Puppy Love for the Veterinarian

by Amy Woods

  Placing a palm behind her ear, June tried to zero in on what it was—a kitten, maybe? Something small and helpless and lost? Again, she pleaded that it wouldn’t be a baby. The thought of someone leaving a little one behind their restaurant, especially in this weather, was just...unthinkable.

  There it was again, and now she was certain it was some sort of cry. Rolling her eyes upward in a silent prayer, she braced herself and started off in the direction of the noise, continuing as it became louder and louder, which meant she must be close. She was halfway down the alley, almost to the street, when she reached it, hidden in a dark corner behind another garbage bin.

  Shining her flashlight into the shadows, June gasped, cold air filling her lungs and what felt like the rest of her body. The hand that wasn’t holding her phone flew to her mouth as she looked into two pairs of big, brown eyes.

  Big, brown...puppy eyes.

  The squeaking, she now realized, was the heart-wrenching sound of tiny little canine yips, probably calling for their mother.

  There, cuddled together in a heap of trash behind another store’s Dumpster, were two itty-bitty bodies coated in black fur, with eight little white, black-spotted boots. But their tiny faces were the clincher. June’s eyes filled with moisture, not from the biting air, as she stared at two pairs of fuzzy black ears, each separated down the middle by a thin line of white fur that traced down into identical white muzzles.

  For a full minute, June remained frozen in place, her instinct telling her to rush forward and gather the pups in her arms to warm them up, but she wasn’t yet positive on what was the right thing to do.

  On the one hand, the temperatures had probably dropped to below freezing when the sun had disappeared—at least, it sure felt that way—but on the other, well, what if the puppies’ mother returned, looking for them? What if she was around there somewhere and returned to find them gone? But the more pressing question was, of course—what if she didn’t? The little ones couldn’t have been out there for too long; otherwise they’d be...

  No, she didn’t want to think about that. Yet...that would certainly be the outcome if she didn’t get the little dogs out of the cold, and quick. She could always check the alley the next day and put up flyers to find out if anyone had seen a female dog wandering around the strip mall or a suspicious person dropping off a little bundle. But for now, if she didn’t get them out of the increasingly cold night air—and the snow that seemed to be falling faster and thicker each minute—they would surely freeze to death. Not much of a choice there.

  Having made up her mind, June hurried forward and opened her coat, then picked up the puppies very gently and with extreme care, and tucked them into the front pouch of her Peach Leaf Pizza sweatshirt. She wrapped her coat across her middle, leaving it unfastened so they could breathe, and, head down, turned the corner out of the alley.

  The wind was much fiercer without the protection of the buildings, and the several yards to her car seemed more like miles as June trudged through the now-blinding wind and snow in the direction of the front parking lot. Finally, she reached her car and pulled her keys from her purse to unlock the doors. Opening the trunk, she retrieved her gym bag and slammed down the lid, sliding into the backseat as quickly as possible. She pulled the door shut—no easy feat against the wind—and took a deep breath before unzipping the bag. She took out her jogging clothes and shoes, leaving her towel to make a sort of nest. Opening her coat, she removed the little balls of fluff and placed them carefully inside, close against each other for warmth.

  “There,” she said. “You guys hang on tight. We’re going for help.”

  Satisfied with the answering squeaks, June pulled a seat belt around the bag and fastened it, hoping it would do, and then crawled into the front seat. Thankfully, her old car started after just a couple of tries, and she was able to pull out of the parking lot.

  Snow fell in sheets as she made her way onto the main road with her blinkers on full blast, sifting through her memory for any winter-weather driving advice Margaret might have offered over the years, sorry that she hadn’t listened more closely.

  Wrapping the fore-and middle fingers of her left hand together for luck as she gripped the wheel with white knuckles, June set off to the only place she could think of that might be able to help her with two very fresh puppies.

  Chapter Two

  Ethan Singh cursed before his father’s absurdly messy monster of a desk. One of these days, he promised himself for the hundredth time, he would have to suck it up and organize the damn thing. One of these days.

  But not today. Or tonight, he supposed, strolling from the office and past the empty receptionist’s desk to glance out the front window of his father’s veterinary clinic, only mildly surprised to find a dark sky staring back. It was almost a relief to know that, as soon as he arrived at his parents’ home and ate a quick dinner, it would be past time to head straight to bed.

  Straight to bed meant no time to think about what he was doing in Peach Leaf, Texas, for the winter, and more importantly, what he would do when the season was over and it was time to head back to campus in Colorado, where he was scheduled to teach several veterinary classes over the spring semester.

  Ethan gave his head a little shake and turned back from the window. It wouldn’t do to ruminate on that now. The whole point in coming here, agreeing to run Dad’s clinic while his parents took a one-month, long-overdue vacation to visit his father’s brother in Washington, DC, was to not think about what happened in Alaska. Ethan sat down in the receptionist’s seat and put his head in his hands. How could he not think about it? How could he not think about her—about what she’d done to break his heart into a thousand tiny shreds?

  It was impossible.

  He had looked forward to that research trip with great enthusiasm, knowing he’d get to spend every day with Jessica Fields, the incredibly intelligent and physically stunning colleague he’d been dating for a couple of weeks, following her recent arrival at his department at the university. And he’d gotten everything he wanted. Their time in northernmost Alaska, a place he’d learned both to love and respect for its extreme beauty and danger, had been absolutely perfect. The team’s research on the impact of climate change and infectious disease in polar bears advanced far beyond what they’d initially anticipated, and so had his relationship with Jessica.

  It wasn’t until their final day that she’d begun to show signs of unease that any scientist worth his salt would have noticed. When he’d leaned in to kiss her on the flight back to Colorado, an action that at that point in their time together had become commonplace, Jessica had pulled away, and he confronted her.

  She wasn’t single, she said, her eyes full of regret but not, he’d noted sadly, remorse. She was engaged to marry her college sweetheart and had no plans to break it off on account of what she called a “fling.” She had led him on, she said.

  Well, on that point he certainly would not argue. Sleeping with him, telling him she loved him, making plans with him...yes, he’d say she was damn right that she’d led him on. Ethan had immediately requested an alternative seat on the airplane, enduring the remainder of the flight with a clenched jaw, knotted stomach and the blinding urge to scream at the woman who had, in the space of a few months, turned his life upside down, and then quickly and heartlessly destroyed him.

  The department head, though confused at his hasty, fictional explanation, had granted Ethan’s request for a short sabbatical, a semester off. Ethan hadn’t taken a vacation since accepting the position five years before, and he supposed he was due a break. Though it hurt, not to get started right away on compiling and writing up the Alaskan data for conference presentations. He would never forget the way his breath had caught and his heartbeat raced as he’d knelt next to one of those regal bears to take a blood sample before the tranquilizer wore off. They were the most beautiful creat
ures he’d ever seen; they deserved saving and he would spend the rest of his life working to do just that.

  He pushed out a breath, lifting his head to stare out the window once more as he listened to wind that had begun to swirl and howl. For now, he needed time—even just a few months—to figure out how to go back to the university and face Jessica, who had made it clear she had no plans to leave the team, despite what she’d done to him. He needed to come to terms with the fact that the only woman he’d ever fallen for was getting married to someone else and, worst of all, didn’t seem to give a single damn what it would do to him.

  In the meantime, he had the clinic, and over the past two weeks, he had to admit, he’d become fond of the locals and their beloved pets, and even of his house calls to care for a few horses and cattle on nearby ranches. He’d always loved the research part of being a veterinary pathologist, but this...this change of pace and reminder of where his career had begun, was nice, too, at least for now.

  Ethan’s head jerked up at the sound of raucous banging. It took him a minute to realize that it was coming from the front door, which he’d locked an hour ago after closing. Who on earth could be knocking—no, pounding—on the door now? Ethan knew that his father occasionally extended his workday beyond its normal twelve hours when a special circumstance arose, but no one had called to say they’d be coming in late or anything of the like.

  He got up from the chair quickly, leaving it swiveling as he paced to the door. Whoever stood on the front stoop wasn’t visible from the window he’d been looking out before, and the blinds were pulled down on the other side to cover the spot where the sun hit in late afternoon; he’d have to get much closer and peer through them to identify his visitor.

  Ethan rolled his eyes. Yes, it was his duty to help out the local animal population in any way he could, but the day had already been particularly trying—several regular exams on top of two challenging, back-to-back house calls—and he practically ached to warm up a frozen meal, shower away the fur and jump into the cozy bed in his parents’ guest room.

  When he got to the door, he slid a finger between two blinds and peered out, but the snow was quite thick now, surprisingly so, and the visitor so bundled up that he couldn’t make out anything other than the bright crimson of a coat and matching hat. He didn’t even see any animals. But the wind was so fierce, and the snow falling in such a thick blanket, that he was compelled to open the door and let the poor person in, reminding himself that this was Peach Leaf, therefore generally void of a large city’s potential threats.

  Bracing himself, Ethan unlocked and pulled open the door, breath rushing from his lungs as the icy air hit. A tall figure rushed forward, nearly pummeling him to get inside the building, and for a second he regretted his decision to be kind.

  “Oh, thank you,” came a voice, definitely a woman’s, from somewhere in the depths of the coat and beanie. Ethan closed the door behind her.

  “Thank you so, so much for letting me in. I thought there might not be anyone here this late and I was about to turn around and go back to my car, but...”

  “Whoa, there. Hang on just a minute. Let’s start at the beginning. How does that sound?” He clasped his hands in front of his abdomen and gave her some space.

  The woman stopped speaking and pulled up her hat, which had fallen down into her face, nearly covering what he now saw were large, green—a very lovely green, in fact—eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing out a puff of air. She reached out a gloved hand in Ethan’s direction and he took it, startled to discover how cold it was.

  She must be absolutely frozen from head to toe. He’d checked the thermometer that afternoon and, even before the sun had gone down, the temperature was below freezing. If he hadn’t let her in, she might have been in real trouble. His semester in Alaska had taught him plenty about the dangers of extreme cold, and even though they were in Texas, which was generally mild, the hazards were the same if one wasn’t careful. It didn’t matter that the weather was out of the norm; it simply was, and therefore caution would need to be observed.

  He hadn’t anticipated things getting so bad, and hadn’t much of a chance to pay attention to the forecast other than his brief check on the internet as he’d scarfed down a sandwich earlier, but now he could see plainly that the winter storm the meteorologists predicted had escalated quickly.

  The woman pumped his hand up and down a few times before letting it go. “I’m June. June Leavy. I came by on the slim chance that Dr. Singh might still be here this late, and, well, I didn’t really know what else to do.”

  “I’m Dr. Singh,” Ethan said, doing his best to offer a warm smile despite feeling anything but.

  The woman—June—narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to study him, chuckling softly. “Wow, Dr. Singh, I have to say, you look like you’ve stumbled upon the elusive fountain of youth.”

  Ethan had to laugh at that. Most folks, unless their pets were ill or aging, only came in for annual checkups and vaccinations. It made sense that the senior Dr. Singh would not have had a chance to inform all clients of his winter vacation plans.

  “No, I mean, I am Dr. Singh, but perhaps not the one you’d hoped to find. I’m his son Ethan.”

  June’s face visibly relaxed as realization hit and she nodded, then proceeded to remove her gloves and hat. As she grasped her lapels and moved to take off her coat, Ethan noticed the bit of roundness at her middle and the thought crossed his mind that she might be pregnant. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said, taking her coat.

  He couldn’t help but catch the subtle, sweet scent of her hair as he pulled the red fabric from her shoulders. Like melon, he thought. Odd that he should even notice. Odder still he should notice that it tumbled down her shoulders in soft, auburn waves, framing a face, he could see after he’d turned back from hanging her coat on an iron rack near the door, that was rosy from the cold and, well, quite lovely.

  June smiled, and it occurred to Ethan that she was aptly named. Her skin was as bright as sunshine and the curve of her wide mouth heated his insides, head to toe. Her eyes were lively and warm like summer, although...her smile didn’t quite reach them.

  Not that he cared, though. Pure observation—like you’d get from any good scientist.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Now, as I was saying, I drove here on my way home from work and my car broke down about, well, I don’t really know how far away, but it sure seemed like a long distance.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as if willing calm. “Anyway, I’m here now and you’re here, thank goodness.”

  Ethan must have looked confused, and that would make sense because he definitely was. He was glad to help if she was stranded. Perhaps he could call a tow truck for her and let her stay to wait out the storm, but other than that, he wasn’t at all sure why she’d been headed this way in the first place.

  When she stopped speaking, he took the chance to ask, “Is there something I can do to help you, Miss Leavy?”

  “Actually, yes, there is. At least, I hope so.”

  His heart seemed to speed up as she bit her bottom lip and reached into the pocket of her sweatshirt with both hands. Not that he thought she would pull out a weapon, per se, but because he knew instinctively that nothing she might reveal would be easy to deal with. And what he wanted at that moment, and more than that, for his life in general right then, was just that—simplicity.

  But that was simply not in the cards.

  So when June Leavy pulled two shivering black-and-white puppies out of her pocket and held them out to show him why she’d driven to his office, walked an unknown distance in a freak snowstorm and nearly pounded down the door, all Ethan Singh could do was sigh.

  Chapter Three

  As June stared at the junior Dr. Singh awaiting a response, the skin between his brows bunched into a frown over eyes that were cool and impas
sable, despite what she’d just revealed, making it impossible to determine what he thought of her unannounced arrival on his doorstep. Or rather, their arrival.

  She knew it was late, that it would be an inconvenience to stop in without even a phone call when the veterinary office had closed over an hour before, but she didn’t know what else to do with the two little bundles. She didn’t know this man—Ethan, he’d said—but she knew his father, a kind, attentive doctor whose smiles could soothe even the saddest of children when their pets were sick, and for now, that was enough to give her hope that maybe that man’s son wouldn’t turn her, or her little charges, away on such an awful night.

  June hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until he reached out both hands to take the puppies from her. Letting the air slowly from her lungs, she watched as he tucked them under his arms the same way she had when she’d discovered them in the alley.

  “We need to get them warmed up,” he said, getting right to business. Ethan turned from where they still stood near the door and lifted a shoulder to motion for her to follow as he headed toward the examination rooms.

  June had been in this office many times when her beloved cat reached his twilight years. Being there again caused memories to resurface that she hadn’t prepared for when she’d made the impulsive decision to stop in, hoping someone would be there to save two little lives. Trailing behind the doctor, she focused instead on the waves of dark hair that just brushed the collar of his white coat and the broad span of his shoulders. Something about the look of him—the stormy but not unkind dark eyes, the beautiful shade of his skin, like black tea with a bit of milk stirred in, and his height, which had to be considerable to reach well over her own six feet—worked to unravel the tight ball that had formed in her belly.