Chapter 11
11
Even top athletes let their focus slide when they’re off the court.
Can’t fault myself for a few late-night text messages.
Fine, more than a few.
About a hundred. But I swear it was just harmless flirting, and it won’t happen again.
Back to boot camp for me.
The next morning I work out at the gym with renewed vigor, I walk to the office with purpose in my stride, and I tackle the day with a sharpened eye.
I’m a fucking top-of-the-line Nikon.
Even though Sloane is in and out of the office, looking delectable as always, I am on point.
I’m an Olympic athlete, I’m a neurosurgeon, I’m an astronaut. Nothing about her distracts me.
Not that freaking pink shirt when it slopes off her shoulder.
Not the sweet vanilla smell of her skin when she reviews some of the foster dogs and their medical needs.
And definitely not the charming, bell-like laugh she emits when she and Sam debate which nearby coffee shop has better beans and cuter baristas.
I’m definitely not at all distracted when she pops into my office at lunchtime and hands me a Vietnamese noodle dish she says she picked up from a shop around the corner. What would distract me about noodles?
Certainly not when she says, “I remember you said Vietnamese had become your favorite cuisine.”
My lips curve into a grin as memories streak by. Late-night walks, and dates, and explorations across the city. Dirty, flirty, naughty, wonderful, deep, and fantastic conversations that stretched late into the night.During that one delicious week, we were all about lingering talks, kisses on moonlit streets, and deliberate anticipation. We took things slow. We did it by choice, wanting to savor what had promised to be the sweetest, most tantalizing courtship. Like the time she told me she loved Vietnamese and I took her out to a restaurant I found, and after I told her it had become a favorite of mine too.
“Do you still like Vietnamese?” she asks.
I stand, walk around my desk, peek out the door. No one’s nearby. She’s inches away from me, and I take a step closer, stopping briefly to dip my face near her ear. “Yes. I very much do.”
She shudders, and I’m a druggie. An addict, jacked up on his hit. One whiff of her sends my brain into overdrive, with wishes and wants crashing into each other.
“I should leave you with your noodles, then,” she says, her voice breathy. Her body is radiating heat waves, and they’re setting my skin on fire.
“Yes. You probably should, but I’m also excellent at sharing.”
Her brown eyes are wide and hungry. “I like Vietnamese food too.”
I gesture to the noodle dish. “We can talk about the no-hump Wednesday. Fitting, no?”
Her enticing lips tip into a grin. “So fitting.”
She sits across from me, and we share a quick meal as we discuss the spay and neuter parade for tomorrow, and this almost feels like something that could have happened seven years ago.
What would have happened if I hadn’t lowered the guillotine on our burgeoning romance?
* * *
The rest of the afternoon, I’m nose to the grindstone, seeing patients until the end of the day. Sam tells me our last appointment canceled.
I check my watch. Ten minutes till closing time. “Want to cut out early?”
She punches the air. “Yes!” Then she rearranges her features. “Just kidding. I want to stay and do extra work all night.” Her smile is sweet and saccharine.
“Get out of here. I know that’s a fib.”
As she and Jonathan pack up to leave, the door bursts open and Sloane rushes in, clutching a tiny, trembling dog with big butterfly ears.
“I pulled him from animal control’s shelter just now,” Sloane says, adrenaline coloring her tone.
“Oh my God, he’s adorable,” Sam coos, racing over to the Papillon mix in Sloane’s arms.
“He’s so sweet too,” Sloane says.
“Why don’t you bring him into exam room one? I’ll make sure he’s okay,” I offer.
“Thank you. The shelter said he was fine, no heartworm, no visible issues. But I’d love for you to check.”
I head into the room, and both women follow with Jonathan close behind.
“It’s a dog party,” Jonathan says, in a singsong voice.
The copper-colored mutt with white paws and the biggest doe eyes I’ve ever seen burrows deeper into Sloane’s chest, tucking his snout underneath her arm.
Sam pets his back. “He’s scared. He must have had a crazy day. How did you spring him?”
“He’s so sweet, but he was sitting in the corner of the kennel just trembling and looking so frightened and pathetic. I couldn’t resist.”
“Who could resist those eyes? Even my mom wouldn’t be able to turn you away,” Sam says, encouraging the little fellow to poke his head out. Soon enough, the pup does, and somehow I manage the task of examining him while Sloane cradles him against her breasts, and my two employees watch.
Yup, this is platinum-level good-boy behavior now. I’m earning my medal tonight.
“What’s his story?” I listen to his heart rate.
“He was living on the street. Picked up by animal control a couple days ago. He only had one night left,” she says, while I check his teeth, “but I know we’re going to find him a great home.” She drops a kiss to his head, and it is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever seen. “You’re going to be okay, Mr. Fox. I know you didn’t like living on the street. I’m going to find such a good home for you, and it’s going to be wonderful. You’re going to find a person who loves you. I promise.”
She gives him another kiss.
And fuck my focus.
My heart is thumping hard, and I want to wrap my arms around her, kiss her neck, and tell her the little guy will be okay. “Mr. Fox?”
“Well, he looks like a little red fox,” Jonathan says.
“He totally does,” Sam chimes in, and it’s a damn good thing the two of them are here. If they weren’t, I’d have to call my sister and tell her I was ready to cave in two days.
I’m such a sucker for a woman who’s good with animals.
“Do you have a foster home for him yet?” I ask.
Sloane shakes her head. “No. I’m going to keep him with me tonight.”
My heart softens even more. “Let me send you home with some food for him. And I’ll call you a cab.”
She snuggles him closer. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
A few minutes later, I put her, some cans of food, and Mr. Fox in a cab, wishing I was going with them too.