Page 29 of The Perfect Pass
She nodded, eyes wide as saucers, and he noticed that the tag pinned to her kitten scrubs said Maisie. “I…um…sorry. I didn’t expect you to actually come here. I thought you’d send an assistant or a butler or something.”
Jackson had never had a butler, but sometimes he stilllonged for the days when he had an assistant. Although lately, that thought had been creeping its way into his head with less and less regularity.
“No assistant and no butler.” He shrugged. “Just me.”
Maisie stood, seemingly paralyzed, gazing up at him while Bishop snorted at their feet.
“If you don’t mind, Maisie, I’m kind of in a rush. We have a game tonight,” Jackson said.
Calla must’ve pulled some strings, because when he called Dr. Dunne’s office earlier this morning, he’d been able to score an appointment for Bishop at the perfect time—just after school, with a few hours to spare before the players were scheduled to arrive back on campus for the team warm-up and other pregame activities. Whoever he’d spoken to at the time had been older and not as obviously star-struck as poor Maisie.
Her head bobbed at his prompting. “Right. Okay. Come this way, Jackson Knight.”
He followed her down a short hallway toward the exam rooms. “You can just call me—”
“Coach Knight!” A familiar voice echoed off the paneled walls.
Jackson turned, surprised to see Tommy Riess, the kid who’d escorted him to the cafetorium on parade day, cradling a slender dog with a mouse-like face and a purple cast on one of its tiny legs.
“Tommy.” He drew back in surprise. “What are you doing here? Is that your dog?”
“No, sir. I work here,” he said, grinning broadly.
So he was in the marching band, played on the football teamandhe had a part-time job at the pet clinic? When did this kid sleep?
Jackson suddenly felt a lot better about promoting him from the fifth-string lineup to the fourth string and relieving him of his equipment manager duties, despite his clumsy ball-handling skills. He obviously had a great work ethic. He’d get there, eventually.
“Tommy’s great with our patients.” An older man dressed in a white coat strolled up beside them and patted the teen on the shoulder. Calla’s father, if Jackson had to guess.
“Reallygreat.” Maisie nodded, twirling a lock of her dark hair around one of her fingers.
“Maisie, I can take this from here,” Dr. Dunne said with a discreet nod toward the reception area.
“Right.” She flashed Jackson a parting smile before scurrying back to her desk.
“We’re all big fans around here.” The veterinarian offered Jackson his hand for a shake. “It’s nice to officially meet you. I’m Bill Dunne.”
“Nice to meet you, as well,” Jackson said.
“Calla speaks very highly of you.”
Did she, now? That was certainly an interesting development.
Jackson couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips. “The feeling is mutual. Thank you for squeezing us in this afternoon. Calla said you might be able to help with Bishop’s separation anxiety.”
“His allergies, too,” Tommy said.
“We can certainly try,” Dr. Dunne added with gentle understanding.
Jackson was already feeling better about Bishop’s predicament, and they hadn’t even made it to the exam room yet.
“We’ll get you in and out of here as quickly as possible.” Dr. Dunne’s gaze shifted toward Tommy. “You, too. I know you’ve both got a big game tonight. Calla and I will be there with bells on to watch.”
Tommy scrunched his face. “You know I’m not going to actually play, right, Dr. Dunne? I’ll be on the bench, just like last year.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Dr. Dunne offered the boy a kind smile. “Everyone on the team is important. Right, Coach?”
Jackson nodded. “Exactly. Don’t sell yourself short, Tommy.”
