Page 4 of Hellcat

He didn't doubt it.

Ian wondered how long she'd been a vet, how old she was. He would have said mid-twenties if he hadn't known her profession, but it took a while to become a vet, so that placed her in her late twenties, at least.

She was definitely taken. No way she wasn't. If a woman like that was single, every regular male around her was an idiot.

Ian found himself sniffing her scent, inhaling it and paying attention to the subtleties he caught. Yeah, there was a guy there, but his scent was too well blended with hers. Family. A brother or a father. Alcohol. Not drunk by her, but it lingered in the air. Something else...

"Are you into pottery?"

She lifted a brow, then laughed.

"Do I have clay on my face?"

"Fingernails," he replied, because it was true, and marginally less creepy than saying he'd smelled it.

She looked at her nails and found them unmarred.

"Really? I wash my hands a billion times a day or so.“

Ian shrugged. "I smell residues. I grew up with a cousin who took up like, a dozen hobbies. She did pottery for years. I remember the smell."

"Fair enough. Yeah, I don't really get to do it often these days, but I had a day off yesterday, so I made some plates."

"Do you sell them?" he asked. "I remember Roxanne had like, a hundred plates and vases and stuff. My dad told her to get rid of them or he'd break them, so she sold them and took up knitting instead."

"Your dad sounds like an ass." She winced. "Sorry."

Ian laughed. "No problem. He's a complete ass. I moved to a new place six months ago, and I literally have two mugs, four plates and one bowl. If you have an Etsy store or something, let me know."

Tania shook her head. "Sorry, I never had the time to set up anything like that. I just drop them off at a local store. She sells them and gives me a cut. I donate it. God knows I don't need to add more stuff to my tax return."

"Fair enough."

The next moment was awkward; it was the end of the conversation and she was done with Cutie. They should have shaken hands and said goodbye, but instead they both lingered wordlessly.

"But hey, I could—I guess I could bring some, for when you're coming back for Cutie's op? It's next week, right?"

He lifted a brow. "Sure. Great. Let me know how much they are."

She chuckled, waving her hand. "Don't worry about it. You haven't even seen them. And I'm a little like Roxanne—there are loads all over my place. You'd be doing me a favor."

"No way. It's money you could donate for a good cause."

"But I am! I'm donating them to a hopeless bachelor in desperate need of tableware."

She was nice. And cute, too.

Dammit. Ian had hoped for a nice easy lay, a hit it and quit it. Whatever this woman was, she wasn't that. And he didn't have time for anything else.

Chapter 3

Tania was fucking exhausted.

She shouldn't complain. She was doing exactly what she'd always dreamed about: taking care of animals. Her uncle, Donald, had been a vet, and watching him save a sick mare when she was six years old had set her course. Fast forward two decades, she had a shiny new degree, and she was taking care of well-trimmed poodles and chihuahuas in an LA practice. It hadn't paid much, but she'd always loved the vibrant coast, full of distractions.

That had been until six months ago, when Donald called her after a car accident. His practice, a few miles outside Hawthorne, was busy and successful, serving various towns in the area. He had a staff of three vets and five nurses. But one of his main vets was on maternity leave, and with him out of commission for a few months because of a broken wrist and a bad back, the practice was severely understaffed.

Tania didn't even consider an alternative: she'd packed up her bag, sublet her apartment, and headed home. Donald deserved it. Her childhood wouldn't have been the same without the kind, patient, supportive man who'd never minded her crashing at his place when things were rough at home.

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