by Liz Stafford
“No, you’d better not. I don’t know how long this will take.”
She rushed into the building, gave her name at the desk and was ushered quickly into an examination room. It wasn’t long before the situation was remedied. The egg was dislodged and the bird, though still stressed and lying on the cage floor, was obviously feeling better. Even so, Fiona’s stress level was through the roof. She supposed, after a hot bath and double-size martini, her heartbeat would return to normal. Hopefully.
Fiona had the receptionist phone for a cab and sat in the waiting area, alternating between watching for the taxi and enjoying the other animals in carriers or on leashes. She was the only one with a bird. Wait! Hadn’t Devon said he worked at a clinic? Yes, but he was a janitor. Janitors didn’t usually show themselves in the front of the place—at least none she’d ever seen. So, she watched and every time a door to the back opened, she squinted trying to see if he was there.
Squinting through doorways was no way to be proactive. If Devon was here—if they had ever heard of him—she wouldn’t find out by peering into places she didn’t belong. Fiona rose and went to the desk.
“Hi. I wonder if…do you have someone working here by the name of Devon Ainslee?”
The blonde receptionist wearing a pink smock with puppies imprinted on it frowned.
“He’s a janitor,” Fiona added.
“I am new here. I don’t know the staff who work out back. Lemme find somebody who can help.” She turned away. It took several minutes to locate someone who wasn’t busy. Fiona spent the time racing to the front door to make sure the cab hadn’t arrived. Finally, a man dressed in blue and looking quite harried, came to the desk. Fiona repeated the question about Devon. He gave the same frown as the receptionist and began to shake his head. That’s when all hell, as they say, broke loose.
A woman burst through the front door carrying a small dog and trailing blood on the otherwise immaculate floor. Every employee rushed to her aid. Fiona was left standing by herself, except for a few startled clients, in the foyer.
A double beep sounded from out front. Her cab had arrived. Oh well. He probably didn’t work here anyway. Besides, neither employee appeared to recognize Devon’s name. She walked dejectedly to the cab, a bit confused at her emotions because things with the bird had turned out favorably. Sure, she’d lost the egg, but there would be more.
Chapter Five
Devon gathered together the edges of the wastebasket liner and pulled. Suction kept it from releasing easily but Devon wasn’t in a hurry. He spent the ensuing seconds watching a couple of robins hop on the freshly mown lawn behind the clinic. Finally the bag slid from the wastebasket. He tied a knot and hefted in over the edge of the dumpster. It made a hollow thump atop the others he’d brought earlier. Seemed like there was a never-ending supply of trash. He grabbed the wastebasket with one hand and his cane with the other and started for the back door. A cab stood out front. The driver was holding the door for a woman holding a small bird cage. The lady wasn’t familiar, at least not in the way most people identify someone. He didn’t know the hair or the clothes. But he knew the way she moved.
Could it be?
Devon dropped the wastebasket and hobbled as fast as a person with a bum leg can, over two hundred feet of grass tufts and dog turds, both hard and soft.
The cabbie shut the door. Devon called out.
The cabbie glanced his way—probably saw a disheveled madman chasing after him. He raced around and got in the car.
Devon called again, stopped and waved the cane. Hobbled closer without it. Twenty feet. That was all that separated him from knowing.
He wiggled the cane in the air. Devon flung himself ahead six more steps without the cane. Less than ten feet. Hurry. “Stop!”
The cabbie peered sideways. Devon took another step. And fell flat on his face.
The cabbie flashed him the bird and gunned the engine. The taxi roared out of sight.
Devon flew to his feet. He’d later wonder how he managed to move so fast. But he was up and running. Tonya was just exiting the building. He snatched the keys from her hand and glanced frantically for her car.
He only fell once on the way to the Chevy Blazer. It started on command and roared, though at a much smaller decibel than the cab, out of the driveway. The taxi had turned left, but that was all Devon knew. It had disappeared from sight. He alternated between cursing, pounding the steering wheel and weaving around traffic. That led to more cursing, mostly from the other drivers, and a lot of horn blasts. The taxi had gone this way, he was sure. Trouble was, by now it had blended into the sea of identical cabs. So now, along with avoiding crashes he had to peer into the backseats of vehicles.
After twenty minutes, he gave up. Trying to return to football after the injury had been a mistake. Chasing the Fiona pipedream was a mistake also.
Chapter Six
Devon made his way back to the clinic where, unbelievably, Tonya still stood on the edge of the driveway. He got out and, wordless, handed the keys to his boss, located his cane and the wastebasket and shuffled back inside.
He finished out the shift. By now the clinic was closed; everyone had gone home. Devon jingled the keys as he made sure each door was locked and the alarm was set. The cab, prearranged to arrive at the end of each shift, sat out front. He’d just pulled open the door when it struck him. Damn! How stupid could he be?
Devon asked the cabbie to wait and made his way back inside. He fumbled with the register, flipping pages to find her name. First name Fiona. Last name unknown because he hadn’t expected her to run out on him that night.
Probably she didn’t want to see him and that’s why she ran off. He could face that—would face it if he heard the words direct from her mouth. But no Fiona with any last name was in the book. It only said emergency bird. He sighed—it had been too good to be true anyway—and left.
Devon climbed into the cab and settled back as the vehicle raced off. Why did they all drive like NASCAR racers? He closed his eyes, then flashed them open. He bent forward and retrieved a small green object from the floor.
Chapter Seven
The bird seemed thrilled to be home. Her mate nuzzled her face and sat on the perch above her. Fiona placed a small container of food and water on the bottom of the cage to make it easier for her to eat. She then made a large martini and settled on a stool beside the cage, watching to make sure the bird was all right. Not until it had pecked at a few seeds was she able to relax. Well, the alcohol helped.
The ringing of the doorbell startled her and she fell off the stool. It rang a second time before she’d gotten up. And a third time after she stubbed two toes on the coffee table.
Fiona nearly passed out seeing Devon silhouetted in the doorway. No preliminaries, apologies or explanations were needed. They fell into each others’ arms. Discarded clothing rained down like confetti. She yanked him to the hallway floor, lips seeking, hands groping, legs twining. Flesh met flesh. Tongues explored. Body liquids meshed.
Consummation occurred quickly. Too quickly, but there would be other times. Many others.
LIZ
Thank you for reading. To read other books in the Tender Hearts Veterinary Clinic series, check out:
The Great Dane (Jannick and Rianna)
An American Bulldog (Taryn and Dolf)
The Long Haired Persian (Tonya and Gaspar)
The Bearded Dragon (Wanda and Carlton)
The Masked Lovebird (Devon and Fiona)
Damsel in Distress (Carmen and Shawn)
Liz Stafford
Liz Stafford is new to the world of short stories—and loving it. Being a pet lover and ex-dachshund breeder, introducing a clinic full of pets seemed only right, and natural. Adding men made it even more so…
Email Liz at: [email protected]
Table of Contents
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
> Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Liz Stafford
