Chapter 6
Saoirse
I tried not to wince as Mrs. Dunne’s eyes widened at the sight of my face.
“Good heavens, Dr. MacGregor! What happened to you?”
“A minor disagreement with a horse.” I forced a smile that pulled painfully at my swollen cheek. “Nothing serious.”
The elderly woman clutched her tabby cat carrier tighter. “That looks quite serious to me, dearie.”
“Occupational hazard.” I reached for the carrier. “Now, what seems to be troubling Marmalade today?”
As Mrs. Dunne described her cat’s symptoms, I caught my reflection in the metal cabinet behind her. Christ. The bruising had deepened overnight into a spectacular purple-black crescent that spread from my cheekbone to my eyebrow. No wonder everyone kept staring.
Three more appointments followed Marmalade’s, each beginning with shocked expressions and concerned inquiries about my face. By midday, I’d perfected my explanation down to a brief, “Spooked horse, wrong place, wrong time,” delivered with a professional smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
In the break room, I pressed a cold compress to my face and checked my phone. Three missed calls from Mother. Brilliant. Ignoring those, I flipped to my texts to find one from Isla checking in for the day.
Isla:
Cripes, I hope the other guy looks worse.
I’d sent her a selfie of my face this morning.
Saoirse:
I’m all set for my cosplay as a prizefighter. And the horse is okay. Love you. Stay safe.
Across the room, Jenny, another of our vet techs, popped her lunch in the microwave. “You really should have put something on that.”
“And have people think I’m covering up domestic violence? No thank you.” I winced as the cold hit a particularly tender spot. “Besides, makeup on an open wound is asking for infection.” Not that the scrape that went along with the bruise was bad. Not in the grand scheme of the injury. But still.
“Fair point. Mr. MacDougal has arrived with his new puppy for vaccinations. And there’ve been four more walk-ins this morning.”
I sighed. “Thank God Grandda’s here, even if he is the reason I look like this.”
“He seems to be enjoying himself,” Jenny offered.
“That’s what worries me.” I tossed the compress into the sink. “He’ll never retire if he thinks he’s still indispensable.”
Emily knocked on the doorjamb. “New patient in three.”
I squared my shoulders and prepared for another round of explaining my black eye to startled clients.
I glanced at the chart in my hand as I walked toward exam room three. Belgian Malinois, eight years old. Uncommon breed for our practice. The working dogs we saw were usually herding or flock guarding varieties.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” I murmured to myself, pushing open the door.
The dog lay on the floor, alert but subdued. His rich brown coat looked healthy enough, but there was a heaviness in his posture. A lack of the usual Malinois energy. His watchful, intelligent eyes tracked my movement as I entered.
I immediately lowered into a crouch beside him, my voice softening automatically. “And who do we have here today?” I extended my hand, palm down, letting him catch my scent. “Hello, handsome.”
The dog’s nose twitched as he sniffed my fingers, then he gave them a gentle lick. I got no tail wag, but no growl either. I’d take the middle of the road tolerance of my presence to the alternative any day. I ran my hand gently along his head, noting the barest hint of gray around his muzzle.
When I finally looked up to address the owner, the words died in my throat. Finley Patterson stood at attention, arms crossed over his chest, watching our interaction with an unreadable expression.
My professional demeanor snapped back into place like armor as I straightened. My bruised face throbbed as I tensed my jaw. “Finley. I didn’t realize you were Ajax’s owner.”
But he didn’t say a word. Before I could even process, he’d shifted from that odd, military stillness to looming intensity.
One moment he’d been standing across the room, and the next he was right in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint evergreen scent of his soap and feel the heat radiating from his body.
His hand hovered near my face, not quite touching the bruise but close enough that I could feel the warmth of his skin. His hazel eyes had darkened to the color of storm clouds, his jaw clenched so tight I could see a muscle jumping beneath the stubble.
“Who do I need to put in a body bag?”
The words hit like a slap—not because I was afraid, but because I wasn’t. Because some primitive part of me believed him. He looked like he’d already started the mental list, and the only thing stopping him was the lack of a confirmed name.
The protective rage in his eyes didn’t match our dynamic at all. We weren’t friends. We weren’t anything. But in that moment, Finley Patterson stood there like a man willing to go to war for me. And I didn’t know what to do with that.
I’d read the books. The over-the-top touch-her-and-die nonsense that always made me roll my eyes.
But standing there, face-to-face with it in real life, I understood why readers swooned.
Because when he said it, my heart pounded like I’d just sprinted uphill, and my body betrayed me with a heat I had no business feeling.
This close, I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the slight scar above his left eyebrow, the fullness of his lower lip. My gaze dropped to his mouth, then jerked back up to his eyes.
God help me, I wanted him to kiss me. To find out if those surprisingly sensual lips were as talented as I imagined. To see what all that intensity would be like directed toward something a lot more satisfying than a beating.
The exam room suddenly felt too small, too warm.
I should have been offended by his presumption, irritated by his caveman response. Instead, I found myself fighting the inexplicable urge to close the distance between us.
I swallowed hard, trying to regain my composure while my body betrayed me with a rush of attraction so intense it left me dizzy.
This was Finley Patterson. The man who couldn’t be bothered with a helpless kitten.
The eternal joker who never took anything seriously. The man who drove me absolutely mad.
And yet, in this moment, with his eyes blazing and his entire body coiled with protective fury on my behalf, I couldn’t remember why I disliked him so much.
I managed to find my voice, stepping back to create some distance. “I appreciate the defense, but it’s really not necessary to hurt the horse because she got scared.”
My voice came out even, but inside I was spiraling. The man had cracked open something I didn’t know I’d locked down. And now he was pretending like it hadn’t happened.
“A horse did this?” Finn’s expression shifted from murderous to bewildered.
My back went up immediately. “I’m a large animal vet. They are occasionally unpredictable. I get the odd injury.”
I watched as Finn visibly reeled himself in, his shoulders dropping incrementally, his breathing evening out.
It seemed to take him a long time to regain his composure, as though he were physically wrestling his rage back into some internal cage.
The intensity of his reaction both unnerved and fascinated me.
When he finally managed to speak again, his voice was carefully controlled. “Arnica cream will help with the swelling and the pain.”
Of course, he would know what would help with bruises. Royal Marines probably collected injuries like I collected veterinary journals.
“Um. Thank you.” I smoothed down my lab coat, determined to get this interaction back on a professional keel. “Why don’t you tell me about this fellow here?”
I gestured toward Ajax, grateful for the excuse to look away from Finn’s face. The dog had watched our entire exchange with those dark eyes, his head tilted slightly as though trying to understand the sudden tension in the room.
Finn’s expression softened as he looked at the Malinois. “This is Ajax. He was my friend Charlie’s service dog. Military working dog, specifically. Charlie died three weeks ago.”
The matter-of-fact way he said it didn’t hide the undercurrent of raw grief, and my chest tightened in sympathy. Whatever else Finley was, I recognized legitimate pain. I knelt beside Ajax again, running my hands gently over his head.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I lifted my gaze back to the man. “Both of you.”
With uncharacteristic sobriety, Finn nodded. “Thank you.”
I cleared my throat and focused on Ajax, who sat perfectly still under my examination. His coat was healthy, eyes clear, but there was a stillness to him that spoke of more than physical ailments.
“So, he was a military working dog?” I gently checked his teeth. “What was his specialty?”
“Tracking, mostly.” Finn crouched beside us, his voice softening when he addressed the dog. “He and Charlie were deployed together for six years. They were inseparable.”
The tenderness in his tone caught me off guard. This wasn’t the flippant charmer from the wedding dance floor. This was someone else entirely.
“Has he been eating properly?” I ran my hands along Ajax’s ribs, noting he was slightly underweight but not dangerously so.
“I got him home yesterday. The handler who’s had him said he’s not eaten as much as normal since—” He cut himself off, swallowed, and tried again. “Since it happened. I’ve got the food that was sent home with him. Didnae think I was supposed to change things too quickly.”
I nodded, continuing my exam. “Depression affects dogs much like it does humans. Loss of appetite, lethargy, withdrawal. He’s grieving.”
“That’s why I brought him in.” Finn’s eyes followed my hands as I checked Ajax’s joints. “I know he needs time to adjust, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t something else wrong.”
The earnestness in his tone made something shift inside me. This wasn’t someone fulfilling an obligation or carrying a burden he resented. This was genuine concern.
“You really care about him.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Finn’s eyes met mine, no trace of his usual mischief. “Charlie was family. Which makes Ajax family too. Besides, I wouldn’t be here if not for this animal. He saved my life several times over. It seems only fair I do the same.”
Well. That was unexpected. I felt my walls crumbling slightly. The man who’d refused a helpless kitten was now taking on responsibility for a grieving military dog with determination and care. It didn’t fit my neat mental categorization of Finley Patterson.
I gave Ajax a gentle scratch behind the ears. “He’s physically healthy. The weight loss isn’t critical yet, but we should monitor it. The rest is going to take time and patience.”
Finn nodded, relief evident in the slight loosening of his shoulders. “I was also hoping you might have suggestions for helping him transition from military to civilian life. He’s been through enough. I dinna want to fuck things up any worse than they already are.”
Would wonders never cease? Those walls crumbled a little bit more. “I can see you’re committed to helping him through this, so let’s talk about your options.”