Page 4 of The Dire Reaction

I find Jenny who’s busy wiping down the table in room three. “I need your help for just a minute. We need to give the distemper shots in the back.” She locks me with her brown eyes and nods, a wisp of blond hair flits across her forehead. This isn’t the first time we’ve taken animals to a different room.

I doubt it will be the last.

I head straight there, antsy to get this done. I’m just getting everything gathered when Jenny walks in with a very wrapped up angry kitten.

“She scratched the shit out of Mrs. Forester.” Jenny’s eyes are huge as she whispers.

“I can’t imagine why since she was squeezing her so hard I thought her whiskers were going to pop off,” I say quietly, trying not to laugh.

Jenny giggles as I give the small injection to the protesting feline.

“She’s all set. Bring her back in six months for her follow ups. Thank you, Mrs. Forester, have a great afternoon.” I smile my practiced smile, and drop the chart on Jenny’s desk.

I practically run back to my office, closing the door behind me. I do a quick spot check in the mirror that acts as my coat rack and fix a few tendrils that have fallen loose from my braid.

Maybe that looks sexy? Curling it down the side?

A dash of pink lip gloss, but not too much.

I’m so bad at this. I haven’t dated since high school besides coffee dates in college. I’m a freaking doctor. I shouldn’t be pining like a schoolgirl.

Was that the main door?

My heart rate spikes. My pulse rushes through my ears.

Nails click on the hard linoleum floor. I hear a deep rumble of a voice drifting from the main desk, and Jenny’s, muted through the door.

I’m going to pass out if I don’t stop hyperventilating.

Jenny gives a soft knock and pokes her head into my office. “Mr. Downing is here,” she says with a broad smile.

Go time.

I gather the documentation I’ve received and the criteria checklist. The turnaround was surprisingly short from when I accepted their trial request and when everything arrived.

Armed with a clipboard to grip, I step into the waiting area.

He’s there.

Folded into one of the chairs. His ankle propped on his knee. Dark blond hair curls from beneath his baseball cap.

And his eyes. They suck me in. Dark blue pools, a crater lake in a volcano.

The corner of his mouth turns up. “Doctor.”

“Yes, hello, Mr. Downing.” I’m shaken from my momentary stupor. “If you’d like to come into my office, I can go over the details of the clinical trial with you.”

I finally notice his dog, a giant white Great Pyrenees standing idly next to him. Heavy jowls are dripping while he placidly watches me.

How could I miss a white dog standing between us that weighs almost a hundred and fifty pounds?

Turning on my heel to hide the flush of heat rising into my cheeks, I beeline for the safety of my desk. Maybe putting that between us will help?

I hear the click of the dog's nails behind me, but I don’t want to turn around until I reach my chair.

He fills the door when he steps in. Broad shoulders under a black coat that narrows his waist even more.

His gaze almost hurts as it pierces into me.

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