Matty thanked her and they all rose. A few minutes later she was alone again in her kitchen. Her mind floated to the crazy things Vivi had said about Dash. The more she thought about it, the more she felt he was simply overreacting. She didn’t believe in love at first sight or soul mates or anything like that, and she’d have to if she were going to be a part of whatever was going on in his head. So, as far as she was concerned, he should just chill about the whole thing. And she could make that easier for him by avoiding him in what was left of her time here in the Hudson Valley. And what better way to avoid him than to do what she came here to do.
Feeling pretty good about herself, she took a deep breath, headed back into the office, and tackled her story like a linebacker.
CHAPTER 7
AFTER AN EXTREMELY PRODUCTIVE DAY of writing and a not so productive night of sleeping, Matty stood on the front patio with her morning coffee. She’d already taken care of the whole menagerie of animals—late, once again—and then spent some time rereading what she’d written the night before. Taking a few minutes to enjoying the late-morning breeze that had moved in to cool things down a bit, she was allowing herself a short break, letting the words she’d written sink in and swirl around in her brain.
She liked the way the story was shaping up, but there was something missing in the relationship between the two main characters—a young, but politically savvy, attaché and a rogue former member of embassy security. She didn’t write sex into her books, but she did like to have a backstory in her head that included it. At the end of her books, her readers liked to know that, even if there wasn’t a relationship during the story, there was a possibility of one at the end. It was a lesson she’d learned early in her career and one she’d taken to heart. And because she liked the idea of happy endings too, it wasn’t hard to leave that option open to interpretation. But she didn’t have that backstory for these two characters yet, and it was bugging her.
Somewhere off to her left, she heard the sound of a lawn mower starting. She hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Brad’s neighbor yet, so, out of curiosity and in a not-so-subtle attempt to put off the nagging question of her characters, she turned her gaze toward what she could see of the lawn next door. The sound of the motor altered, depending on whether it was going uphill or down, or at least that’s what Matty imagined accounted for the change in tone. And after a few minutes, when a stronger breeze blew through, it carried the sweet scent of freshly cut grass. Several more minutes passed before she finally saw the riding mower come into view.
Matty straightened off the post she’d been leaning against and stared. She even rubbed her eyes and looked again. Because, from where she was standing, it looked as though an older woman was riding the lawn mower completely naked.
She took several steps toward the neighbor’s lawn, as if getting a few feet closer would clear up the matter. It didn’t. Not until the mower turned, causing the sun to catch the rider in a different light, and she saw the shadow of a bathing suit strap. Matty smiled. Her neighbor wasn’t naked, she was wearing a nude-colored bathing suit. And she looked to be about eighty if she was a day.
Character, Matty thought. She liked seeing people with character. And she liked meeting them even more, so she took a few purposeful steps in the older woman’s direction. But she’d only gone about ten feet when a piercing howl froze her in place. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Rufus and Roger raising their heads from where they’d been lying lazily on the patio nearby; Isis was immediately at her feet. When a second howl came echoing down the hill a few seconds later, Lucy came bounding around the other side of the house to investigate.
Matty looked around, realizing that Bob was missing just as a third howl came to a crescendo. Suddenly, the yellow Lab came tearing down the hill toward the house, running with his tail tucked between his hind legs and going as fast as he could on three legs—he kept his right front paw held high, only occasionally letting it touch the ground and emitting a yelp every time it did. She stared in horror as Bob came barreling toward her and she saw the blood pouring from his injured foot. Dimly, she was aware of the lawn mower engine going off, but her eyes were fixed on Bob as he made a beeline for the safety of the house.
She met him at the edge of the patio and reached down to grab his collar. She meant to soothe him, steady him, but she only succeeded in frightening him. He turned and snapped at her, nipping her in the arm. She jerked back with a cry of surprise and pain, and Bob, perhaps realizing what he’d done, became even more frantic, backing himself into a corner and whimpering.
“Once we get him taken care of, you’re going to need to see a doctor about that arm.”
Matty whipped around at the voice behind her and found Brad’s neighbor not four feet away. The authoritative tone in her voice brokered no argument despite the fact she stood there in her beige bathing suit and flip-flops and weighed in at about ninety pounds, max.
“I’ll get to that, but right now I’m more worried about him,” Matty answered.
“Do you have keys to that big truck?” the neighbor asked.
“I do, hanging on the door just inside the house,” she responded. As promised, Ian had had the truck delivered, clean and all, the night before. She hadn’t moved it back into the garage, even though she had no intention of driving it again.
“You work on calming him down and getting something around that foot. I’ll back the truck up and, once he’s feeling a bit more reasonable, we’ll load him up and take him to Dr. Hubba Hubba.”
Matty’s brows went up. “Dr. Hubba Hubba?”
“Dash Kent, the vet,” the woman said, already striding to the door.
Matty let out a little huff of a laugh; it was actually a perfect name for him. But her attention came back to Bob when he sank to the ground, whimpered, and began trying to lick his bleeding paw. She hadn’t ever dealt with such an injured animal, but going on instinct, she lowered her voice and talked to him in as reassuring a tone as she could manage. Inch by inch, she made her way closer until she was able to touch his head. And when he looked at her with his big, brown eyes, filled with confusion and pain, she knew she was going to have to make it all better for him as soon as possible.
When she felt pretty sure he wasn’t going to snap at her again, she removed the oxford shirt she’d slipped on over her tank top, kept one hand on Bob’s head to soothe him, and very gently reached for his paw. When he didn’t panic or retreat further, she slowly wrapped her shirt around the paw and applied a firm but gentle pressure, as she would with a human. She didn’t know if that was the right thing to do for a dog, but it was all she knew.
“Do you think he’s ready?” the neighbor asked, having backed the truck up and let the tailgate down just a few steps away.
“He can’t get in there on his own,” Matty pointed out.
“Of course not. You’re going to have to carry him,” the petite old woman in the bathing suit replied.
Matty stared at Bob for a heartbeat, wondering if she could lift a sixty-five pound injured Lab, but quickly realized that, since she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, she’d better get moving. She wiggled next to him, got her arms underneath his body, and stood, lifting them both up. The neighbor stayed beside her, helping to keep her steady while being careful not to interfere.
Together they made it to the bed of the truck and Matty laid Bob down. She made to close the tailgate, but when Bob started pulling at the makeshift wrap on his foot, she knew it wasn’t going to work.
“How do you feel about chauffeuring us to the vet?” she asked the neighbor. “I’m Matty Brooks, by the way,” she added.
“I’m Elise Rutherford, and I had already planned on it. I’ve locked up the house so we should be good to go.”
“You okay driving such a big truck?” Matty asked, even as she climbed in and secured Bob in her lap in such a way that she could keep her hand wrapped around his injury.
“I’ve been driving trucks since I was
twelve, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Elise said, closing the tailgate.
A few seconds later, they were on their way to Dash’s office. So much for avoiding him, but then again, she wondered if he would even be there. He seemed to be out on calls a lot, maybe his clinic was staffed with other vets.
Of course it wasn’t.
Elise pulled up behind the clinic like she’d been there a hundred times, told Matty to wait, and disappeared inside. Less than two minutes later she reappeared with Dash and a young woman. Both were dutifully trailing behind Elise.
Dash’s eyes sought hers and his stride lengthened until he stopped at the tailgate. “We need to get that washed and looked at, Matty,” he said with a gesture to her bleeding arm as he let the back of the truck down.
“I know, Dash. But right now I’m more worried about Bob,” she shot back. Bob, who had crawled as far into her lap as he could get, looked up at her and whined. Dash’s eyes held hers and she could see his jaw ticking. In annoyance, fear, or frustration, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to wait to find out.
“Dash, he’s bled through my shirt, please,” she pleaded.
Dash took in a quick breath then let it out and leaned forward. Scooping Bob up as if he weighed next to nothing, he took the dog from her grip.
“Follow me,” he ordered.
“I’ll call a friend to come get me. Your keys are in the ignition,” Elise said as Matty followed behind Dash. She didn’t have much time to do anything other than murmur a quick thank you before Dash motioned her inside the back door of the clinic and into what looked like a supply room.
“Susan,” he said, addressing the woman who’d come outside with him. “Make sure Ms. Brooks cleans that wound and then you can dress it while she makes an appointment to have it looked at.”
“I’m not going to the doctor, Dash. They’ll have to report it and I don’t want to get Bob in trouble.”
Dash paused and looked at her. “Of course you’re going to the doctor. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Dash,” she warned.
He took another deep breath, no doubt asking for patience, but it hadn’t been Bob’s fault she’d been bitten and she knew enough to know dog bites generally had to be reported.
“I’ll call Dr. Sanger when I’m done taking care of Bob. I’ll tell her what happened and she’ll take care of you without reporting it.”
“Promise?”
He gave her a look. “Yes, I promise. Now go take care of that arm. Susan, I’ll be in exam two when you have a chance and I’ll need some sedative to get started.”
Dash didn’t wait to see the woman nod before he turned and walked through a door that looked like it led to the back halls of the clinic. When they were alone, Matty looked to Susan, who was wearing an interesting expression.
Before the assistant had a chance to say anything, Matty said, “You can point me to the washroom.”
Susan opened her mouth, then shut it, and nodded. “This way,” she said, gesturing with her hand toward the hall.
A few minutes later, Matty was elbow deep in antiseptic hand wash, scrubbing away for the prescribed ten minutes in the washroom. She’d had to promise Susan that she would stay for the full ten minutes in order for the assistant to feel comfortable enough to leave and bring Dash the sedative he’d asked for. And, like a good girl, she was still scrubbing when Susan returned with a small first aid kit.
“How’s Bob?” Matty asked, starting to rinse the soap from her arms.
“He’s probably asleep by now,” Susan replied, handing her a towel. “What happened?” she asked.
“I’m not really sure,” Matty said. “He just came tearing down the hill, bleeding all over the place. I wrapped his paw up but didn’t really get a good look at what happened.”
“Well, Dr. Kent will take good care of him,” Susan said, adding antibiotic cream to some gauze and placing it over the bite on Matty’s arm.
Matty didn’t doubt he would, so said nothing as she watched Dash’s assistant bandage her arm. When she was done, Susan told her she could have a seat in the waiting room, or if she preferred, there was a bench out back. She opted for the waiting room and left Susan to assist Dash in doing whatever he needed to do to help Bob.
As she sat opposite a well-coiffed woman holding her petite white fluff ball of a dog, awareness of just how dirty she was slowly seeped into Matty’s consciousness. There was blood on her white tank top and khaki linen shorts. Bob’s blond fur clung to her clothes, the dirt he’d had on him seemed to have transferred to her, and there were splotches of mud on her thighs—there was even one across her shoulder, though how it got there she had no idea. The woman seated across from her was staring, but at least she looked more concerned than horrified.
Over forty minutes passed before Dash opened the door to the waiting room. Matty didn’t miss the way the, now two, other women in the waiting room sat up when he came in. They’d been offered rescheduled appointments due to the emergency, but both had opted to wait. And she now knew why. If she hadn’t been so worried about Bob, she would have laughed at their eagerness to see Dr. Hubba Hubba.
“Matty,” he said.
She said nothing but stood and followed him into his office.
“How’s Bob?” she asked when he shut the door behind her.
“He’s fine,” Dash answered, taking her arm in his hand. He had already removed the tape from the bandage before she realized what he was doing. She yanked her arm back. Not missing a beat, he reached for it again and continued to unwrap the material.
“Bob had his toe taken off,” Dash said, appeasing her need to know even as he continued what he was doing. “I’m not sure what did it. Normally, I would say it was bitten off.” He held her arm up and examined it, turning it at different angles. Gently, he prodded the skin around the punctures. His eyes shot up to meet hers when she let out a little hiss.
“A couple of over the counter pain meds and I’ll be fine,” she said, moving to take her arm back.
He rewrapped it then moved behind his desk. “Here,” he said, handing her a piece of paper. “Dr. Sanger’s number and address. She’s expecting you in twenty minutes.”
Matty frowned but took the paper. Part of her wanted to protest, but another part of her knew how helpful it really was to be hooked up to a local doctor for a non-emergency appointment; most doctors preferred to spend their time with repeat patients.
“Tell me about Bob,” she said, sitting down.
“Like I said, normally I would say an animal bit it off. But whatever separated his toe from his foot probably wasn’t teeth, the wound was too clean.”
“What else would do that? And which toe?”
“The first toe and a knife would do it, but it was probably either an old trap or maybe even some glass?” he answered. She didn’t like the hint of doubt she heard in his voice.
“You don’t sound certain.”
He shrugged. “We may never know what did it, but it’s a good thing it was clean since it made it easier to stitch.”
“Does that mean I get to take him home with me?”
Dash shook his head. “We don’t know what did it, so I’m running some blood tests. I have him on antibiotics, but I want to check for a few other things, too. And I’ll want to run the tests again in twenty-four hours.”
“Can’t I bring him back in?”
“I’d rather keep him here since he’s still groggy from the sedative.”
Matty felt like she was abandoning Bob, but what else could she do? She knew Dash’s reasoning made sense, but she also knew he wouldn’t be above keeping Bob if he thought she would spend her time taking care of the injured dog rather than taking care of herself.
“Fine,” she said, sounding every bit as disgruntled as she felt.
A small smile touched Dash’s lips. “You’ll take care of that?” he asked, gesturing with his head to her arm.
“I said I would.”
“Pr
omise?” he repeated her earlier demand.
“Yes,” she grumbled as they stood. Dash rounded the desk and came to her side. He meant to usher her out, she had no doubt, and she should have gone with it. After all, she was only in Windsor to take care of the animals and write. Flirting with the locals, especially one that unsettled her as much as Dash, wasn’t in the cards. But as she took one last look at him with his strictly business attitude, her inner imp, goaded by guilt-induced frustration, decided to make an appearance. She turned toward him, bringing them inches apart, and put her hand on his chest. She felt his skin jump beneath her touch.
“I heard about your little family curse, Dash,” she said, looking up at him.
He looked down at her hand resting against his shirt and said nothing.
“If you ask me, it’s crazy,” she added.
His head tilted and his eyes met her gaze. “Maybe.”
“What if it is? Crazy, that is,” she clarified. Her fingers had inched up and she brushed them against the skin of his neck.
“And what if it isn’t,” he countered.
“Do you want to know what I think?” she asked, leaning into him just enough for her body to brush against his button-down shirt.
He gave a tiny, hesitant nod, as if unsure whether or not he did want to know. Smart man.
She smiled. “I think it doesn’t matter if we think it’s crazy or not, but I’d bet we’d have a hell of time finding out.”
She brushed a fingertip across his lower lip then went up on her toes and replaced her finger with her lips in a soft, barely there kiss. She held his gaze and felt a flood of heat pouring from his body, enveloping her.
She stepped away, point made. “I’ll call tomorrow, about Bob.”
CHAPTER 8
AFTER VISITING DOCTOR SANGER’S OFFICE to have her wound checked and cleaned again, Matty stopped at the car wash to rid the truck of the remnants of Bob’s blood then headed back to Brad’s. She spent the next few hours scrubbing the patio where Bob had huddled with his wound and calming the rest of the dogs who, sensing something was wrong, seemed to keep looking for their missing friend. In their confusion they did nothing but follow her around as if attached to her hip. While she understood, it was more than annoying to be constantly running into Rufus or Roger, or tripping over Lucy every step or two. Isis, in her usual, detached way, sat quietly at the other end of whatever room or space Matty happened to be in and simply watched.
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