Chapter Four
A nnabelle caught a glimpse of Sawyer as he—did he just fall into an exam room? The oof that echoed down the hall certainly seemed to indicate something like that. But as she leaned toward the girl at the desk and craned her neck, the door closed and he disappeared.
She pulled back and blinked at the redhead who looked vaguely familiar, but she wasn’t sure. “Sorry. I don’t know…”
The perky girl smiled. “I’m Dawn, a vet tech. I don’t think we’ve met, but I recognize you from our photography class up at Warner. Monday nights?”
“Oh, of course.” Anna brought her attention fully back to the young woman behind the desk, finally recognizing the red hair from the class she was taking. “Sorry, you’re out of context.” She offered a rueful smile. “Yes, I-I I am here to see the puppy that I brought in on Saturday.”
“Sure. Let me lock the door and I’ll take you back.” Dawn came around the end of the counter, chattering as she crossed the waiting room and flipped the lock on the door. “Dr. Braxton’s with his last patient, but he’ll want to know you’re here.” She came back, holding the gate open to indicate Anna should go ahead of her into the clinic, then led the way down the hall toward a wide open entrance labeled Hospital .
The thought of actually having to face Sawyer suddenly seemed daunting. “No, you don’t have to bother him. I’ll take a quick look at the dog and go.”
“He asked me to let him know when you arrived.” Dawn tapped on the door of exam room 3 as they passed it. “Anna Walker’s here,” she called to the closed door, and Sawyer’s muffled thank you came through although he didn’t open the door.
They ended up in a huge area with probably twenty built-in crates of varying sizes. The well-lit tiled space was spotlessly clean and smelled of animals, but also of disinfectant and…
Anna sniffed. “Do I smell lavender?”
Dawn chuckled. “Yes. Dr. Braxton brought in dried lavender to put inside all the animals’ beds. He says it helps keep them calm. Seems to be working. There’s generally more noise than this, although by this time in the evening, they’ve all had their supper and are settling down. He put a smart speaker back here, and we turn on lullabies every night after they go out for the last time.” Dawn pointed toward a closed door at the side of the room. “Through there is the boarding area. Trixie’s still in the hospital until Doc takes out her stitches—probably on Monday. Did he say you could take her home tonight? You can always bring her back for stitch removal. She’s out of her e-collar and into a lick sleeve now. We had to put a cat-sized one on her, she’s so small.”
Anna gulped. Take her home? “She’s not my dog.”
Dawn glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, you’re listed as her owner on her chart. I just assumed…”
“Well, don’t.” Anna immediately regretted her sharp reply. “I’m sorry. I mean, I did find her abandoned. and I was with Saw—er, Dr. Braxton when she came in on Saturday, but I’m not her owner.”
“We only have three inpatients right now. Two dogs and a cat.” Dawn led the way to a small crate on the end of the row. “Here she is.” She opened the crate, cooing and murmuring as she reached in and brought out a fluffy white, black, and brown dog that looked nothing at all like the bedraggled creature Anna had found in the pine grove on Sunset Ridge Lane. The puppy wore a long nylon brace that covered the injured leg, wrapped lightly around her neck, and closed with Velcro on her back.
Anna’s breath caught as Dawn handed the dog over because, honest to God, the little critter actually smiled at her. Immediately, the puppy snuggled into her hands and pushed her little nose against Anna’s sweater.
“Hello there,” she whispered, and her heart squeezed a little.
Trixie snuffled before reaching and up and licking under Anna’s chin before settling in her arms all warm and seemingly content.
“She’s such a sweetheart.” Dawn gave the dog an affectionate scratch between the ears. “And smart. She’s never once pottied in her crate—the floor sometimes if she can’t make it all the way to the yard, but she seems to know that’s her bed, and it should be kept clean.”
“She smells good.” Anna put her nose her against Trixie’s neck.
“That’s the flea shampoo—peach—and probably the lavender in her bed.”
Anna thrust the dog away from her chest. “She has fleas?”
Dawn chuckled. “No, she doesn’t. Surprisingly, she didn’t when she came in. Not a single nit on her. We use the flea shampoo the first time we give an animal a bath. It’s really too early in the season for them, so that was lucky. Whoever dumped her had apparently taken care of her a little bit. No heartworm or other parasites. Except for being filthy and hungry and injured, she was in decent shape for a stray.”
Anna settled the puppy back in her arms, staring into her oddly colored eyes. According to what Sawyer had told her and what she’d read online, the double iris color was a conformation issue. But what a dumb reason to abandon the poor thing to die. She really wished she knew who had left Trixie alone in the woods where she easily could’ve become a meal for an owl or a hawk or a coyote. “We’d turn those mean people into the ASPCA, wouldn’t we, Trixie?” she murmured to the little dog, whose ears perked up as Anna spoke.
Dawn smiled, clearly aware of what Anna had been thinking. “There aren’t any Pap breeders around here that we know of; Dr. Braxton’s been checking for them. Closest one is in Cincy, but they’ve got a stellar rep. Said she wasn’t theirs.” Dawn pulled what looked like a baby blanket—it was pink and covered in little giraffes and monkeys—out of Trixie’s crate, shook it and tucked it back in the crate in a soft pile. “She doesn’t like her blankie spread out over her bed; she uses it like a pillow, except for the corner she pulls over her face.”
“How do you know that?” Anna set Trixie up higher and the dog rested her little chin on her shoulder.
“You pick stuff up after a couple of days. She sleeps better way in the back of the crate, too, unlike Ray here”—she pointed to a beagle in the next crate whose nose was stuck right next to the door—“who likes to be up in the front.”
The beagle barked a quick retort and Dawn stroked one finger over his nose through the grate. “You can take her out to the yard if you like. It’ll be a treat for her.” She led the way to the back door of the hospital to a surprisingly lovely yard full of green grass and newly mulched flower beds containing clumps of early-flowering crocuses and daffodils along the edge of a white picket fence. Other green shoots portended more flowers would be blooming soon. The area overlooked a gravel parking lot and the huge barn at the back of the clinic property.
“Do I need a leash?”
“No, just set her down. She’s not going anywhere.” Dawn pointed to a dispenser on the wall by the tidy patio. “If she poops, here are the bags to collect it.”
Anna cringed. “ Collect it? Don’t I need gloves or a scooper or something?”
Dawn chuckled. “Put your hand inside the bag, pick it up, and turn the bag inside out. Tie it off.”
Anna vaguely remembered seeing her friend Sam pick up her dog’s poop that way down on the River Walk, but the whole idea was a bit distasteful. “All right.” She placed Trixie on the stone patio with the instruction, “Go play, pup.”
But Trixie pressed her fluffy body against Anna’s ankle and shivered.
“She’s a little afraid of the grass, so we usually have to take her out to it. It’s the transition from the pavers to the grass that seems to worry her.”
Anna knelt down beside the dog. “Are you having flashbacks? Does the grass remind you of being abandoned?” she asked. But the dog only barked once and pressed closer. With a pat on the puppy’s head, she moved about ten feet into the immaculately groomed yard, stooped down, and held out one hand. “Come on, Trixie. Come to me.”
Trixie started to move, got as far as the edge of the pavers, and backed up, dancing a couple of steps forward and back.
“She wants to come to you.” A deep voice brought Anna’s head up. There was Sawyer, clad in his veterinarian scrubs, standing in the open doorway. “Try again.”
Anna had discovered in her online perusing about Papillons that it was best to use single-word commands and to say the dog’s name before an ask, so she changed her tactic. “Trixie, come.”
Trixie looked back at Sawyer and Dawn, almost as if she was asking permission. Sawyer nodded and smiled. The puppy sat back on her haunches, hesitated, then leaped into the grass, and was in Anna’s arms a few seconds later.
Anna hugged her. “Good job, Trixie.” She set her down and stood up. “Let’s go, but be careful of your leg.”
*
Sawyer grinned as he watched Annabelle frolic with the puppy. They were a natural pair; he could see that even if Anna couldn’t—yet. She would, he was sure.
“I’m done for the day, Dawn. You and Min can take off now. I’ll take all the animals out one last time before I go.”
“Oh, no, Doc. You’re tired. Go ahead and go home. We’ll get them.” Mindy spoke from the hallway behind them.
He turned around and gave her a raised brow, hoping she’d read the signals he was sending. Go home. I’ve got this.
She frowned. “You sure?” Mindy was clearly struggling with allowing Sawyer to do her job, but Dawn tugged on her elbow.
“Let’s go.”
Mindy glanced from Dawn to Sawyer. “Okay. Well, Ray and Tink need to be leashed ’cause they’re still healing. Oh, and the boarders… You have to keep a close eye on Max. That horny little dachshund has a thing for Mrs. Swenson’s Great Dane, Charlie. We can go get them, now, and turn them out for a few minutes before we take off.”
He glanced Anna’s way. She was facing the barn, so he jerked his head toward the door. “’Preciate it, but I don’t want them out here with Trixie and Anna. I’ll get them after we put Trixie back up. Anna will help me, won’t you, Anna?” he called.
Anna stopped playing and eyed him suspiciously. “Won’t I what?”
“Help me with the other dogs for their last turn-out before we lock up.” He offered his best coaxing smile.
Anna’s brows came together in a V . “I don’t know anything about turning out dogs.”
“Yeah?” He ambled farther out to the patio and plopped down on one of the wrought-iron chairs by a round umbrellaed table. “Looks to me like you’re doing it right now.”
She pursed her full lips, which he didn’t remember being quite so luscious, and nabbed Trixie as she ran between her legs. Man, those legs go on forever. “Can we let the others out here with her?”
He relaxed against the metal spindles on the back of the chair, too tired to even care that the cushions had been put away for the night. It had been a long day, but he wasn’t ready for it to end. Not while Anna Walker stood less than twenty feet from him. “We’ll put her back in her crate, bring the other two from the hospital out, and then release the boarders after we put Ray and Tink back.”
Anna carried Trixie and a little tied-off blue bag up to the patio. “Tink?”
“Tinkerbell, the cat in the hospital. She’s got stitches so we keep her on leash, which she hates, but she likes the grass, so she deigns to come outside,” he explained.
Anna held out the bag of poop. “Where does this go?”
Mindy and Dawn snickered—damn, he’d forgotten they were still standing there. Ignoring the bag dangling in front of his face, he said over his shoulder, “Thanks, Min. Thanks, Dawn. See you guys in the morning.”
“G’night, Dr. Braxton. G’night, Anna,” the girls sing-songed in unison and he heard their talking and laughter as they scooted down the hallway toward the front of the office.
“See you, girls,” Anna said to the departing pair, but she was still holding the little bag out in front of Sawyer as if it was a gift instead of a bag of dog doo. “This?”
“Compost bin.” Sawyer pointed to a black bin in the back corner of the yard.
“It’s okay to put a plastic bag in the compost?”
“It’s biodegradable.” He held his hands up, gesturing for her to hand him Trixie. “Give her to me.”
She handed over the puppy, who snuggled against his chest, sniffing at his scrub top before licking his neck and his chin. “I think she’s in love with you,” Anna observed wryly over her shoulder as she headed for the bin.
“I have that effect on women.” Sawyer tipped his head away from the eager puppy. “I hoped you’d notice.”
She walked back, an easy long-limbed confident stride before sitting down on the edge of the chair across from him. “She’s just a girl with a crush on an older man. I’m a grown woman, and I rarely go around licking men’s faces to let them know I like them.”
He caught his breath at the teasing smile she tossed his way, enjoying that she was flirting with him. “Oh yeah? What’s your tell?”
She didn’t answer at first, merely sat with her elbow on the table and her chin in her palm watching as he set Trixie carefully on his lap to remove the long sleeve from her body and examine her healing injury. At last, she said, “Sometimes I turn up in places that are way out of my wheelhouse.” She scanned the clinic before returning her frank gaze to him and the dog. “What’s yours?”
His heart beat a little faster. Could she be there for him as much as for Trixie? At least he thought that was what she was saying.
He took a deep breath. “I’ve been known to spend obscene amounts of money on a new hobby just so I have something I can talk to a woman about. Maybe even impress her a little.”
She tilted her head, staring at him with narrowed eyes. Then she burst out laughing. “You bought a bike.”
He nodded. “I bought a bike. Mitch is setting it up for me.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“Tell my credit card that.”
“What did you get?”
He shrugged. “It’s a touring bike. Puncture-proof tires—you showed me how important that is.”
She flushed and looked away. “Yeah, that’s pretty important, apparently.”
“I haven’t been on a bike since high school, so I’m going to need some practice. Hoping you’d be willing to show me the best places to get started.” He inspected Trixie’s healing injury, keeping his eyes on the dog rather than checking to see Anna’s reactions. If she was scowling, he didn’t want to know.
But as he finally worked up the courage to look at her, she was smiling at him—a friendly, kind smile she’d give to anyone, but it was a smile. “Sure. When will your bike be ready?”
“Saturday.”
Her smile widened. “Mine, too. We can pick them up when Mitch opens at seven and take a quick ride down to the River Walk before I have to be at work. We’ll tool around town a little bit, too. That’s an easy way to get used to the hills before we—er, you , really start riding any distance.”
Sawyer nodded, slipped the sleeve back over Trixie’s leg, and reattached the Velcro. “That would be terrific—I’d like that.”
“Where are you living?” She reached over and scratched Trixie’s head, and the puppy closed her eyes.
“In an apartment above Graham Mackenzie’s garage—er, Mac. He said I should call him Mac.”
Anna’s laugh was soft, inviting. “Ah, you’ve landed.”
“Landed?” He watched her fingers sifting through Trixie’s soft fur.
Tidy manicured nails on the short side and painted a very pale pink. No rings. A narrow palm with long fingers. An artist’s hands.
“Everyone who’s new in town seems to end up in Mac’s garage apartment, for a while at least. Carly, Mac’s partner, calls it the landing pad .”
“It’s a great location for walking into town—pretty close to everything.” He chewed the inside of his lip nervously for a moment before plunging ahead. “Where do you live?”
She hesitated before responding. “Down closer to the river in the Box Factory condos. That reno was one of the first really big jobs my dad and uncle did. An old factory that they turned into a dozen condos.”
“That sounds pretty cool.”
“They’re nice. There’s always a waiting list.”
“Good to know.”
Another awkward silence ensued, making him wish he was better at filling in with flirty banter, but he’d never mastered that art.
Suddenly, she snapped her fingers, a sparkle in her eyes. “Hey, the biking club meets on the first and third Saturdays of the month for most of the season. We trek all over—the park, the riverfront, up to the cliffs in Rising Sun, and down to the casino in Vevay. They’ve even put a bike lane on the bridge to Kentucky. It’s a good way to get exercise and meet a lot of nice people.”
His heart sank a little. He wasn’t nearly ready to ride with a group. He wasn’t even sure he could make the ride from Back Alley Bikes to the River Walk. “Thanks. I think I need to practice on my own first. Get used to riding again. Plus, I work until noon on Saturdays.”
Her enthusiasm deflated a tad and the light in her blue eyes dimmed, but only slightly. “Sure. I understand.”
“Will you ride with me? Help me get my tires under me again?”
“Yeah, I’ll ride with you.” The light sparked sapphire blue once more, and that crazy zing he’d felt the first time he saw her in the pine grove returned with a vengeance.
“Great!” He rose and held out the sleepy puppy. “Here ya go. Her wound is healing well. She’ll be ready to go home in a few more days.”
Anna stood, too, her arms straight at her sides, her expression wary. She didn’t reach for Trixie, and the silence between them lengthened. His gaze went to the snug, long-sleeved T-shirt she had on under a navy-blue down vest. A riverboat was screen-printed across her small, but pert breasts with words We’re Showboating on the River Queen .
He inclined his head toward her. “Is that the big boat that’s dry-docked down on the river over by the bridge?”
“Yeah.” Her lips drew into a straight line. “Sawyer, I don’t want a dog.”
He walked around the table, keeping his eyes locked with hers, and this time, when he held out the puppy, she accepted her and cuddled her close. “I know.”