Then Came You

Not only was the door locked, but he had the alarm on as well. Half braced for it to go off, he strode down the hall through the darkened receptionist area as a key turned in the lock.

The door opened before he got there and he stared in surprise at Emily. Her arms were full, she was struggling to hold onto an animal and pound in the alarm code at the same time.

He got to her and reached for the . . . dog. A very bloody young dog who bared its teeth when he came close.

“Careful,” Emily said, sounding distressed and possibly in tears.

His stomach clenched as he brushed her hand away from the keys and entered the code. Then he turned back to the dog. Definitely young, possibly not even a year old. Male. Lab, with some pit bull in him, approximately fifty pounds. “Aw, buddy,” he said in a quiet, calm voice, “what happened to you, huh?”

The dog stopped showing his teeth.

“Someone hurt you,” he murmured. “Let’s fix you up, okay?”

The dog stopped growling.

“That’s a good boy,” Wyatt said, continuing to talk as he reached for him again.

This time the dog let him scoop him from Emily’s arms. She straightened, visibly relieved at the loss of the weight. She ran ahead of him, turning on lights to the surgery room.

“What happened?” Wyatt asked, gently placing the dog on the table.

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “I found him like this. I think maybe he was attacked by coyotes, I keep hearing them near my house.”

She came close with a stethoscope, and listened to the heart rate while Wyatt stroked the dog’s head, silent until she looked up at him.

“One eighty,” she said.

Normal for a dog was sixty to one hundred and twenty. One eighty was too high, forcing the heart to pump too fast for it to fill adequately. Still, the dog wasn’t behaving all that abnormally. He was clearly hurt, tired, and weak. He was panting, but that could be nerves from being on a table at a vet’s office. He certainly wasn’t disoriented or overly aggressive. Wyatt waited, watching Emily to see if she wanted him to take over for her. He could tell she was emotionally invested, and that was both a great thing and a curse.

He’d seen more than a few vets fresh out of medical school attempt this crazy life and then quit within a few months, unable to take the emotional strain. He hoped that wouldn’t be her, she was far too good a doctor to walk away.

She moved around the table to check the dog’s mouth. It was what he’d have done next as well, checking the color of the gums. Nodding to herself, she began to look over the injuries. “Pain meds, antibiotics, and a sedative,” she said. “To keep him calm while we scrub out the wounds and stitch.” She looked up, caught him watching her, and cocked her head. “What?”

He smiled. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I am okay,” she said. “It’s the dog who isn’t.”

“I mean you’re going to do this. You’re going to stick with being a vet.”

“You think I accrued a mountain of college debt not to stick?”

He gri

“Well how about you just check his temperature and I’ll clip, flush, and scrub?”

“Ah,” he said. “You gave me the fun job.”

She snorted, and at the sound, he felt better. He took the dog’s temp, found it normal, and was further relieved. He cranked up the heater in the room and used a Bair Hugger, a blanket that blew warm air around an injured animal in danger of going in shock.

She had the clippers and was already working on trimming fur away from the worst of the cuts.

“We going to talk about it?” he asked.

She didn’t play dumb. “Yeah. Sure.”

“It was serious stuff, the things Sara said.”

Her mouth went a little grim as she administered the meds with a steady hand. “True, but it wasn’t her stuff to say.”

“Maybe not,” Wyatt murmured. “But her heart seems to be in the right place.” He hadn’t liked knowing how hurt Emily had been in the past, but he’d needed to hear it. Something had begun to shift for him over the past few weeks when it came to his feelings for her.

They’d deepened. Far more than he’d ever expected them to.

She met his gaze, her own flashing a fierce independence and pride. “I’m fine,” she said firmly. “I want you to know that much. I have all my stupid pieces.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so maybe a few pieces are dented, but I’m not broken or anything. I really am fine.”

He gave a little smile. “You are that.”

“And we never talked about it before because we both know where we stand,” she said. “We started this thing out as a one-time thing, and I get that its since turned into a few times, but it’s still just . . .”

“Fun and games?” he asked wryly.

“You said it, too,” she reminded him. “That night in your truck. You said that when we parted in Reno, you hadn’t pla

He took in her earnest expression and let out a long, slow breath. He knew that about her. He loved that about her. “Well, I know how,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t. Not with you. Never with you.”

“So . . .” She searched his face. “We’re good?”

She wanted them to be okay. She needed them to be okay. And damn, but he did, too. He wanted a lot of things actually, most of which would have to wait. “Yeah. We’re good.”

They worked in silence on the sedated dog, flushing the wounds with disinfectant, suturing a few of the deepest wounds, treating and bandaging everything else.

“He’s going to need antibiotics, pain meds, and bandage management daily for a good solid week,” he said when they’d finished. “Are we releasing him into your care?”

She blew out a breath and picked up the still sleepy, sedated dog with a sweet gentleness that was more than doctor to patient.

Recognizing the signs well, Wyatt smiled. “Yeah, we’re releasing him into your care.”

“Just until I find his owner,” she said. She looked exhausted, on edge, and deeply u

Shit.

“He’s going to need watching over tonight,” he said, “and I’ve got a lot more paperwork to do, anyway. Let me take him for you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask.” Together, they looked down at the dog in Emily’s arms. His eyes opened and locked on Emily, big and forlorn.

She sucked in a breath.

Already, the dog knew how to charm a woman.

“I’m taking him with me,” Emily said, and looked at Wyatt. She caught his grin. “Just until I find his owner,” she repeated.

“Uh-huh.”

“You can resist these warm, brown eyes?” she asked.

“Sweetness, I live with two sisters who are the queens of male manipulation. I can resist anyone and anything.”

An empty, hollow untruth, because he’d never been able to resist the underdog, the injured, the weak. Ironically, he couldn’t resist Emily either, though she was just about the least weak woman he’d ever met.

“So not true,” she said, calling him on his bullshit. “You live with your sisters because you can’t resist taking care of them. And you spend way more time with each animal you see than is necessary. And I’ve seen you treat them for free when their owners don’t have money. You can’t resist a damn thing.”

No kidding, and especially not her.

Twenty-one

You think you have me all figured out?” Wyatt asked softly.

Did she think that? No. Not in a million years. “Maybe not completely,” Emily said.

He looked at her for a beat, then took the dog from her and gently set him inside a crate.

“But—” she started, stopping when he turned back and pulled her into him.

Her body instantly came alive. “Wyatt—”

“Shh,” he said, lowering his head to press his jaw to hers. “I need a hug.”