Puppy Love for the Veterinarian

by Amy Woods

  She was a much stronger woman now, and would not fall victim to a handsome face, liquid-gold voice and a knock-your-pants-off body.

  “We’re going to do what we came to do—get something to eat.”

  His comment brought her back to the present situation. She was starving, yes, but she wasn’t about to steal food from a sweet old couple who’d pinched her cheeks as a child. Perhaps they could leave a note and pay later.

  “We can’t just take food when no one’s here.”

  “Of course we can. These are dire circumstances, June, on the off chance you haven’t noticed.”

  Something about the way he said her name turned her insides into custard.

  “I’ve known the Bauers since my dad opened the clinic, and they won’t mind one bit.”

  She was skeptical and it must have shown in her expression.

  “Look, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll leave a note and some cash and drop by to explain when the storm is over. No worries. Besides, I’m pretty sure Mrs. Bauer would hate to see us leave here empty-handed. She’s always bringing the clinic staff cookies and trying to fatten us up. If anything, she’ll be happy we helped ourselves.”

  He had a point there. The Bauers were childless and seemed to take immense joy in spoiling other peoples’ kids with their stellar baked goods. The bakery was their passion and the older couple loved nothing more than watching people savor their homemade desserts.

  She wasn’t exactly keen on the idea, but desperate times and all...

  “If you’re sure.”

  Ethan pulled a large bill out of his wallet and left it on the counter, promising to find a pen and paper before they left.

  “I’m sure.”

  She raised her hands in surrender. “I suppose we don’t really have a choice, now do we?”

  “That’s my girl.”

  The words hit her harder than the wind outside. Why did she like them so much? And why, when she’d only been around him for a few hours, did this guy have the power to unravel her with a couple of words?

  Yep, she definitely needed to watch out.

  As if to remind her that biology had a say in things, June’s stomach let out a lion-worthy roar, making Ethan laugh and lightening the mood.

  She covered her mouth to stifle a grin. “Sorry about that.”

  “Nonsense. Let’s just get something in there already.”

  “Deal.”

  With that, they made their way behind the glass cases, which had been emptied for the night, and into the kitchen. June didn’t see any pastries, but the scent of fresh dough tickled her nose and made her even hungrier, if such a thing was possible at that point. And yet there was absolutely no food in sight. Which made perfect sense—under normal circumstances, the Bauers would be there early in the morning to make everything from scratch for the day. Unfortunately, there were two ravenous people in need of immediate sustenance, and baked goods weren’t exactly known for being made quickly.

  Ethan appeared as disappointed as she felt.

  “Okay, so I don’t see anything to eat, and now’s probably as good a time as any to admit that I know less than nothing about baking.”

  June chuckled, scanning the shelves stocked with flour, sugar and other products. She had an idea that just might work if she could drum up the right stuff. “You’re in luck. I do happen to know a thing or two.”

  “Oh, really?” Ethan asked, his dark brows lifting in hope.

  “Really.” She rubbed her hands together. “I just need the proper ingredients, so let’s see what we can find.”

  “By all means, then. Put me to work.”

  “I’d really rather not use the Bauers’ electricity by turning on the industrial-size ovens, and I’m anxious to get back to the clinic and see how the puppies are doing, but I think I know just the thing to make back at the clinic.” Now it was her turn to ask. “Do you trust me?”

  He grinned, giving her a full view of his perfect white teeth between chestnut-colored lips that looked good enough to bite.

  “I do.”

  “Okay, then. If you can grab a sack of sugar and one of flour from those shelves—” she pointed behind him “—I’ll see if I can’t manage to scare up some cocoa powder.”

  He clapped his hands together and headed toward the rows of neatly organized baking supplies. “I don’t know what you’re up to, Miss Leavy, but if it includes cocoa, I’m in.”

  There were lots of things she’d like to do with him that included various forms of chocolate, but she supposed she’d have to settle with baking. Especially since, she reminded herself, no matter how sexy he was and no matter how many unwanted but delicious images he brought to mind every time he graced her with that smile, she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Her stay in Singlesville was meant to be permanent.

  Having given him an assignment, she made her way to the walk-in refrigerator and, shivering at the climate that matched the one she’d just escaped from, grabbed a carton of eggs.

  She opened the door and ran smack into Ethan.

  The eggs were safe as she had instinctively pulled their carton against her chest to shield the contents from impact, but when he grasped her shoulders and stared into her eyes, she was very, very far from safe.

  “I’m so sorry, June. Are you all right?”

  His lips were too close to hers, but yes, technically she was okay. She looked away, fighting to slow the sudden surge in her heart rate.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, averting her eyes. “What were you doing here, anyway?”

  Perhaps he wasn’t immune to her, after all. She caught a tiny jump in the muscle of his jaw, and he was definitely breathing more heavily than the situation warranted. And his pulse was tap-tap-tapping against the velvety skin of his throat, almost in time with her own.

  “I was just... I came to check on you. I got the flour and sugar like you said, and, well, you were in there for longer than I liked.”

  Oh, God, she needed to get away from him. Now.

  She pulled back and he let his hands drop.

  “Great. I just need to get some vegetable oil and we’ll be set.”

  If she just kept busy, the awkward moment would pass and they could both forget about it.

  Ethan cleared his throat but didn’t have the decency to stop looking at her. If she hadn’t been mistaken, for a second there, it seemed like he might have been on the verge of kissing her.

  Far worse, she could not guarantee that she wouldn’t have stopped him.

  She watched as he moistened his lips, reassuring herself that this was reality and he could not, in fact, read her mind. He could see that, in spite of herself, she would have allowed him to press those lips against hers, just to see what it would be like to have that sensual-beyond-words mouth covering her own.

  But the moment was gone forever, and that was a good thing.

  It was.

  She pushed her shoulders back, remembering where she was and what she was doing there.

  “Right,” he said. “We’d better get back and check on the puppies.”

  Her head bobbed rapidly up and down.

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  * * *

  “You’re making what in a what now?” Ethan asked when they were back at the clinic.

  June rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  “Brownies. In a cup. Like I said.”

  “I’m not following. I have had brownies a time or two and I really do not see how you could successfully make such things in a coffee mug.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to wait and see, then, ye of little faith.”

  Having traipsed back through the weather carrying zippered bags of flour, sugar and cocoa, the little bit of oil she’d poured into a mason j
ar, along with the couple of eggs she’d stuffed in her pockets, they were both dying to eat.

  While she’d set out the ingredients on the limited counter space of the tiny break room, Ethan had checked on the pups, returning to say that he’d freshened their water, changed out their potty pad and given them a little more food to eat, and they were snuggled back up for additional, much-needed rest.

  The poor little ones were doubtless exhausted from the sheer effort of staying warm in below-freezing temperatures, not to mention having fended for themselves for who knew how long. She knew they would need homes soon, but she didn’t want to think yet about giving them away. There was no way she could keep a puppy—not with hours like hers at the pizza place—but their little faces made her heart ache.

  So much had been lost to her over the past several months that, even though she knew the tiny creatures did not belong to her, the idea of losing them might threaten to push her over some invisible edge of grief.

  “All right,” she said, winking at her companion and focusing on the task at hand, trying to block those little brown puppy eyes from her mind, “prepare to be awed and amazed.”

  Ethan smiled at her, looking ridiculously adorable with his elbows on the counter, chin in hands, watching her like an eager little boy.

  She pulled their tea mugs from earlier out of the dish drying rack and mixed ingredients into each one. As Ethan stared, intrigued, she then put the mugs into the microwave. Only a minute and a half later, out popped deliciousness.

  She presented him with a mug and stood back, ready to watch him take a bite. When he did, he closed his eyes and remained still long enough to worry her.

  “Oh. My. God,” he said, barely in time to take another mouthful. “This is amazing.”

  She shrugged and picked up her own serving. “It’s not that exciting, but it’s the best I can do with limited time and materials.”

  “You’re being too modest, June. I’m not kidding—this is possibly the best brownie I’ve ever tasted.”

  She covered her mouth and a laugh escaped as she swallowed a large bite of moist chocolate. “That’s just the starvation talking.”

  It was true. Microwave brownies were no secret—they had been trending all over the internet for a while—and she was absolutely not the first one to make them. But in a pinch, they’d have to do.

  Out of nowhere, something hit her in the gut, and this time, it wasn’t hunger.

  It was longing, deep and pure.

  She couldn’t recall the last time she’d baked anything. Not microwave brownies, not her favorite apple caramel pie or any of her secret cookie recipes that were famous among her friends.

  It had been...months.

  And she missed it. So, so much.

  She had a sudden, desperate urge to bake something for Ethan. Something far better than the stupid brownie he was digging into so hard and clearly enjoying, if the periodic moans he emitted between bites were anything to go on.

  While it was absolute bliss to see him loving something she’d made for him, it would be a thousand times more satisfying to see him dive into something really special, something that was truly an original creation of her own.

  Baking had been her passion, the one constant in her life. Despite working a full-time job, June’s mom had always made time for her when she’d had the chance, time they usually spent in the kitchen mixing up delightful things to eat.

  June disagreed with the common conception that baking was a science, not an art. On the contrary, she and her mom had thrown caution to the wind when it came to treats; they played with ingredients and measurements to their hearts’ content, never afraid to risk disaster for the possibility of unearthing new greatness.

  June released a soft sigh. Those were some of her very favorite memories.

  She made a mental note to give her mother a call as soon as she got home, and not another of the short Sunday night check-ins they usually shared, but a real, long, catch-up call. And as soon as she had a break from work, she would visit, and they would bake something fun, something new that neither had tried before.

  She could use a little adventure in her life, at least of the safe variety.

  Closing her eyes, she poked her spoon around in the last bits of gooey chocolate at the bottom of her mug, the best part in her opinion, and took her final bite of the impromptu dessert. When she slid the clean spoon out of her mouth, June found Ethan studying her, his expression a strangely pleasant blend of curiosity and...joy, as though he’d happened across an interesting painting.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked, resting his spoon in his own mug and setting it on the counter.

  The way he did that—put down the dish to focus all of his attention on her—was simultaneously intoxicating and unsettling. He gazed at her as though what she might say next was the most fascinating thing in the world, before he’d even heard it. She wasn’t entirely sure she liked being examined so intently; there was great potential to make a fool of herself in front of someone she was slowly coming to respect and even like.

  She decided to be honest, to be brave.

  “The truth?”

  He nodded affirmation.

  “I was just thinking about my mother.”

  Ethan’s features softened. “Ah, mothers. A complicated bunch, aren’t they?”

  It was alarming, how much she enjoyed the sound of his voice, that singular mix of accents she’d never heard all in one place before and couldn’t quite identify. His words were more carefully formed than the looser, more drawn-out cadence of the locals she’d grown up around; they were tighter but also smoother—not better, of course, just different. And his vocabulary, his way of putting sentences together, was more formal than any man she’d ever spoken to before.

  Ethan Singh was a rare, increasingly fascinating gem. He was cool and direct, almost hard, at first meeting, but like a fine baklava, she had the sense he would be infinitely more complex inside, lovelier. Hearing the way he’d talked with his parents on the phone—his tone warm and indulgent, the opposite of his annoyed words that didn’t fool anyone—she knew already that he cared deeply for his parents and he placed great value on family.

  As did she.

  It seemed as the evening progressed, she and the doctor had more and more in common.

  “It’s true,” she conceded. “They are complicated, but I can tell you adore yours.”

  His cheeks shaded to a slightly darker almond. “Guilty as charged,” he answered, raising up his palms.

  June giggled. “An admirable quality in a guy.”

  “I try.” He winked at her and took another bite, not at all shy about how much he relished the experience.

  You’re doing very well, she wanted to say, but didn’t.

  “Is she the one who taught you to bake?” he asked. “Your mother, I mean.”

  June moved to wash out her cup so as to have something to do with her hands. She was used to being in perpetual motion, on her feet all day at work, then crashing into her bed at night. It had been a while since she had been in one-on-one company with someone else for this length of time. To tell the truth, she was nervous she’d run out of things to say—not that she’d said much, as it were—and Dr. Singh, highly educated, was way out of her league.

  She rinsed the last bubbles of soap from her cup and set it to dry. “Yes. Or...at least at first.”

  “Ah. Did you then go to culinary or pastry school before you started at the pizza shop?”

  She knew the question wasn’t judgmental, but the subject of school was a sore spot for her; her features must have registered as much because Ethan looked suddenly worried.

  “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

  “No, not at all.” She stopped fidgeting and did her best to show him the same courtesy as he had h
er, by slowing down to really listen. She knew that must not be easy for a man as busy as he must be—the sole doctor in a clinic that served an entire small town full of furry clientele—so she could at least try to do the same.

  She raised and then lowered her eyebrows. “I wish I could have gone to pastry school.” She heard the dreaminess in her own words. “In Paris or someplace far off and amazing like that.”

  She didn’t know what else to say, so she simply stopped there. She’d wanted so many things, but the money had not been available, and though she’d worked her butt off to ace her high school classes while keeping up with part-time jobs, her grades just hadn’t cut it; they were good, but not exceptional. Not enough for scholarships. And her mom’s income had been on that fine line that partially determined the future of so many hopeful kids. According to the government, her mom’s finances were healthy enough to put a roof over their heads, to feed and clothe the both of them, and they were too high for her to qualify for aid. But, alas, not enough to help her pay for school. She’d tried combining community college with a full-time job for a few months, but the long days and nights of fighting desperately to keep juggling all those plates had gotten to her, and she’d felt like a failure.

  Her mom had wanted June’s life to be better than her own, and June wanted to make her proud. She’d let them both down.

  “So, why didn’t you? Go to school like you wanted, I mean?”

  “Lots of reasons.” The last thing she wanted was to talk openly about education and money with a man like Ethan Singh, who had likely excelled in school and who, she knew from small-town gossip, was blessed with wealthy parents.

  “June,” he prodded, his eyes as soft and warm as melted caramel. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but that is a pathetic excuse for an answer.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “Yes.” He laughed softly. “Indeed it is.”

  She almost asked what difference it made, but she didn’t want to know the answer to that question. The only logical solution was to change the subject.