by Mara Wells
Still, neither of them moved. He was caught in her gaze as surely as he’d been at eighteen. She was a miracle, this Danielle. She’d always had a big heart and a love for animals, but seeing her so calm and sure, slinging the puppy around with the authority of experience, he’d seen all that promise of her youth come to life. She’d saved that puppy’s life, no matter how much she played it off like it was a normal thing to do. He had some field-medic training, but he wouldn’t have known what to do with a puppy drowning in its own amniotic fluid.
He’d been so caught up in how they used to be, who they used to be, that he hadn’t really stopped to admire who Danielle had become. Sure, he’d noted her curvier curves, had itched to get his fingers on them even. But today he’d seen her in her element, and it broke his heart all over again that she hadn’t finished veterinary school. Hell, she hadn’t even started it. Why not?
Guilt kept him from asking her, but it didn’t stop him from reaching for her. All the restraint of the past few weeks broke, and he circled his fingers around her wrist, tugging gently.
She closed the distance between them willingly, stopping just shy of his body so that he could feel the heat of her through his T-shirt but couldn’t actually feel her. His hand landed on the flare of her hip and slipped around to her lower back, pulling her flush against him.
His whole body sighed. Yes. Much better. Her head nestled in the groove under his clavicle that they’d always joked was made especially for her. Her cheek rested there, and he felt the smile as it crept across her face.
“Some things don’t change.” Danielle’s voice was a low rumble. “I missed this spot.” She turned and kissed his chest through the T-shirt. “I love that it’s still exactly the same shape as my cheek.”
“Made for you,” Knox replied with the same words he’d used a hundred times when they’d been together. He remembered feeling it, too, how much he’d been made for her and she for him. It’d been powerful, and try as he had over the years to chalk it up to adolescent hormones, he couldn’t deny the thunderous possessiveness coursing through his veins right now.
Mine. He didn’t say it aloud, knew that it wasn’t the right time, that it might never be the right time because he’d blown it so utterly with her—then and, in some way he hadn’t figured out yet, now. But he felt it. Mine. The word shivered through him, and he pulled her tighter, hugging both arms around her waist.
She snuggled into him, and he felt the tension leave her body, how she softened against him. Sure, he’d been with other women since Danielle, but no one had ever felt like this in his arms, like she could melt through his skin until they were only one person.
His body was on board with the idea of becoming one person with Danielle. He hardened against her, and she was so close that he knew she could feel it. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he choked out, paralyzed by her words, his hands clenched in the fabric of her shirt. Nice? He wasn’t feeling nice. Ravenous. Crazed. About to rip her clothes right off her. An intensity he hadn’t felt since the last time he was under fire sharpened all his senses. And she said ‘nice’? She was killing him.
He held her, letting his heart thunder under her cheek, his cock swell against her stomach. He held on like he should’ve fifteen years ago but didn’t, like he could crush her into him.
Did he want to kiss her? God, yes. But he was afraid to switch anything about their position for fear she’d step away, shake it off, laugh at how silly they were to let old patterns take over. Insist on that damn word friend again.
A snuffle and high-pitched whine took Danielle away from him. She jerked out of his arms and rushed to the small box where the puppies were. He stayed where he was, arms suddenly empty, his whole body tight with the tension that came right before all hell breaks loose on a mission.
“Are you hungry?” she cooed at them, obviously not as affected by their encounter as he was, and one by one moved them into the whelping box with Flurry.
Hungry? He was starving. For her. He watched her every move, ridiculously turned on by her efficiency. She didn’t waste any movements, handling each puppy with such loving care that he longed for the same attention to be lavished on him.
Ridiculous. He was not jealous of a litter of puppies. He reached down for Sarge’s collar. “This has been—” He cut himself off, not sure where that sentence was going, not sure he could go anywhere until things, well, settled down. There was no delicate way to adjust his crotch so he just did it, glad Danielle’s attention was riveted on the puppies. “I guess we should be on our way.”
“Oh.” Danielle froze, the runt held against her chest. “I have a few things to clean up, and then I was going to make some tea. Would you like to stay for some?”
Knox hated tea. “I’d love to.”
He’d drink a hundred cups of tea to see the smile that lit up her face at his answers. “Great. Can you see if the dogs want to go out?” She jerked her chin in the direction of her front door. “The yard is fenced, so they’ll be fine.”
“Sure.” He forced his heavy feet forward. Sarge and Luna followed him. Flurry lifted her head, then let it plunk down. “I guess Mama’s too tired.”
“Yeah.” Danielle patted Flurry’s side, then rolled her slightly to pick up some dirtied newspapers. “Eight puppies. It’s such a miracle, isn’t it?”
Knox wasn’t the romantic type, but he couldn’t help but think how the puppies weren’t the only miraculous thing in the room right now. He shook his head at his own foolishness and let the dogs out to run around the pool. They could all use some fresh air, him most of all.
When he came back inside ten minutes later, he found Danielle in the kitchen sitting on a spindly chair, her cheek flat against the small bistro table under the window. She was sound asleep. It didn’t look all that comfortable, but he left her there. He might’ve hoped things were going in a different direction, but he wasn’t going to use her exhaustion and adrenaline to his advantage. A puppy high might not be a federally recognized Schedule II drug, but it was a high—and a crash—all the same. If they were going to move past friends, he wanted her wholehearted, enthusiastic consent. Now was not the time to push the whole friendship thing. He turned off the kettle and employed his stealth training to slip out the door.
* * *
Danielle hustled down the narrow veterinary clinic hallway, arms full of freshly laundered towels. At the last door on the left, she used her hip to push open the swinging door into the large boarding area at the back of the clinic. Stainless-steel crates were stacked against three walls, with large dog-sized crates on the bottom, medium-sized in the middle, and small-dog crates at the top of each stack. Right now, only half a dozen dogs were in residence, and one very cranky cat howled from her confinement in a mesh-top playpen in the corner.
“I’m here. I’m here.” Danielle dropped the bundle of towels on the built-in table that skirted the fourth wall before ending in the door that led outside to the exercise runs. “Everybody hold your horses.”
The cat mewled a loud, long protest against any more waiting, so Danielle abandoned her folding duties to squat next to the cage. The cat batted away her proffered finger but then returned a few seconds later to rub her jaw against it.
“Today’s your last day, Pepper. I promise.”
Pepper seemed moderately placated by the promise and a refill on her kibble. In one of the large crates, a chocolate Lab thumped its tail and watched her with hopeful eyes.
“You’re right. Let me get the leashes.” Danielle grabbed four leashes off the hanging rack and opened up the Lab’s crate. He thanked her with a lick up the side of her neck that left her laughing. “You’re such a love, aren’t you?” She continued chatting up a stream of small talk while she gathered the Staffordshire terrier, th
e Rottweiler mix, and the shy Dalmatian for a jaunt outside.
Once they were outside in the warm spring air, she unclipped all the dogs to let them have the run of the outside area. It was no Fur Haven Park, but two large trees on opposite ends of the enclosure provided shade. A squirrel sprinted straight up the trunk of the tree nearest the building, and all four dogs rushed to catch it. They were far too late, but they enjoyed a rousing round of barking and bouncing off the tree in excitement. Even the Dalmatian got in on the fun, sending a few loud yowls in the squirrel’s direction.
After determining that the squirrel was suitably intimidated into not coming back down the tree, the hodgepodge pack turned its attention to sniffing the ground and marking territory. The Dalmatian got nervous and came to sit by Danielle on the bench. She idly rubbed its ears while scrolling through her phone with the other hand.
We need you up front.
The text from Gabi, the high-school senior who volunteered her time at the clinic, interrupted Danielle’s social media flow, which wasn’t the end of the world. The adorable pictures of baby kangaroos at the Australian sanctuary would still be there later. What did alarm her was why she would be specifically requested. Was something wrong with her dad?
She hustled the dogs back inside, locking them inside their crates and distributing a round of treats for all the animals with a sincere “I’ll be back to walk the rest of you as soon as I can” before half walking, half jogging to the front of the clinic.
“My dad?” Danielle grabbed Gabi’s arm, perhaps a bit too strongly, because Gabi pulled away with an alarmed look, shaking her head.
“No. They were asking for you.” Gabi’s nod indicated a trio in the waiting room. Carrie, Knox’s sister-in-law who Danielle saw often at the dog park; her son, Oliver; and an older woman Danielle had seen around but never met.
“Danielle, thank goodness.” Carrie rushed forward as quickly as the startlingly high stilettos she was wearing would let her. She had a small bundle in her arms wrapped in a tea towel. Oliver sucked on his lower lip and held the other woman’s hand. “Riley said you were the person to see. We found this little guy when we were walking Beckham, and we didn’t know what to do.”
Danielle took the warm weight from Carrie and lifted the edge of the towel. Two tiny eyes blinked back at her from a rounded face.
“Hey there.” Danielle stroked a finger down the side of the bird’s brown and white spotted feathers. “Are you an owlet? Yes, you are.” She looked up and met Carrie’s eyes. “A burrowing owl, I think. Owls aren’t my specialty.”
“You already know more than I do.” Carrie flipped long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Something’s wrong with his wing.”
“Will he be okay?” Oliver stepped away from the other woman and frowned worriedly up at Danielle.
“I think so.” Danielle squatted and showed Oliver the tiny owl. “You did the right thing bringing him here. We’ll call the wildlife center and see what they advise.”
Oliver came up on his tiptoes to peer at the bird. “Can I keep him? I promise to take very good care of him.”
Danielle didn’t miss the way Carrie shook her head back and forth in a frantic “no, no, no” gesture.
“We can’t keep wild animals as pets.” Danielle tucked the towel around the bird. “The wildlife center will do what they can, and as soon as it’s safe, he’ll be released.”
Oliver’s frown showed his disappointment, but he nodded. “To find his mama?”
Danielle thought that unlikely. She smiled softly and let Oliver have one last look at the bird he’d helped rescue. “He’ll be happier with other owls.”
“I know.” Oliver brushed a finger over the edge of the towel. “Bye-bye, bird friend.” He watched solemnly as Danielle passed the bird on to Gabi with instructions to take it to the back room.
“You were the right person.” Carrie held out her hand. “I’m not sure you’ve ever formally met the rest of my family. This is my son, Oliver, and my mother, Sherry.”
Danielle smiled at the three of them. “I believe you’re missing one energetic Jack Russell? I’ve seen you all at the dog park.”
“You have the big greyhounds!” Oliver made the connection quickly.
“I do.”
“Can I ride one?”
“No, that would hurt the dogs. But you can watch them run. And I have a new litter of puppies, only three days old. When they’re bigger, would you like to come and play with them?”
Oliver nodded and held his mother’s hand.
“You’re good with kids.” Sherry’s smile was friendly, but Danielle winced. Soon would come the questions about how many she had of her own and the awkwardness while she debated how much to share. She hated how free people felt to pry into what was private and painful personal business. Still, from manicurists to potential dog adopters, she’d learned to field the questions with a smile and vague answer. But Carrie shook her head at her mom, and Sherry didn’t ask.
“What’s this about an owl? What do you think I’m running here, some kind of hoot farm?” Danielle’s dad emerged from the employees-only door, wiping his hands on the front of his white lab coat.
“They found an injured burrowing owl. Gabi’s calling the wildlife center now.” Danielle linked her arm through her dad’s and pulled him into their little circle.
“Good, good.” Dr. Morrow nodded at Carrie. “You’re Gloria’s new relative. Somehow. Step-half-granddaughter or something?”
Carrie laughed. “Something like that. Riley’s my sister-in-law. Or soon to be. You’re coming to the wedding?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“My son, Oliver, and Sherry, my mom.” Carrie handled the introductions, and Danielle watched as her father settled into his usual routine of charming people he’d just met. He was good with animals, but the real secret to his success as a veterinarian was how good he was at putting the humans who accompanied his patients at ease. Even if she had her veterinary degree, Danielle wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to take his place with the patients.
But he froze when he got to Sherry. She was a few inches shorter than Danielle’s dad with a smooth bob of auburn hair and wide, dark eyes that blinked up at him much as the owlet had looked at Danielle.
“I’m Alan. Alan Morrow.” He shook her hand.
“Nice to meet you.”
Then they stood like that, their hands still joined.
Danielle met Carrie’s gaze. Carrie shrugged.
Plenty of women had made eyes at her dad over the years. He was charming, financially stable, even a little bit cute if you liked bald guys and weren’t his daughter, but Danielle had never seen him make eyes back.
“Why don’t you leave your number, and I’ll call you when we have an update on the owl.” Danielle tried to ease the awkwardness with some business.
“Yes, please give me your number.” Dr. Morrow fished his phone out of the front pocket of his lab coat, pushed a few buttons, and handed it to Sherry.
She entered her information and handed it back to him with a shy smile.
“I’ll call you,” he said, pocketing the phone.
“Good,” she said.
“Oh God,” Carrie mumbled loud enough so only Danielle could hear. “Not another wedding.”
Danielle’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
But Carrie just waved and herded her small family out the door. “I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other. Soon.”
Chapter 18
Danielle rubbed her palms together and blew warm breath onto her knuckles. While not technically cold at a few degrees below seventy, the weather had been in the high eighties until yesterday, and the drop in temperature made her think about all the hats and mittens sitting unused in her hallway closet. Across the rooftop expanse, Luna loped in lazy figure eights, apparently run
ning for the sheer joy of it. Danielle didn’t much like running herself, but she never tired of watching greyhounds in action. Swift and elegant, they made running appear effortless and appealing.
Poor Flurry probably missed her morning runs, but with eight puppies less than a week old to keep an eye on, Danielle was hesitant to leave them unattended for too long. Flurry was a good mother and didn’t seem to mind her narrowed world, but once the puppies were more independent, Danielle looked forward to bringing her back to Fur Haven. No other dog could give Luna the workout she longed for.
A ball of fluff barreled at her from the elevator, and Danielle crouched down to greet LouLou.
“Hey there, cutie pie. How’re you feeling today?”
The older dog licked Danielle’s hand in response before taking off to join Luna. She couldn’t keep up but did seem to enjoy the challenge of it.
“Chilly today, isn’t it?” Riley stuffed her hands into the pockets of a fluffy, pink jacket she wore over cutoff jeans and flip-flops.
“Not really, but I wouldn’t mind a cup of hot coffee right now.” Danielle blew on her knuckles in direct contradiction to her words.
Riley grinned and swung a sparkly fuchsia backpack onto the bone-shaped bench. “Lucky you.” She pulled out a thermos and two travel mugs. “As long as you like it black.”
Danielle didn’t, but she said, “Black is fine” and accepted the mug in both hands. The warmth seeped into her hands, and she sent Riley a grateful smile.
“Got one for me?” Sydney was huffing from taking the ramp up the side of the parking garage. She let Chewy down from the sling around her neck. He ignored the humans and headed straight for the dogs. A few minutes later, Eliza emerged from the elevator with Lady, who decided to plop down in the middle of all the women rather than join the rambunctious game of chase happening in the middle of the park.
Riley’d brought enough mugs for everyone, and soon there was a companionable silence while the women soaked up their initial burst of caffeine for the day.
