Shelter Me (13 page)

“Lacey, your poodle’s already been picked up by the foster mama and you . . . look like you need a nap, lady.”

And didn’t that bring her back to reality? She shook her head. “Charming. Your bedside manner may work on the canines, but I’m seriously underwhelmed.”

“Truthful. And concerned. Who’s gonna keep me busy here if you collapse?”

“Like you need my deeply discounted business? Really.” She tucked a straggly hair back up into the loose scrunchie, oddly self-conscious after seeing Maisie prance around in her pristine scrubs. “Speaking of my discounted customers . . .”

She needed to focus on the dogs now that she’d started this weird train of thought about the doc. It was not fair that after a day of work he looked like a young Sam Shepard with his craggy-faced appeal. In the winter, he wore a long black duster and an ebony felt cowboy hat. Although the coat was missing today due to the heat, he rested his hat on top of the medicine cabinet. And suddenly she realized she was drooling over him like . . . like a . . . Maisie. What the hell had gotten into her?

Maybe it was her raw emotions. Or seeing her daughter and Mike together with all that young chemistry crackling, reminding her of everything she’d lost. Her mind and body were in such a time warp. Her grief over losing her husband was only four months old. But he’d been gone for a year. Physically, she’d been alone for a year.

And even knowing all of that, she couldn’t stop her eyes from lingering on the vet. He was too young for her. So why was she feeling cranky?

Perhaps because a couple of times she’d gotten the impression Dr. Vega was attracted to her—heaven only knew why since she usually looked like death warmed over and dragged through the mud when she came here. She wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and she knew his interest was more of just the light flirting variety. Nothing that would survive the harsh lights on her naked body.

And since when had she gotten insecure about her body? Maybe more just used to knowing that when her husband saw her naked, she knew he envisioned the eighteen-year-old her. Or at least remembered.

She swallowed down those memories fast and focused on the present.

Dr. Vega knelt beside the dog bed, stroking the groggy dog before checking the incision. “Be good now, Trooper boy. You’re a lucky dog. And famous, too.”

“At least he’s too loopy to slip away now.” All the same, she clipped a leash on Trooper just in case he decided to make a mad dash for freedom again. At least now when the dog ran to Mike Kowalski, he would be running back to her house.

She felt guilty as hell over taking him up on the offer. Sierra had lost her loft. Mike had lost his vacation. She wasn’t even sure what it meant for Sierra and Mike as a couple. Yet somehow she found herself falling in line with the idea. Mike would clear the to-fix list and have a place to stay for his month’s leave. Things would be in good repair before the council meeting. The timing was perfect, and she had too many people and animals counting on her to fail. This was her only solution, a real godsend, actually.

She would make it up to her daughter somehow.

Dr. Vega glanced over at her. “Trooper’s run away?”

“A couple of times, actually. He’s a bit of an escape artist. I’m surprised Sierra didn’t mention that this morning when she dropped him off. It seems surreal that he’s finally here.”

“You told me your husband always intended to bring him home.”

“I wish he could have kept all his promises.” She winced, tugging the long strap on her overfilled canvas bag. “I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just tired.”

“Not sleeping well or too busy?”

“Just busy. Bottle-feeding puppies is like having a baby again. Which reminds me.” Her hand landed on the carrier. “I need you to check these little ones. Ghita took their stats. They don’t have a fever, but something feels . . . off. I know that isn’t scientific . . .”

“I’ve learned to trust your instincts.” He stood, peering into the dog crate and pulling out the puppies, one at a time, in a big, calloused hand. He stared into their eyes, talking while he assessed them. “You’re taking on too much. There are other volunteers, even other rescues who can help—”

“With five pit bull puppies? Maybe if I put little fuzzy coats on them so they look like poodles.” She elbowed him. “Come on. Laugh. That’s rescue humor.”

“I’m genuinely concerned.” His eyes searched hers. “For them and you. You’re no good to anyone if you burn out.”

She tried not to let it sway her to hear someone care about her needs. “Rest?” She made a weak attempt at a joke. “If you’re trying to get rid of me just say so.”

He clasped a hand on her shoulder. “Lacey, you know that’s not true.”

His warm, strong grip sent a tingle through her that had nothing to do with comfort. She stood still for a second, stunned at the unexpected—there was no other word for it—sizzle. She was not ready for this.

And she definitely couldn’t handle the confusing mix of guilt and attraction that made her recall how long it had been since she’d been touched by a man.

Lacey stepped back carefully, needing distance from feelings she was completely ill prepared to face, not now, too soon. Too much. “Truly, Ray, have I overstayed my welcome? I can clear half the bill today and will settle the rest next week.”

He eyed her for a lengthy moment before lifting out the next squirming puppy. “Another online auction of something from your home?” He put his stethoscope to the pup’s chest. “I vow if you auction off the cuckoo clock, I’m going to start a protest march.”

“No chance of that. Trooper may eat the clock first anyway. He’s already tried to attack the bird twice.”

Laughing, the doc shifted his focus to the stethoscope. She stayed quiet while he listened to Thumbelina’s chest, and yes, that gave her a welcome moment to gather her scrambled thoughts. How had he remembered about the cuckoo clock in her house? Then she recalled how he’d come over late one night when someone let a horse loose in her yard and the mare was ready to drop a foal. She’d been at her wit’s end, unable to transport the animal—aside from the fact she’d only ever taken in dogs and cats prior to that day. She hadn’t even remembered Ray—Dr. Vega—coming into her house until now. She’d gotten him something to eat. He must have noticed the clock then.

Once he stopped listening to the puppy’s chest and stomach, she continued, “We’ve taken in a boarder. I’ll have more money to settle up my bill, and I’ll have help around the house to lighten the load.”

“A boarder?”

“A sergeant from the Army post, the one who brought Trooper to us.”

“I thought Sierra was moving into the loft apartment.”

A rogue thought blindsided her. Good Lord, was he interested in her daughter? That would make more sense. They were closer in age. Had she misread the signals earlier, thinking he was drawn to her when all along it was Sierra he had his eye on?

How mortifying that would have been if she’d let him know what she’d thought. “I feel bad about that for Sierra, but it’s a temporary delay and she understands we’re doing the best we can. What about the puppies?”

He draped his stethoscope around his neck. “Possibly the start of an upper respiratory infection. Their immune systems have taken a hit losing their mother and the antibodies from nursing. We’ll start them on antibiotics now, just in case. I’ll check the fecal samples Ghita took as well to see if they need a different dewormer.” He glanced at her as he settled Thumbelina back into the crate and pulled out Pinocchio. The fawn-colored pup looked so tiny in his broad palm. “And don’t worry about the cost. It’ll just be for the meds. Nothing for the exam.”

“That’s not fair to you. I told you I have money coming in.”

“I could scrap your bill altogether, write it off as a charitable deduction so you can save more animals.”

“You already write it off as charity, and you’ve given us such a cut rate it’s beyond unfair to you. But thanks.”

His eyes locked on her—and held. She blinked fast and looked back wondering, waiting.

“Lacey, pay the bill if that’s what it will take to make you more comfortable. I would give the same discount for any rescue with the same drive and integrity you have. The discount is about the animals. Our . . . friendship is separate from that.”

Friendship?

His hesitation over the word hadn’t been her imagination. Maybe she wasn’t wrong in her feeling that he was attracted to her—this thirty-two-year-old, incredibly sexy, charismatic, smart man. Ten years younger than she was and eons younger in life’s pain. But there was no mistaking the look of interest in his eyes right now.

Of course he wouldn’t act on it. She was still newly widowed. She wasn’t anywhere near over Allen’s death or ready for a relationship. She couldn’t stop herself from thumbing her wedding band around and around.

Yet deep in the pit of her exhausted, ulcer-filled belly a warmth flickered to life. For a selfish moment, she let herself bask in the tingly glow rather than push it aside out of guilt. She looked at him and
savored
.

His long hair curled up along the collar of his T-shirt. He was unconventional and the polar opposite of her military husband. Surely that’s what made him attractive to her. He was safe, a no comparison, no competition kind of guy. She didn’t have to question if she was filling a hole in her life with a substitute for Allen.

Could she possibly indulge her sex-starved body in one no-guilt night? She honestly didn’t know. But she let herself imagine the possibility for a steamy, fantasy-filled moment where she wore his duster, his hat . . .

And nothing else.

Seven

R
AMON VEGA HAD
loved Lacey McDaniel since the first time she’d walked into his vet clinic eighteen months ago with a two-year-old chow mix she’d pulled from the local shelter. The dog had been a victim of owner neglect, and had been hit by a car and never received treatment for the crushed leg. Her regular vet had cried uncle once the rescue started picking up speed, so she’d come to his clinic after hearing about his help at the shelter . . .

There’d been no choice but to amputate the chow’s leg. He’d performed the surgery while she stood at his side, never taking her eyes off the furry, matted beast she’d only just met but taken under her wing. This woman cared. Far more than the pet owner who’d had the animal for years. People like her were rare.

Ray struck a deal to help her with the special needs animals at her rescue.

He would have helped anyway. He already volunteered at the local shelter when he could. The fact he wanted to see Lacey again added extra incentive. He wasn’t the kind of guy who chased married women—or even allowed himself to give them a second thought—but he hadn’t seen a wedding ring that day. And he damn sure had checked.

Later, he discovered she’d had her rings off due to skin irritation from washing a litter of mangy puppies in a sulfur dip. By the time he’d learned she had a husband and two kids, it was too late for his heart. He loved her and couldn’t have her. Didn’t matter that she was older than he was—she was quite simply Lacey, sexy in a way that had nothing to do with years or cover model gloss. She would be every bit as mesmerizing when she turned eighty, no doubt still crusading for the animals.

He usually only let himself look at her when she was busied with something else. But right now, she was staring at him, really
seeing
him, so what the hell. He looked back. Her honey brown curls were the natural kind, not ones that came from hours in front of a mirror. She had wide green eyes, freckles and a crazy sense of style that slayed him. He’d always been a renegade, and he recognized the kindred spirit in her.

Finally, she twitched, her hand nervously tucking a sun-kissed curl back into her loose knot. “I guess I should go.”

He hadn’t meant to chase her away, damn it. He wanted more time with her. Just to be near her.

“I’ll carry Trooper out to your car.” He stroked a hand along the tan and brown mutt’s chest.

Trooper growled softly, fangs showing.

“Easy, boy.” He stroked again and again, watching the dog’s respiration. Better not to make direct eye contact anyway with the possibly fractious canine.

Lacey shifted from one red heel to the other. “Guess he’s still not pleased with you over the neuter surgery.”

Ray smiled along at the joke. “More likely it’s the aftereffects of the anesthesia.”

Ray still wasn’t a hundred percent sure he trusted this dog that had grown up feral, scavenging in the desert. Lacey had good instincts, but this animal had been thrust on her. She’d never been given a chance to evaluate him. And she certainly hadn’t been given a choice, much like her whole adult life so far as he could see—bringing up two kids pretty much on her own and now taking care of her husband’s father to boot.

Gently scruffing the skin along the back of Trooper’s neck to calm him, Ray scooped him up, a warm weight with the smell of Betadine and dog funk. “Lead the way to your car.”

“You really don’t have to do this for me.” She hefted the puppy carrier from the exam table. “I’m sure you’ve got other patients to check on . . .”

“Ghita,” he called over his shoulder, “can you take care of filling the prescriptions for the puppies? I wrote everything down on the chart. We’re carrying out the animals now.”

“Can do, Doc Ray,” Ghita’s clipped Midwestern accent called back from the other room. “I’ll bring the meds right out.”

“No worries, Lacey, the rest of the vets have left for the day and I’ve only got one boarding patient left to check in on.” A lie, but no need to worry her. “Ghita and Maisie are on their way out.”

“If you’re sure . . . Thanks.” Lacey lugged the carrier and shouldered her way past Maisie half blocking the open door.

Good Lord, Ray thought, that girl hovered in doorways all the time. She was a lot like a gangly puppy, always underfoot. But she was the senior partner’s niece and she made the customers smile.

Lacey walked alongside him through the lobby and out into the parking lot, the sinking sun warm, but not too much so thanks to a light breeze. She smelled like lavender soap and bleach. He’d dated a girl once who sold aromatherapy burners at home parties. She would have said lavender was a calming scent.