by Cranford, B.
“Do you think he hates me? For hitting him?”
“I can assure you he doesn’t,” came the answer, not from the dog she’d been looking at, but from behind her.
Spinning, a flush of embarrassment—because that was what she needed, more embarrassment—she stuttered, “I–I–I am so–so–sorry.” She followed it up with a weak smile that felt like it might fall off her face at the slightest provocation.
Great first impression. Except it wasn’t her first impression, it was her second. And she really wasn’t selling herself well so far.
Wicked.
Walking all the way into the room after taking a deep breath, he looked at her with a professional face. A polite smile coupled with the slightest furrow of his brow. “You don’t have to apologize, you know.”
“I do. I mean, I hit you.” She resisted the urge to drop her head into her heads only because she was still holding the dog, and took one step before stopping.
No more pacing, Rose, she commanded, hoping like hell her nerves would stop racing soon.
His polite smile turned warm, all he said was, “Accident, right?”
“Right. Yes. Accident.”
“Then you don’t need to apologize. Although, it’s accepted, if that helps?”
Nodding fervently because, yes, it did help, she said a quiet, “Thank you.”
“Okay, now let’s see what you have here. I’m Liam, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake.
It was a friendly, professional move that she returned, surprised by the flicker of awareness that she felt when their palms came together.
“Rose,” she offered, her voice still quiet. Pulling back from the handshake and clearing her throat, she told him about how she’d found the dog. Then in a stronger voice, she added, “He’s got a scratch on his belly that looks like maybe it’s infected?” Her teeth caught her lips and that caught his attention for a brief moment, before he pointed at the exam table.
“Pop him down here for me, and I’ll start with the scratch, then see what else we can find out, okay?”
She didn’t say anything, concerned with being as gentle as possible with the animal as she set him on the stainless steel table. “It’s okay, little friend. You’re okay.” He looked up at her with eyes that were watery but bright before he dipped his head to give her hand the tee-tiniest nip.
He might as well have wrapped himself right around her heart with that move.
Liam, who stood opposite her, on the other side of the table, met her eyes briefly, and she felt that same tremor of awareness when he gave her a small smile. “He likes you already.”
Feeling her cheeks redden—though why, she didn’t know—she nodded. “I like him already, too.” She used her hold on the dog to give his ear a tickle, loving the downy softness of it and how it flopped back in place.
“Hey there, little guy. Did you get lost?” Liam turned his attention to the dog, and clearly didn’t care that talking to it made him look the fool. Rose knew that dogs—all animals, actually—responded better when they were comfortable, and by talking to the pup, by showing kindness in his words, his tone of voice, and his actions, he was already working to gain the trust of this one.
She was touched deeply by the gesture, by the obvious way he cared.
Get it together, she scolded herself, focusing her attention on the ball of brown and white fur that was shaking under her palm. “Shh, buddy. You’re going to be fine,” she promised, knowing in her gut that that was true.
“So, you found a good friend to bring you here, huh?” he asked, easing the puppy over with her help.
“Oh, no. I took a Lyft since my cousin was at wor—” She stopped talking abruptly when she realized that he’d been talking to the dog, and closed her eyes briefly before a choked-off laugh escaped. “Sorry.”
His laugh was rich and enveloped her right away, but it didn’t feel like he was laughing at her. No, it felt more like they shared the joke.
“No problem. That’s what I get for talking to him like he can answer me.” His shrug was self-deprecating, and she kind of adored that he’d taken a share of the blame—although the mistake had been hers.
“I do it, too,” she reassured him. “Talk to animals.”
“So, you’re not just Babe Ruth, you’re Doctor Dolittle, too? Impressive.” He motioned with his hands for her to guide the puppy over onto its back before she could reply. “Let’s see that belly, buddy.”
Watching with rapt attention as he carefully checked the scratch, she couldn’t help but notice that the dog, who seemed to settle more and more with each passing minute, stopped shaking within minutes and started looking at the vet with adoring eyes.
He’s like a dog whisperer. Why is that so attractive?
* * *
“He’s going to be fine. If you’re going to keep him, we’ll need to set up a schedule to ensure he gets all the necessary vaccinations. He’s too young to have been microchipped, but if you want to leave your contact details with me, we can let you know if someone comes in asking after him. If you’re not going to keep him, and we don’t find his owner . . .” He smiled, thinking that it’d been too long since he’d had a dog of his own wandering around. Maybe he could take this little guy in—even if it might mean more work when he was still trying to establish Pupp’s. It wasn’t part of his plan, but for that sweet face? He could adapt. “He can always become the clinic mascot.” Taking a moment to wash his hands at the sink, he turned back around before she’d had a chance to reply.
“Rose?” he asked, watching in wonder as she mouthed a series of words to herself. “Are you okay?”
She looked up at him at that moment and he felt it the instant their gazes connected. It was oddly intense, and sent a shiver down his spine. The same one he’d felt when they’d shaken hands.
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “You don’t have to be sorry. We have longer hours for exactly this reason. I’m just glad I could help.” He smiled to make sure she knew he was genuine. Of course, he was happier because he was helping her, but she didn’t need to know that.
Yet.
“Not for coming here. I mean, yes, that. That, too. But for hitting you that day.”
“I already said you don’t need to apologize.” He stepped closer as she gathered the dog up from the table. “Remember?”
“I know, but . . .”
“But?” he asked, holding his breath when she too moved a step closer, bringing her within touching distance.
“I was mortified. Afterward, you know?” She bit her lip, and shuffled a little closer. “I just panicked and I felt so damn bad that I hadn’t stayed to make sure you were okay.”
“I can’t say it didn’t hurt, because it did.” He shrugged off-handedly, hoping she could see that he meant it. “But I never once thought you’d done it on purpose. And it gave me a good excuse to make my sister take care of me.”
She giggled, a low, breathy sound that washed over him and he found himself taking another minute step closer. “Were you okay? Are you okay, I guess I should ask?”
Nodding, he brought his hand to the spot she’d nailed him and lifted his hair a little. “Look, no bruise.”
She closed the remaining distance between them, as if she wanted to get a closer look, and on instinct, he lowered his head to her.
Her fingers sifted into his hair, using the same gentleness he’d seen when she was caring for the puppy. “You don’t have a bump or anything.”
“Not anymore, no.”
“I’m glad. I admit, I checked the obits every day for the last week, wondering if I’d see you in there.”
The dog, who was still cradled in her arms and close enough to his face to give him a little lick, did exactly that, breaking the moment. It made him laugh, which in turn made Rose step back.
He felt the loss of her closeness immediately.
“I’m–I’m so sorry. That was not appropriate.” Her breath star
ted coming quicker, and Liam began to worry that she was about to bolt again.
He really didn’t want that to happen.
“I don’t mind. I liked it,” he confessed, taking a step to close the distance between them again. “Not getting hit on the head, but”—he gestured toward his hair—“but making you feel better about, well, you know.” He shrugged, trying to play it off like it wasn’t the feel of her fingers in his hair, the shimmering awareness that he’d felt around them, that he’d been referring to.
Her eyes widened, her breathing starting to slow again. Funny, he thought, since his seemed to be coming faster now.
“I really didn’t mean to run off. I . . .”
“Panicked?”
“Yeah. Badly.” She frowned and, seemingly without conscious thought, brought the puppy closer to her face. Seeking comfort. The little guy in her arms looked pretty happy, all things considered, and Liam didn’t honestly blame him.
He had a sudden flash of Rose bringing him in close, not to stroke his hair in search of a wound that had long since healed, but to bring their lips together in a soft, searching kiss.
“I knew it was an accident,” he said again. He’d tell her a hundred more times if it made her feel better. “I wasn’t mad then, and I’m not mad now.”
She didn’t know that he’d been standing too close that day, and he debated telling her. Would it put her mind at ease, once and for all, or freak her out to know that’d he been trying to get closer to her? To say hello. To see if the attraction that had sprung up when he’d first seen her had anything to it.
It could go either way, really.
* * *
Oh my God.
Rose knew she sounded like a broken record. But seriously? After he’d so carefully and calmly looked after the puppy, she’d more or less run her fingers through his hair.
His silky, soft dark hair.
She closed her eyes and blindly took another small step back. She was still close to him—too close to him—and it made trying to forget what had just happened hard.
“Are you okay?”
Of course, he would ask her that. Again.
“Yes, sorry, I’m fine. I was just . . .” She trailed off, determined not to think about the way his hair had felt under her fingers, or the fact that the smile he was now giving her made her knees a little weak. Coming up with a convenient excuse for whatever he must’ve seen in her face in that moment, she said, “I was just thinking about the cost of”—she circled a finger to illustrate that she meant his treatment of her little rescue—“all this.”
He shrugged, looking away and she was suddenly unsure whether she was going to like what he said next.
“Liam?” she asked, wondering if he was about to offer her free veterinary services in exchange for something she didn’t want to give.
Why her mind went there was a story that she didn’t like to tell or think of, but it almost certainly was the precipitating cause of her whatever-length-of-time-life crisis.
“Tanzi, who usually takes care of the office and all the billing is out getting herself some dinner. So, ahh, I don’t really know.” His eyes came back to her, then diverted to the little bundle in her arms, who had become so comfortable with her that he’d started to drift off.
She imagined being lost and scared was exhausting.
“You don’t know?” The question was asked with a laugh, because one, it was so far from what she’d been expecting based on experience, and two, what kind of business owner didn’t know the cost of their services?
“I shouldn’t have admitted that, should I?”
She giggled at his confession. “Maybe not, but I don’t know. It makes me feel a little better about the hitting you thing, and the stroking your hair thing.”
“Eh, I already said I didn’t mind,” he said, his eyes trained on hers in such a way that she didn’t doubt the truth behind his words. “And as for the hitting me thing—you have quite the arm. Did you grow up playing baseball or softball in Australia?”
She paused, squinting her eyes, knowing she hadn’t mentioned growing up in Australia. Of course, to some people it was obvious in her accent—but she’d encountered more than a few people that hadn’t known exactly where she was from.
And when she said more than a few, she meant, the majority.
“Are you British?”
“Where you from?”
“Let me guess . . . French?”
And those were just some of the examples she’d come across when meeting new people. To be fair, it wasn’t like Australia was a top topic in American schools.
She wanted to ask how he’d known, but she also didn’t want to insult his intelligence. Instead, she simply smiled and shook her head.
He accepted that answer, then pegged her with another question. “Whereabouts are you from? Exactly, I mean.”
“Melbourne. Victoria?” She didn’t know why she’d said it like it was a question, except she wasn’t sure how well he knew her home country.
He reached out to run a couple of fingers over the top of the dog’s head. I guess I should give him a name, she thought idly, turning her attention back to him when he added, “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“Australia in general, or Melbourne, specifically?” Most people who wanted to go saw Sydney as the ultimate Australian destination and though Rose could appreciate the beauty of Australia’s most famous city, she knew that her hometown was far superior.
And if that was a little biased, she didn’t care.
“Both, really. Isn’t Melbourne the most livable city in the world, or something?”
Rose nodded, a hint of pride coloring her smile. Damn right, we’re the most livable. “Well, tied with somewhere in Canada last time I checked, but yeah. Pretty much.”
His raised his eyebrows, and the look of appreciation made her appreciate him. He looked so handsome, the white coat draped on his shoulders, his eyes holding curiosity and, if she wasn’t mistaken, attraction. “So, how did you end up in North Carolina?”
She opened her mouth to respond when a female voice called out, “I’m back and I have more rice than any one woman should eat. Want some?”
Rose blinked, the moment she felt like they were beginning to share disappearing just like that.
The woman’s voice sounded young and pretty, and though Rose knew—she knew—that was a stupid thing to think, she couldn’t help but wonder about its owner.
It must be the office woman he’d mentioned. Tandy? No, Tanzi, that was it.
Sounds like a dog’s name, she thought snidely, immediately regretting it and offering up a silent apology. She wasn’t the kind of woman who thought ill of her gender. Or at least, she didn’t want to be. But something about Liam, though she knew literally nothing about him beyond the fact he was a competent and kind veterinarian with nice hair, made her . . . jealous?
Was she jealous?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
She didn’t like it and she couldn’t explain it, but at least she could admit it.
That was something.
“Are you still here? Liam?” The voice came closer, and the door to the exam room soon opened. Rose was prepared to feel another stab of jealousy when she saw this Tanzi.
And she did. Because the woman who walked in was tall—even taller than Rose, who at five foot eight was no slouch—and had a cascade of blonde curls that were pulled back into a half-ponytail.
Except there wasn’t any reason to hate her, and Rose knew that. She silently scolded herself, and stepped back from Liam a little more, hoping it would garner Tanzi’s attention.
It worked.
“Oh, hi! Sorry, I didn’t realize you were with someone. No car in the parking lot,” she explained, smiling a warm smile at Rose. “I’m Tanzi.”
“I’m Rose.”
“And who is this?” Tanzi came over and nudged Liam—who’d still been standing in front of her, gently rubbing the puppy’s head when Tanzi interrupted t
hem—and bent her head to get a better look. “You’re so cute, aren’t you?”
The still unnamed dog in her arms opened his sleepy eyes to look warily at the newcomer and then, clearly deciding she wasn’t a threat, immediately closed them.
“Is he yours?” Tanzi asked, looking up at Rose, that welcoming smile still on her face.
“No. Well, maybe? I don’t know.” Rose cleared her throat, hoping that it would also help her clear her mind. “I found him this afternoon and brought him in to be looked at. I guess I have to wait and see if he has a family looking for him.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Tanzi looked at her without judgment, which only made her feel worse about the fact she’d been mentally disliking this woman.
“I-I’m not sure. I’m only here for another couple of months, like, two and a half, so . . .” She trailed off, thinking about what would happen to the puppy if she didn’t keep him.
It made her heart ache, even though she’d only just come across the little animal.
She had no claim to him, but somehow, he’d made a claim on her. Just by being a sweet, scared, cute little guy.
Too bad she couldn’t justify her reaction to Liam—and therefore, her reaction to Tanzi—the same way.
Why’s it okay to love a dog after an hour but not a person? It was a ridiculous question, but also one she’d kind of like the answer to. Shaking her head to clear her mind, she said, “If he doesn’t have a family, then I’m really going to need to give him a name.”
A feeling of rightness washed over her, and she knew she’d made the right, if impulsive, decision.
Impulsive? No one would ever call her that usually, but there was just something about this dog that circumvented her typical flip-flopping. Maybe he’d chosen her. Maybe he’d made the decision, and she just had to go along with it.
When the time came for her to head back to Australia, she was just going to have to research quarantine laws. Damn, if only every decision was this easy.
“Well, you’re a lucky boy, aren’t you?” Tanzi leaned in to place a soft kiss on the downy fur of the dog’s head. “You’re either going to find your people or settle into a good new home.” She smiled up at Rose, and Rose silently apologized again for the momentary bitchiness she’d felt toward this woman.