“Eller. Rachael Eller.”
“Ms. Eller,” Rick nodded, “is there someone I can call to come pick you up? I’m not certain you should be driving right now.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m okay. I’m not far from here.”
“I think it would be best if—”
“I said I’m okay,” Rachael lashed out, unexpectedly angry.
Cora glanced their way and quickly returned her attention to Olive.
He looked like he wanted to argue, but held up his hands placatingly. “Can I at least convince you to stay for a few minutes until you are more at ease? Perhaps a snack?”
Glancing at Olive, she realized she was not ready to leave her yet. “That would be nice,” she murmured. While Cora turned to collect supplies, Rachael ran her finger across the bridge of Olive’s little nose, smoothing the soft and damp hairs down on either side. It was jarring to know how quickly these two little balls of fur had lodged themselves in her heart. She thought about the first time Olive had leapt up into her arms at the shelter, and how Rachael knew they would be coming home with her. To see that spritely dog now crumpled before her was heartbreaking and devastating.
Rick returned to the exam room with small bags of pretzels and cold sodas. “Vending machine snacks. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” she replied, plucking a can of pop and a snack out of his hands.
They settled on the chairs in the corner. Rachael angled herself so she could keep an eye on her sleeping dog while Cora tended to her.
He followed her gaze. “No need to worry. She is in excellent care. You said you adopted her recently?”
“Mhm. I volunteer at the shelter downtown when I have time. Olive and Martini—her brother—were so sweet and lovely. Everyone doubted they would get adopted together, so I had to take them home.”
“It happens,” he nodded, “but not nearly enough. A lot of pets out there need homes.”
Rachael frowned and popped a pretzel in her mouth, chewing slowly. So many Olives and Martinis left abandoned and afraid. It made her sad.
“They are lucky you found them,” he said, trying to lift her mood.
She smiled, noting his light-brown hair and wide, warm brown eyes, his classic features reminding her of Barbie’s mate, Ken. A light scruff of five o’clock shadow lined his square jaw. He was younger than she originally thought—maybe mid-to-late thirties. Tall, long-limbed, and fit. He was a sight for sore eyes. Groaning inwardly, Rachael wondered what her eyes must look like now.
“Thank you for letting me use your sweater,” she said, holding up her arm. They both laughed at the extra length of knitted cloth dangling from her hand.
“You’re welcome.” He glanced over to the countertop where her bloody blazer was balled up. “Would you like your jacket to take home?”
Cringing, she shook her head. “Please dispose of it.” Rachael couldn’t imagine ever wanting to wear that again. Even if the blood came out, it would be permanently stained with the pain of this evening.
He watched her for a moment then picked up a notepad and pen. “Here’s the office number and my personal cell. You can call me any time you want an update on Olive.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the paper and tucking it into her pocket.
“Eller . . . Any relation to Charles Eller?”
Here it comes.
“Yes, he’s my dad.”
Rachael glanced to see if Cora was listening, but she was engrossed in her work.
“Oh, what’s that like?” Rick asked.
“Aside from our lives revolving around EHL, I suppose it’s like any other family. A little more exposed to the world, I guess. Always something going on somewhere.”
“I imagine you get a lot of recognition.”
“A bit, but not as much as you might expect,” Rachael tilted her head, lost in thought. “My parents never tried to push us onto their stage, the spotlight. While I enjoy the work, the thrill of closing the sale, I prefer a quiet, more private life, and they have always respected that.”
“That’s admirable.”
“I think so. They never demanded that we go into the family business. Instead, they always encouraged us to be independent and self-sufficient, to pursue what we love, what we found interesting.” It was true. The Ellers lived simply and worked hard. Rachael and Carlie attended public schools, went to public universities, and each made the conscious decision to join EHL. “We’ve put in long hours and a lot of elbow grease to get where we are today.”
“Quite an accomplishment. A lot of parents could learn from that kind of philosophy.”
“We’re lucky. I love my life, my family, my work. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“That is lucky,” Rick agreed. “And increasingly rare today.”
Rachael bit her lip, realizing she had been babbling. She was such a mess. But at least the vet didn’t seem to mind. Or he was used to people falling apart in here.
They finished their pretzels and he returned to monitor Cora’s progress, complimenting her excellent work.
“I’ll see you back here tomorrow?” He glanced back at Rachael. “I assume you’ll want to check on her?”
She nodded and joined him, giving her sleeping Olive a quick kiss on her head. “Yes, you’ll be seeing a lot of me, I imagine.”
He smiled. “Until tomorrow then.”
5
The house felt oddly quiet the next morning without the second half of the Martini and Olive duo. Rachael kept her eye on the single fur baby while she pressed her phone to her ear, relaying the evening’s horrible events to her sister.
“I think Martini is depressed, but I’m doing a little better.”
Carlie was quiet, and Rachael knew she was managing her own worries for Olive. “I’m so sorry, Rach.”
Rachael smiled at the softie that was her sister. “Thanks.”
“Still on for tonight?” Carlie inquired.
“Yes, and tell Kim to be on time.” Carlie’s best friend was notorious for arriving late.
Carlie’s laughter filled the line. “She’ll be there when she gets there. See you tonight, Rach. Give the pups some love from Auntie Carlie.”
Rachael ended the call and stared at Martini, lying morosely on her foot. “My poor boy. You miss your sister, don’t you?”
He lifted his head from his paws and tilted it this way and that, then lay down again with a pathetic huff. Rachael scratched the fluffy fur between his ears and planted a kiss on his head as she got up to leave her room. “You’re a good boy,” she whispered.
Dad was making a quiet racket, puttering about in the kitchen. She could smell coffee brewing. There were definite perks to living at home again.
“Morning, Dad,” she said, grabbing a large mug. “Vanilla creamer?”
He nodded toward the fridge. “In there.”
Charles Eller, the conversationalist. Rachael smiled while doctoring her coffee. Mom totally disapproved of her daughter’s sweet and creamy addiction, but Rachael told her it was that or smoking. Her mother never pressed again after that. She was such a rotten daughter.
Martini scampered down from upstairs and danced at the back door. She let him out and blew on her coffee. Dad called it his morning medicine. Rachael couldn’t disagree.
“Sorry to hear about Olive,” he said over his coffee and newspaper.
“Thanks. I still can’t believe it. But at least the people at the animal hospital seem like they know what they’re doing. I’m going to go check on her later. Want to come?”
His confused eyes met hers over the paper, attempting to ferret out if she was serious. He returned his gaze to the story without answering.
Guess that’s a no.
Rachael slipped out the back door and sat on a deck chair, watching the sun dry the morning dew. Martini ran up the stairs and jumped, his paws leaving little wet marks on her gray leggings.
“Down, boy,” she murmured, trying to be patient wi
th him. He’s probably worried. What must that be like, being an animal whose partner in crime suddenly disappeared? It’s not like she could explain it to him. She tickled under his jawline, hoping it wouldn’t be too long until Olive could return home.
Her phone vibrated and she checked the screen. It was Kim. Sorry about Olive. Car told me. Need anything?
Kim drove her batshit crazy, but she was her little sister in all but blood. A loud, annoying, perpetually late sister, but she cared. She and Carlie had been best friends since they started elementary school together, and Kim was more often at the Eller house than her own dysfunctional family home.
You’re sweet for asking. I’m good for now. See you tonight?
You know it, girlfriend.
It would be good to spend some time with Carlie and Kim. It had been strange not seeing them when they were busy with college, but now that they were both settled into their new routines, they were rekindling the tight trio. Rachael did not have a big circle of friends, but those in it were critical to her life. And Carlie and Kim were at the core of the tight circle.
Removing the slip of paper from her pocket, she tapped out a new text message. Hi. This is Rachael Eller—the nut job who accompanied the sweet dog last night. How did Olive do overnight?
She absently wondered if he was still asleep. How late did he work? After confirming the gate was closed, she threw the ball for Martini, and mumbled to the now-inattentive pup, “Hope we didn’t wake him up.”
Her phone vibrated and she glanced down, expecting a response from Rick. Instead she was greeted by a sweet text from Gabe. Thinking about you this morning. Dinner tomorrow?
Dinner tomorrow? With Gabe? She tapped her finger on the side of the phone, wondering if it would be better to put this off until after Olive was better. And after the contracts were settled. She was prepared to push it off, when her traitorous fingers typed their own message.
Sounds good. 7?
I’ll pick you up.
What was she doing? Groaning, she set the phone down and considered Mr. McAllister. Gabe was a showboat, for sure, but he was also surprisingly forthcoming and willing to admit to his faults. That was appealing. They were doing everything backward, but she had to admit she was intrigued. She still couldn’t see him as a romantic partner, but he was fun and easy to talk to.
“Ready to go inside, buddy?”
Martini ran to the door and glanced back at her expectantly. She opened the patio door and followed his racing footsteps. Rachael was more than ready for breakfast and another dose or three of coffee.
“Another cup?” her mom asked as she swept into the kitchen, taking in the dirty dishes on the table and stovetop.
“Nerves,” Rachael said, sweeping the dirties into the sink, noting her dad had left. “Olive.”
Her mom poured a cup of black coffee and sat at the table. “How did it go with Gabe yesterday?”
Rachael turned to the sink and started scrubbing the dishes, careful not to give her mother any ammo. “It went well. He was kind of full of himself until I threatened to leave. Then he chilled and starting being a normal human. Or as normal as he can be.”
When her mother didn’t say anything, Rachael looked over her shoulder to see what the reaction was. Her bright blue eyes were staring off into space.
“Mom?”
Mary blinked and looked at her daughter. “Sorry, just thinking. He’s an interesting kid.”
“Mom, he’s older than me.”
“He’s thirty-one. That’s still a kid to me, kiddo.”
Rachael rolled her eyes and turned back to load the dishwasher.
“Those go on the top rack, Rachael. You know that.”
Immediately flashing back to being a gawky twelve-year-old, she grumbled about being an adult and needing her own place again.
Laughter came from the table. “I agree. But as long as you’re here, it’s still my rules.”
After correcting the dishes, Rachael dropped into a chair next to her. “Mom?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think I can trust him?”
Mary Eller tapped her fingernails on the wooden kitchen table a few times before looking up. “I know Bruce, his dad. We’ve known each other for years. He’s decent enough, but very imposing. I don’t know much about his kids, but I think as long as you are careful, there’s nothing wrong with pursuing a friendship with him.”
She emphasized the word friendship. Heavily.
“And if it were to ever become something more than friends?”
She stared down at her coffee before meeting her daughter’s eyes. “Rachael, you are aware of his reputation. It’s not flattering, especially to the women he chooses to spend time with. I believe a century or two ago, they would have called him a rake.” She smirked. “The more time you spend with him, the more speculation will arise, and the more you’re opening yourself up to being in the headlines. Make sure it’s something you’re prepared for and willing to put up with.”
Rachael frowned and considered this. She didn’t mind being the center of attention for brief bursts of time, but she also didn’t want continual focus and for the wrong things to be said, marring her professional reputation. That would be disastrous for her career. Was that an acceptable level of risk?
Her phone vibrated from the kitchen counter. Olive is stable. I’ll be back in to check on her around 2.
Relieved, Rachael grinned at Martini. “Your sister is stable!”
Mom rolled her eyes and left.
“Don’t let her get to you. Her bark is worse than her bite,” Rachael murmured to Martini, looking after her mom’s retreating form.
“I heard that,” she shouted.
“You were supposed to,” Rachael teased back.
Thank you so much. And sorry I took off with your sweater. I’ll bring it back.
No problem.
Her curiosity got the better of her. How late do you work?
Last night I was there til 11. I usually work day shift, but covered last night.
And you’ll be back there again today?
Of course. I need to check on Olive and a couple other patients.
Won’t another vet be there?
Yes, but my job isn’t something I can easily walk away from. Especially when they have humans as concerned as you.
She smiled at the phone, touched to see he was going above and beyond for her little Olive. Thank you. See you at 2?
I’ll be the tall guy in the white coat.
She laughed at his description. Guess that makes me the short girl in the borrowed sweater.
You wear it better than me.
Laughing again, she put the phone down. A vet with a sense of humor. Who knew?
6
The same matronly woman was behind the desk. Rachael recalled the last time she entered the building and blushed as she approached the desk. What was her name? She scanned the reception area for clues. No nameplate, no business cards, nothing to help. Well, that was frustrating. She was usually so good with names.
“Ma’am?” she finally landed on.
“No need to ma’am me. Please, dear, call me Nancy,” she said, welcoming Rachael as though nothing had happened.
“Nancy.” Rachael smiled. “I want to apologize again for my behavior yesterday. I am appalled that I was so rude.”
She stood and gestured for Rachael to follow. “No need to keep apologizing. Completely understandable. I would have been flustered, too. Say no more about it. It’s behind us now.” Nancy nodded emphatically. “Now then, I think you’ll be happy to see how well our little patient is doing today.”
They entered a different area of the building and Rachael saw Olive asleep on a light pad in a large, clean crate. Rachael rushed over, skimming the top of Olive’s silky head with two fingertips, while noting the white cast around her dog’s broken rear leg.
“She’s doing well this morning,” came a voice behind her.
She turned to see the handsom
e vet. “Dr. Thomas, I’m so glad to see you here.”
“Rick,” he gently corrected. He set his laptop aside and joined her at Olive’s side. The dog cracked her eye open and lifted her paw halfheartedly into the air, then dropped it back on the pad and resumed her sleep.
“She’s still lightly sedated,” Rick explained.
“The cast?”
“We’ll check it every ten days and assess. It’ll be at least two weeks, could be up to six. It depends on how she heals.”
Rachael watched Olive doze, reliving those horrible moments. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you in time,” she whispered, fighting a lump in her throat.
“Miss Eller? Rachael?” he interjected quietly. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for this. Accidents happen.”
“That’s right, honey,” Nancy patted the top of her hand. “It can happen to anyone at any time. You should be pleased by how quickly you pulled yourself together and got her the help she needed.”
Sniffing, Rachael gave her a smile. “My nerves have been completely on edge since then. I still can’t believe this happened.”
Nancy’s speculative gaze measured her then turned back to Rick. “What are you planning to do the rest of the day?”
“Hmm? Today?” He set down his pen and glanced at Nancy in confusion.
She nodded to Rachael and back at him.
A flush creeped up his neck and he shook his head subtly. The older woman’s giddy grin grew at his clear discomfort.
Oh, Lord.
A meddling, matchmaking receptionist?
Clad in a familiar white coat, another man entered the room. “We’re all set, Rick. Get out of here and enjoy the afternoon.”
“Rachael, this is Dr. Gil Brennan,” Rick said. “He’ll be keeping an eye on Olive for the rest of the day.”
Gil shook Rachael’s hand as he ushered her out to the waiting area, Rick following close behind. “Nancy, please call me if anything changes,” Rick requested.
“Will do, Rick. Now, you go take that young lady out for a stiff drink. I suspect she could use one after all this stress.”
Animal Attraction Page 4
