10. Acts of Service #2
Leaving him calm in the lobby, I grab the yellow mop bucket from the corner closet.
I run the sponge over the linoleum, cleaning up the crimson spots before they stain the floor.
The clinic phone rings on the front desk, the shrill noise cutting through the room.
I cross the lobby, picking up the receiver on the second ring so the noise escapes her notice.
“Willowside Veterinary Clinic.” I answer in a hushed tone.
I take a detailed message from an anxious pet owner complaining about a missed feeding schedule. I write the information on a yellow sticky note and stick it to the edge of the computer monitor. I handle three more calls over the next hour.
Two grueling hours pass in a blur.
“He’s all stitched up, Frank.” Jessie steps out into the lobby, grabbing a plastic pill bottle from the reception counter to hand to the rancher. “I gave him a strong antibiotic injection and a pain shot while he was under. He needs these oral painkillers twice a day starting tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Doc.” Frank grips the plastic bottle, tears welling in his eyes. “You saved my best working dog. I owe you.”
“He earned his keep today.” Jessie offers a tired, warm smile. “Let’s get you squared away.”
She moves behind the desk and taps the computer keyboard.
Frank pulls a worn leather wallet from his back pocket.
Leaning against the edge of the counter, I glance at the monitor.
She punches in the emergency surgery codes, but she deletes the after-hours premium.
The final total still stings, but she knocked a big chunk off the top to cut him a break.
Frank hands over a credit card. Jessie swipes the plastic and prints a paper receipt.
“Keep his bandages dry.” Jessie hands the card back. “Call me if he starts picking at the stitches.”
“Let me give you a hand with him.” I push through the swinging doors into the treatment room. I step up to the exam table and slide my arms under the sleeping cattle dog. The animal carries a lot of dead weight, but I lift him against my chest without a problem.
Frank grabs his keys and pushes the glass front door open.
We step out into the crisp autumn night, our boots thudding against the pavement.
We walk over to his pickup truck parked right near the clinic entrance.
Frank hits the unlock button on his key fob.
He pulls the rear door of the cab open, offering the spacious back seat.
I lower the groggy dog onto the worn fabric cushions, making sure his bandaged side faces up.
Frank shuts the truck door and shakes my hand before climbing into the driver’s seat. I watch the taillights disappear down the street before stepping back inside.
The thick glass door clicks shut. The clinic falls into silence. The hum of the medicine refrigerator becomes the loudest noise in the building.
I stay in the waiting room, leaning against the front reception desk.
Through the small glass window in the swinging door, I watch her work.
Jessie stands over the center exam table, spraying disinfectant over the stainless steel.
She wipes away the remaining crimson smears with paper towels, tossing the soiled wads into the trash bin.
A minute later, she pushes through the swinging door into the lobby. Her shoulders slump. Exhaustion radiates from every line of her posture.
She stops in her tracks, taking in the state of the front room.
Her gaze travels from the floor to the notes on the reception desk and then to me.
She blinks a few times before a slow smile tugs at the corner of her lips.
The realization washes over her face. A profound sense of gratitude replaces the exhaustion in her dark eyes.
The tough, guarded professional mask drops.
A sudden spike in her sweet vanilla and toasted sugar scent hits my nose. The aroma flares with potent, undeniable arousal. The rich scent coats the back of my throat, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core.
She crosses the room, stopping mere inches from my chest. She tips her head back to meet my gaze.
“I need a shower.” Her voice drops to a soft, needy whisper. “I need to scrub the clinic off my skin.”
“Let’s head upstairs.” I reach out, brushing a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “You can wash up, and I can get dinner warmed up.”
We walk up the wooden stairs side by side, our boots thudding against the steps.
I push the door to her studio apartment open, letting her step inside first. She heads straight for the bathroom to start the shower.
I walk over to the refrigerator. I pull the cold aluminum takeout containers from the shelf and peel off the cardboard covers.
Twisting the dial on the oven to a low heat, I slide the pasta and garlic bread onto the metal rack to warm up.
I move a stack of veterinary journals off the small kitchen table to clear a spot.
Winston, the tuxedo cat, weaves between my ankles, demanding his own meal.
He spent our first few visits hiding under the sofa, terrified of us.
Now, the little guy expects tribute the second we walk through the door.
I grab a tin of wet food from the counter, pop the aluminum tab, and scoop the pate into his ceramic dish in the corner.
He purrs loud in the quiet room, digging right into his dinner.
I pull the warm foil containers from the oven, twist the dial to off, and set the food on the small kitchen table.
I kick off my scuffed work boots, pull off my socks, and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.
Watching her command that chaotic clinic tonight gave me a huge rush.
I love seeing her in her element, and knowing I took some of the stress off her shoulders brings a deep sense of satisfaction.
The bathroom door opens a few minutes later.
Plumes of warm steam roll out into the studio, carrying the scent of fresh soap.
Jessie steps into the light, wearing nothing at all.
My breath catches in my throat. Every ounce of blood rushes south, pooling straight into my cock.
Drops of moisture cling to her collarbone, highlighting the flushed, pink heat of her skin from the hot water.
Her clean scent mixes with that natural, intoxicating aroma of vanilla and toasted sugar. As she crosses the floor, her hips sway with deliberate intent. She keeps her dark eyes locked right on mine, a confident spark lighting up her expression.
Stepping right between my spread knees, she forces me to look up at her gorgeous face. She reaches down to cup my jaw in her hands, pulling me into a deep, lingering kiss. Her tongue sweeps past my lips. We spend several minutes exploring each other.
Breaking the kiss, she pulls back just a fraction of an inch to catch her breath.
“You look incredible.” I press the words against her damp lips, wrapping my arms around her narrow waist to pull her flush against my chest. “I’m all yours tonight.”
“Then lie back and let me work.” A wicked smirk touches her lips.
Her hands move down to my chest, working the small buttons of my shirt to push the fabric off my broad shoulders.
Nudging my chest, she guides my back onto the mattress.
I go without a fight, letting her dictate the pace and call the shots.
Watching her take control makes my heart pound a frantic beat against my ribs.
Desperate to get skin-to-skin, she sheds the rest of my clothes in a rush.
Her quick fingers unbuckle my leather belt, pull down the zipper, and toss my jeans and boxers onto the floor in a messy pile.
My thick cock springs free, twitching hard against my stomach.
A drop of clear pre-come gleams at the tip.
“So eager.” She traces the hot head of my dick with her thumb, dropping to her knees at the edge of the mattress.
“You make me crazy, Jess.”