Chapter 7 Liam
LIAM
Monday morning and I arrive at Rise & Shine just after eight, my hands still carrying the faint smell of antiseptic from the emergency call I handled before dawn.
Mrs. Peterson's ancient tabby had gotten into a fight, probably with a raccoon judging by the pattern of scratches, and needed stitching.
The second I step inside, the air shifts. Yeast and cinnamon, brown butter, and beneath it all, Garrick's steady presence holding the space. But none of this stops me in my tracks.
It's her.
Violet stands behind the counter next to him, lost in one of his spare aprons.
The fabric strains across her chest and hips, clings where it shouldn't, and hangs loose everywhere else.
She's all curves and quiet confidence, shaped like she was made for touch and built to take whatever an alpha gives without breaking.
My instincts lock on her before my brain has a chance to process anything else.
She's not dressed to impress. Her hair is tied back in a ponytail, strands slipping free around her face. There's flour on her cheek, a dusting across her hands. She's focused, listening to whatever Garrick is saying, completely unaware of how her presence rearranges the room.
She doesn't have to try. Which is the problem.
My pulse steadies, not from calm but from control. Every part of me goes still. Watchful. Ready.
"Morning," I say as I approach the counter. Garrick slides a coffee toward me without needing to be asked. I catch it mid-slide, take a sip, and let the heat settle in my chest. "You ready for your first day as our newest veterinary assistant?"
Violet looks up. Her eyes meet mine, pale blue and guarded, too wary for someone her age.
I catch the shift in her smell the instant it happens.
The sweetness sharpens. More honey than vanilla now.
Less fear, more curiosity. Omega scents never lie, especially when they're off suppressants. She definitely is.
"As ready as someone with zero veterinary experience can be," she says, tugging at her apron strings. "Just so we're clear, my animal experience consists of one freeloading cat who thought my fire escape was a five-star hotel."
"Everyone starts somewhere," I tell her.
Her smell pulls at something deep in my chest as I breathe it in again.
Sugar and spice, rich and comforting, like the memory of a kitchen you didn't realize you missed until you walked back inside.
"Most of the job is answering phones and organizing schedules anyway.
The animals usually know who they can trust."
Garrick snorts from the espresso machine. "Let's hope they're better judges than their owners."
I glance around the bakery. It's busier than usual for a weekday morning. "Speaking of owners, looks like you're having a good day."
"Violet made cinnamon rolls," Garrick says, and there's something in his words I haven't heard in a while. Pride, maybe. Not in himself. In her. "From scratch."
I turn back to Violet, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you said you couldn't bake."
"I can read," she says with a shrug. "Turns out baking's just chemistry with more butter. Garrick did have to talk me through it like I was defusing a bomb, though."
Knowing Garrick, she's putting it lightly. The man bakes the way some people conduct experiments. Getting his cinnamon roll recipe out of his hands, let alone having him teach it to someone else, isn't a small thing.
"They're good," Frank Stern calls from his usual table near the window. He lifts his coffee in salute. His golden retriever, Buster, is passed out at his feet, snoring through the noise. "Almost as good as Dorothy's, and saying something."
It is. Frank's been married to Dorothy for over fifty years, and anyone who's lived in town longer than a minute knows the story about her cinnamon rolls and the proposal two days later.
"Well, don't sound so shocked," Violet says with a slight smirk.
Her smell blooms again, rich and bright with real pleasure. And I feel it hit, low and certain.
She's starting to settle.
And I'm starting to notice.
"We should probably get going," I tell her, finishing my coffee. "My first appointment is in thirty minutes, and I'd like to show you around before Mrs. Henderson arrives with Whiskers."
"The infamous biting cat," Garrick laughs.
"The very one. Between you and me, Whiskers is all bluster. He just doesn't like change." I stand up, noting how Violet automatically moves toward the door. Good instincts. "Plus, I suspect Mrs. Henderson feeds him too many treats, which makes him irritable."
As we leave, Garrick grumbles something about not letting Whiskers eat her.
Clarifying what both Xaden and I concluded, Garrick is being protective over Violet as much as he doesn't want to admit it.
The air is sharp and clean, carrying the smell of pine and snow from the peaks around our little valley.
Violet shivers slightly in her thin jacket, and I make a mental note to mention to Garrick she needs proper winter clothes.
It's the kind of detail he'd notice and worry about, even if he'd pretend it was just practical concern.
"So," I say as we walk the three blocks to my clinic, "what made you decide to leave Colorado? Besides the car trouble, I mean."
I want her version of the events, and hope maybe she'll open up to me.
Her smell immediately shifts, the honey notes turning sharp and acrid with stress. Not a safe topic, then. I mentally kick myself for pushing too quickly.
"Needed a change," she says, her tone carefully neutral. "My cousin Emma lives in Dallas, so I was heading there when Dolly decided to have her breakdown."
"And you're planning to continue on once she's fixed?"
"That's the plan." But there's something in her tone suggesting she's not entirely sure about it anymore. I realize it's too soon to expect her to open up to me, one step at a time.
We reach the clinic, a converted Victorian house I bought three years ago and slowly renovated into a practice. The sign out front reads "Mairi Veterinary Services" in cheerful blue letters, with a paw print logo Janet Reeves' artistic daughter designed for me.
"It's lovely," Violet says, and I catch genuine appreciation in her tone. "Very... welcoming."
"The idea was to make it feel more like visiting a friend than a medical facility. A lot of people are nervous about bringing their pets to the vet."
I unlock the front door and usher her inside, flipping on lights as we go.
The reception area is warm and comfortable, with mismatched armchairs and a small play area for kids who come with their families.
Photos of my patients cover one wall – a gallery of happy, healthy animals never failing to make me smile.
"This is where you'll be stationed most of the time," I explain, gesturing to the front desk. "Appointment book, phone, computer for billing. Pretty straightforward stuff."
Violet nods, moving to examine the setup with careful attention, like she's trying to memorize everything at once. Her smell is still carrying those stress notes, and I find myself wanting to do something to ease her anxiety.
"Hey," I say gently, "you're going to be fine. This isn't brain surgery, trust me. It's just scheduling and basic customer service. And if you have any questions, I'm literally right through the door."
She takes a deep breath, and I watch some of the tension leave her shoulders. "You're right. I'm just... it's been a while since I had a real job. I want to do well."
"So, what have you been doing with your time?" I ask out of curiosity.
"I was a budding writer. I love writing, and I've done freelance work... or rather I used to."
It's as if she drifts off, back to the past. Back to the reason she ended up in Cedar Ridge.
I try and pull her back. I'm asking too many questions too soon.
It's a habit, I fire questions all the time to the owners and at times I've been accused of making them feel as if they did something wrong with their pet.
I would never do it intentionally, I just can't help my nature.
"You'll get the hang of this job in no time." And I mean it.
The front door chimes, and I glance at the clock. Eight-twenty, which means my first appointment is early.
"Dr. Mairi?" calls a familiar tone, and I turn to see Cole Matthews standing in the doorway with his K-9 partner, Rex, at his side. The German Shepherd is panting slightly, his tongue lolling out in what looks like a canine grin.
"Morning, Cole. You're early." I move toward them, automatically noting Rex's body language. Alert but relaxed, no signs of discomfort or distress.
"Rex was restless all night," Cole explains, running a hand through his prematurely graying hair. "Couldn't figure out what was bothering him. Thought maybe he picked up something on patrol yesterday."
I crouch down to Rex's level, letting him sniff my hands before examining him. He's a beautiful animal : strong, intelligent, utterly devoted to his partner. "Hey there, buddy. What's going on?"
Rex's tail wags, and he noses at my hands with clear affection. We've known each other for years, ever since Cole first brought him in as a puppy for his initial vaccinations.
"Everything looks normal," I tell Cole after a quick examination. "Good weight, clear eyes, regular temperature. Sometimes they just have off nights, like people do."
"Could be the weather," Cole muses. "Storm front moving in later today."
"Definitely could affect him. Dogs are much more sensitive to barometric pressure changes than we are." I stand up, dusting off my hands. "I'd say just keep an eye on him, and call if anything changes."
"Will do. Thanks, Doc." Cole starts to turn, then notices Violet standing uncertainly behind the desk. "Oh, you must be our new resident. Violet, right? I'm Cole Matthews, deputy sheriff."
"How'd you know?" Violet's face shows immediate distress, like Cole's observation is too much for her to handle.