Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Rhys
Noah is strange.
Maybe that is why I find him so fascinating.
He has charm without confidence. Snowy, as he so wonderfully called her, would love his shoes right now.
She has all the confidence but none of the charm.
I can't teach someone to be charming, but I can build someone's faith in themselves.
I can teach someone to believe they deserve to stand in the spotlight.
Noah. More of a pet project than this barn. Can I mold him into someone who can glow under the cameras? Someone I shape, not someone who surprises me. Someone who can share the pressure, not steal the spotlight.
I know I can trust him. Or at least, I know how to keep him quiet. I've known since he turned himself into my accomplice rather than a witness in the brothers’ murders.
Now I need to prove he can trust me. Keeping quiet about him calling Chloe by a nickname will build that trust, but he will slip up and call her Snowy to her face.
“Chloe,” I corrected him. “The student nurse is Chloe. And she isn't too bad once you stop outshining her.”
“How? I'd rather none of your staff hated me.”
“Invite her to join you when the cameras roll. She can help you weigh puppies. She wants to be on the screen, but she doesn’t shine like you. She'll appreciate the background. And it keeps her useful.”
He steps back, moving his feet from the brick. Not uncomfortable with my gaze, but trying to improve it. He is the first person to acknowledge that he's distracting me from my thoughts, unlike most, who assume I'm doing nothing.
“I…” His sentence stops at that word; the rest of the words seem to vanish as he stares at me, hoping I can help him out.
He moves forward, closer than the brick he started on. He's nearly my height, eyes lift to make up the final few inches between us.
His mouth is so close.
Those lips are just begging to be kissed.
I lean forward, closing the distance. I feel his breath on my skin, slow and gentle. We're so close, I could wrap my arms around him and drag him in for a kiss. Deep, warm. Dangerous. All the things I thought I didn't deserve.
And then I step back.
“Thank you for letting me hold your tape measure,” he mutters.
When he says it like that, with his cheeks flushed pink, I realize how that could have been taken.
“I'll let you return to your puppies.”
He's made himself indispensable there; no one else can tell the tiny pups apart to check them against his records from the farm.
My surgeries are booked solid for the next few weeks after a court order approved neutering the farm bitches that aren't pregnant, and the two breeding males.
They all have to be neutered and vaccinated before rehousing, paid for by the council.
A convenient windfall for the practice that can fund my new hospital wing.
But watching Noah amble out of my barn, I know this is already worth all the disruption.
My gaze drops to the brick in the absolute dead center of the barn.
It was never about the measuring.
It was about obedience. And he didn’t even realize he was giving it.
Noah did everything I asked of him, and it was all hidden within the vision I was explaining. The fact that he responded to each prompt meant that he was listening. He wasn’t humoring me.
He was engaged.
“You planning on living out here now?”
I glance up from the brick to find Danielle leaning in the open barn doorway, arms folded across her chest. She’s been here eight years, since she qualified, back when it was just me and her, struggling to keep up with demand.
That was before we were selected to host the TV show.
Before we grew so much, I needed to employ three more vets just to keep up with demand.
She takes a few steps inside, her boots crunching softly on the dusty concrete.
“Tree said you disappeared with a tape measure and the puppy whisperer.”
“Puppy whisperer? Did you come up with that, or was it the producer's idea?”
“You know that boy has turned your entire practice upside down in about forty-eight hours?”
“The dogs did that,” I reply calmly.
“No. The dogs filled the kennels. The boy rearranged your life.”
“The producer wants him to stay, Stan is a little besotted with him…”
“It's not Stan. You're the one who is smitten.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Irritating.
I can't deny the comment, but I also can't rationalize the decision against my veterinary persona. This connection was born from the depths of my home, the depths of my cold, calculating soul.
“You’re building a hospital wing, taking on a trainee you met yesterday, and signing up for another television series.”
“We need the capacity.” I can defend that accusation professionally.
Danielle raises an eyebrow. “Do we?”
“Yes. For the dogs…”
“And when they're gone?” She doesn't give me time to answer. “You’ll fill it with strays and wildlife because it will give that boy a reason to stay after all the puppies are rehomed.”
“It's good business.”
“It's personal, which is fine. Everyone here is happy for you. But mixing your personal and professional interests so completely, so soon, I just don't want it to fall apart.”
It won’t. Noah won’t leave. I can give him more than he could ever find anywhere else. “I know what I'm getting into.”
Danielle studies my face as if she’s trying to diagnose something.
“You said that about the show,” she whispers.
“That was different.”
“You said it would just be a bit of publicity. A few cameras, a few rescues, then back to normal.”
I glance toward the practice building where Noah disappeared only minutes ago.
“There was never going to be a ‘normal’ after the show.”
She follows my gaze.
“We all want you to be happy. To find a special… someone. Just be careful,” she says finally. “That boy has been through something. You can see it in the way he moves. The way he waits for permission before doing anything.”
“I know.”
Danielle sighs softly. “You rarely get involved like this.”
“No,” I agree.
My eyes drop back to the red brick in the center of the barn.
“But Noah isn’t usual.”
And that might be the problem.