have to say to her. Am I right, Niki?”
My cheeks burn at being put on the spot, and I’ve lost my words again. I manage to slowly nod in agreement. So much for pretending not to know who he is.
“You see? So keep it moving, bud,” Clay shouts at him, making people turn and look in our direction.
Holt glares at him, his jaw tight. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, if you’re her man or not, but I intend to take that place, so I am not, nor will I ever be, your fucking bud.”
Oh my God. Did he really just say that? Oh my God. I can’t breathe. I must look like an idiot, standing there, staring, with my jaw dropped. Yet again.
Clay finally breaks the silence. “Good luck with that,” he says scornfully as he puts his arm around my waist.
I tilt my head to look at him, and he winks, obviously not intending to correct Holt about us being a couple. Smart. Plus, I like Holt thinking Clay’s my man. No way in hell do I want him to know what my life has really been like since he left.
Holt focuses his attention back on me again, and I lock eyes with him, unable to look away. Those eyes. God. “A moment, Nicolette?”
Tha
nkfully, my liquid courage seems to have kicked in. “I have nothing to say to you, Holt.” I slam my hand down on the table, causing the bottles to rattle. “I don’t know how you can just show up after all this time and think I would want to listen to you. It’s been three fucking years, Holt. I got nothing. No phone call, no letter, not one fucking thing.”
I don’t normally have such a foul mouth, but talking to Holt, being so caught up in anger and the reminder of what his leaving did to me, the words are coming out.
“I don’t know how long you’re staying, but I hope it’s not long.” It hurts to hear myself say those words. They’re so far from the truth—but I suck in my tears and hope he doesn’t see. “If you plan on bringing Kilo back to the clinic, I’ll recommend you to one of my colleagues. I’m certain they’ll meet your needs satisfactorily.” I let out a deep sigh, hoping he didn’t hear the frustration hidden within it. “So no, Holt, I don’t have a moment.” I’m almost breathless, my whole body shaking from confronting him.
He stands silent, and there’s anger mixed with that all-too-familiar look of lust in his eyes. He doesn’t speak, and I begin to think he won’t, that the encounter is finally over.
“No other doctor will meet my needs satisfactorily, Nicolette.”
My breath hitches at those words, at their double meaning. Does he notice?
“I intend on staying however long I need to, and, as far as Kilo goes, he likes his new doctor, so I have no intention of changing.” Before I can respond, he inches closer to me, closing in on me.
Clay tightens his hold and instinctively tries to pull me away.
Cass, still sitting, puts a hand on Clay’s forearm. We both look down at her. She gives Clay a strange look, her face relaxed, as if she’s trying to calm Clay down.
I turn my attention back to Holt, not understanding Cass’s reaction.
He leans into my ear, and his hot breath tickles my skin, almost making my body abandon its senses. He whispers to me. “We’ll talk when you’re ready, Nicolette, and you are going to hear what I have to say to you. I’ll wait.”