by Jane Graves
“I thought you needed to know,” she said, dropping her voice dramatically. “I mean, what if some irate father storms through the door with a shotgun and asks you what your intentions are?”
“Intentions? They’re sixteen years old!”
“Precisely! There are laws against that kind of thing!”
Matt had the glazed, wide-eyed look of a possum staring into the headlights of an oncoming truck. Kay couldn’t remember the last time she’d had more fun rubbing something in. At the same time, though, there was something endearing about the fact that he hadn’t had a clue those girls suffered from a major case of the hots for him.
“Okay, Dr. Ramsey,” Matt said, still flustered but trying not to show it, “since you’ve so brilliantly diagnosed this problem, tell me what I need to do to treat it.”
He was so dead serious that Kay almost laughed out loud. Instead she maintained a somber expression and leaned toward him.
“It’ll take care of itself.”
“Huh?”
“Look, Matt. Teenaged girls swap their affections the way they swap their clothes. Give it a few weeks. One morning they’ll wake up and see you for the crusty old man you are and fall in love with some varsity football star two lockers down.”
“She’s right, you know.”
That verification came from Hazel, who never looked up from her crossword.
Matt turned to Hazel with disbelief. “So you noticed it, too?”
“Of course I noticed it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Figured you knew. Everyone else does.”
Kay hadn’t counted on Hazel adding insult to injury, and Matt’s expression of complete distress delighted her.
“But don’t worry,” Hazel added. “Like Kay said, in a couple of weeks they’ll forget all about you. You’ll be invisible.” Then, for the first time, the old woman peeked over the top of her crossword. “To everyone except Kay, that is. She’s logged more time staring at you than Ashley and Mandy put together.”
Chapter 5
A red hot flush started somewhere around Kay’s breastbone and filtered up to her face, and suddenly she wished the ground beneath her feet would open up and swallow her. Hazel’s words held so much truth that no matter how much she begged her brain to formulate a comeback, it flatly refused to comply.
Hazel lowered her head and put her pencil to her crossword again as though completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just lit a powder keg. Kay stood speechless, bracing herself to take whatever Matt was getting ready to throw at her, because after what she’d just put him through it was inconceivable that he’d let this one go.
But instead of pouncing on the opportunity, the smirk she expected to see was nowhere in sight. They stared at each other a long time, their gazes glued together. Matt’s mouth hung open, as if words were forming in his mind he couldn’t quite verbalize, and Kay knew she had to be wearing the same dumb expression. Seconds ticked away as something unspoken passed between them she couldn’t identify and certainly hadn’t counted on.
Finally Matt cleared his throat and said something to Hazel about having to get some paper for the printer. He came around the counter and brushed past Kay, then went into the back room and closed the door behind him.
Kay glanced back at Hazel, who never looked up from her crossword. Good God, had she been that obvious? She made a mental note that when Hazel was around, she shouldn’t even sneeze in Matt’s direction.
Kay slunk out of the reception area and returned to the Cat Room. She picked up the pooper-scooper and dug into her job with a vengeance, repeating to herself all the reasons why any kind of relationship with Matt Forester would be a match made in hell. Number one, he was a veterinarian. Number two, like Robert, he was intent on making her life miserable.
And number three, he was a veterinarian.
Later, on his on his way out of the shelter, Matt stopped at the counter where Hazel sat. “I think you embarrassed Kay earlier,” he said offhandedly.
“Like she didn’t embarrass you?” Hazel gave a little snort of disgust. “I just thought it was about time she got a taste of her own medicine, that’s all.”
“So,” he said, with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “She’s been staring at me, too?”
“Don’t act so oblivious. You’ve been doing plenty of looking of your own. Though why you would, I’ll never know.”
Because she’s gorgeous, that’s why!
But that was the man in him talking. Logically he knew Hazel was right. Kay was so not the woman for him. But still he wondered why she hadn’t denied Hazel’s accusation. So far she hadn’t hesitated to let it be known if she thought she’d been wronged. Instead she’d looked up at him wordlessly, those blue eyes wide, a pink flush rising on her cheeks. If only she’d denied it he might have been able to tease her about it, and then eventually they’d have tossed a few snide remarks at each other and let it go at that.
But she hadn’t denied it. Instead she’d just stood there, staring at him, until the moment grew so uncomfortable that he’d done them both a favor and extricated himself. She’s been thinking about you, too.
That thought brought on instant fantasies involving Kay in ways he’d prohibited himself from thinking about up to now. Then he took a deep breath and forced himself to look at the situation logically. She was one of the few young, attractive, unattached women who’d crossed his path since he’d become legally and morally free to look, so of course he was going to sit up and take notice. But he reminded himself that this particular woman was off- limits. Period. If he got involved with her and Hollinger found out, Matt was pretty sure he could kiss the grant goodbye. He issued himself a set of marching orders: Run the shelter as if its survival depends on you, and treat Kay as if its survival depends on Hollinger.
“You don’t like Kay much, do you, Hazel?”
“Something’s wrong with people who don’t like animals.”
“I caught her petting a kitten a few days ago. I think maybe there’s a heart in there somewhere.”
“Doc, you perform surgery, and I’m pretty sure even you couldn’t find her heart.”
That might be true. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he’d like to give it a try, anyway.
Kay dragged a bag of trash through the Dog Room toward the back door, eager to dispose of the final remnants of tonight’s Cat Room cleaning. She realized half an hour ago that she'd forgotten to record When Zombies Attack. Again. And because that series recording thing had never made it to the top of her mental to-do list, she barely had enough time to get home, shower, and plop in front of the TV with Sheila before the show started.
Just as she put her hand on the doorknob to go outside, she looked down and saw Chester lying in his cage. He glanced up at her with that ugly bulldog face, then rested his chin on his good paw and let out a little doggy sigh.
Kay felt that uncomfortable twist in her stomach again. How did Matt expect to find this mutt a home? A lot of decent-looking animals had been here for weeks, some for months. At least most of them had something going for them. Chester had nothing.
Well, okay. He didn’t bark a lot. That was a plus. Or maybe he realized the futility of it since he’d never be heard over Rambo, who at this moment was yapping away for absolutely no reason at all. And from what she’d seen, Chester’s personality seemed fairly sedate and agreeable, as dogs went. But who was ever going to look past the paw thing?
Kay dragged the trash bag out the back door, leaving it ajar as she crossed the yard to the back fence. The rickety gate leading to the alley squeaked painfully as she swung it open. She removed the lid from the trash can, but just as she was about to give the bag a final heave-ho, something big and black streaked past her. She spun around to see Rambo bounding down the alley.
“Rambo!” She stared at him a moment, dumbfounded. He circled and sniffed, then galloped away from her in blissful, bounding leaps. How in the world had he got
out?
Ashley. She’d been so wrapped up in gawking at Matt that she hadn’t latched his cage.
Again.
Kay watched him frolic down the alley, knowing she couldn’t possibly chase after that monster. He was like a bulldozer, mowing down anything that got in his way. Megadog. Supersized dog. Dog to the tenth power. No way could she even think about going after him.
She started to go inside to tell Matt and Hazel what had happened, but then she realized Rambo was already at the end of the alley and was making a right onto Gibson Street, and all at once she imagined him running out in front of a car and getting hit. Then she imagined the look that would be on Matt’s face when he found him. She’d been around here long enough to know that he loved every one of his animals, even a brainless maniac like Rambo, and he’d dedicated a huge part of his life to keeping them safe. How could she stand here and let one of them get away?
Kay took off running. When she reached the end of the alley, she spied Rambo three houses north, cavorting around a lawn sprinkler. For the next half hour she hop-scotched after him, nearly catching him a dozen times, only to have him slip from her grasp at the last minute.
She chased him down streets, across yards and through alleys, sharpening her vocabulary of four-letter words the whole way. Finally she saw him engaging in an intense sniffing contest with a little brown rag-mop of a dog through a chain-link fence. She tiptoed up behind him, clamped her hand onto his collar, then dug her heels into the grass and held on as he tried to take off again.
She yanked her belt from around her waist and looped it through Rambo’s collar, muttering really nasty things under her breath. She proceeded to drag him, leaping and panting, back toward the shelter, trying to pretend she really didn’t have a hundred pounds of canine hurricane on the end of a very short leash. The sun hovered low on the horizon as she finally pulled him through the gate into the backyard. About to drop from exhaustion, she climbed the back steps and reached out to open the door.
It was locked.
She beat on the door, calling as loudly as she could. No one answered. A feeling of foreboding oozed through her. Everyone was gone for the day.
Hadn’t they noticed she was gone? What about Rambo? How could they possibly have missed the fact that he wasn’t there?
In desperation she pulled Rambo through the backyard and headed next door to Matt’s clinic. Her panic escalated when she saw that no lights shone through the windows either upstairs or down. She banged on the front door. No response. Had he stepped out for a few minutes, or would he be gone the whole evening?
Call him.
She reached for her phone, only to realize she didn't have his cell number.
She stuck her phone back into her pocket and slumped onto the bench beside the front door, Rambo panting wildly beside her. “I can’t believe this,” she muttered, staring dumbly ahead. “I simply cannot believe this.”
She looked at her watch. It was twenty-five minutes until When Zombies Attack. If she wasn't home for that, Sheila was going to kill her.
She dragged Rambo down the steps to her car and hustled him into the back seat, thankful she’d thrown her purse in the trunk and her car keys in her pocket. She slid into the driver’s seat and glared at the dog in the rearview mirror.
“Now, listen up, dog. I can’t sit here all night, so you’re coming home with me. You’re going to go into my kitchen like a good little monster, where you’re going to stay until I get a hold of Matt. You are to keep your paws to yourself. Do you understand? You are to—”
Rambo took a flying leap into the front seat and slurped his tongue the length of Kay’s face. She shoved him away with disgust. He spun around and slimed the passenger window with his wet nose, then let out a bark that reverberated inside the car like an atomic explosion.
Kay started the car. “This is a bad idea,” she muttered. “A very bad idea.”
Matt stood at the makeshift podium in the cafeteria of Thomas Jefferson Middle School, wrapping up his address to the ladies of the McKinney Metropolitan Ladies’ Club. Over the past year he’d been asked to speak to a variety of groups about the shelter, which was good because it usually resulted in a few donations, and bad because he detested public speaking.
“...and as I said before,” Matt said, “you’re welcome to drop by the shelter anytime and see how we help these animals. And please consider volunteering some of your time, either at the shelter itself or as a temporary foster parent for one of our animals. Or adopt a pet yourself. We have plenty to pick from.” Oh, boy, do we. “There are lots of ways to get involved, to make a difference.” Matt flashed the most sincere smile he could muster. “The animals thank you, and so do I.”
As the ladies applauded, Mrs. Flaherty, the short, stout president of the McKinney Metropolitan Ladies’ Club, stepped up beside him, laid an envelope on the podium and leaned into the microphone.
“Dr. Forester, I know I speak for all of us when I say that we find your establishment of the Westwood Animal Shelter worthwhile both to the animals and the citizens of this community. In light of that, we’d like to present you with a small donation.”
Small? Lord, he hoped she was just being humble.
“Dr. Forester, please accept this check from the McKinney Metropolitan Ladies’ Club in the amount of...fifty dollars!”
Matt blinked with disappointment and groaned inwardly. Fifty dollars? Would the bank notice if he added a couple of zeros?
He forced himself to smile as Mrs. Flaherty handed him the check, then thanked her profusely, which led to another round of applause, and Matt wishing he was anywhere else.
By the time he extricated himself from the horde of chattering women and headed out of the building it had started to rain. As he ran through the downpour to his car, all he could think about was getting home, getting out of this suit, and maybe using the fifty-dollar check as a bookmark.
Fifty bucks. Damn.
He put the key into the ignition, then stopped and sat in silence for a moment. He had to stop this self-pity stuff. It wasn’t their fault he couldn’t say no to any misbegotten animal that wandered up to his door. And it wasn’t their fault his ex-wife was living it up on her income and half of his. Fifty bucks beat nothing, which is what he’d have gotten if he’d sat at home, cracked a beer, then fallen asleep on the sofa watching that trashy miniseries.
Minutes later he turned onto Porter Avenue and headed down the street toward home. As he drew closer, he saw a car in his driveway. He pulled up behind it and got out ignoring the rain that had settled into a warm drizzle. The evening thus far had been pretty boring, but as he looked toward the house there was no doubt in his mind that the excitement level was getting ready to pick up considerably.
Kay was sitting on his front porch—holding Rambo.
Chapter 6
Matt walked warily up the porch steps. Kay stood up, took a few steps forward and thrust the leash at him, which he could see now wasn’t a leash at all but a leather belt. At the same time Rambo leaped up and slapped his muddy paws against Matt’s chest.
“Rambo! Hey, buddy!” Matt scratched the dog behind the ears, then glanced at Kay and felt a twinge of dread. Something was terribly wrong here, and from the homicidal expression on her face he could tell he was about to bear the brunt of it.
“Where have you been?”
Matt recoiled, wondering what in the world he’d stepped into. “Well...was there someplace I was supposed to be?”
“Yes! You were supposed to be here two hours ago so you could put this mutt back in the shelter where he belongs!”
Matt glanced around, bewildered. “How did he get out of the shelter?”
Kay took a deep, angry breath and swiped her limp blond hair away from her face. “I took out the trash at the end of the day. He got loose. I went after him. He led me halfway across town before I finally caught him again. And when I got back to the shelter—guess what? Everyone was gone, including you.”
&nb
sp; “You’ve been waiting here with him all that time?”
“No. Unfortunately, I took him home with me.”
Matt glanced down at Rambo, who danced brainlessly at the end of the makeshift leash. “Hope you’ve got a big backyard.”
“I don’t have any backyard! I live in an apartment—a beautifully restored 1930s apartment with arched doorways and plaster walls and wood floors and stained glass—” Kay’s fists tightened at her sides, and he thought for a moment she truly intended to use them. “He got me evicted. That monster got me evicted from my apartment!”
“Evicted?” Matt cringed at the image that came to mind—piles of rubble and settling dust, with Rambo cavorting in the aftermath. “What happened?”
Kay’s eyes narrowed with fury. “He broke a vase.”
“A vase?” Matt had expected something a little more structurally undermining. “That’s it?”
“Oh, it wasn’t just any old vase. It belonged to my landlady. It sat on a little mahogany table in the entry hall. Mrs. Dalton’s Great-Aunt Helen shipped it to the States during the London Blitz of World War Two so it wouldn’t get broken. Did you hear that, Matt? So it wouldn’t get broken/”
“Still, it’s just one vase—”
“One eight-hundred-dollar vase!”
Matt winced. “Oh, boy.”
“I know what it’s worth because Mrs. Dalton told me. Repeatedly. With tears in her eyes. You’d think it held her dead husband’s ashes or something, the way she was going on. I’m already way behind on my rent, and with the eight hundred—” She paused, and for a moment Matt thought she was going to cry. “Mrs. Dalton suggested that perhaps it would be best if I moved out.”
A fifty-dollar donation, and now this. Matt’s evening was complete.
“And I had no idea where you were or when you’d be back,” Kay went on. “For all I knew you had a date—” she paused and eyed him speculatively “—and you weren’t planning on coming home at all.”
