Ch. 24 – Prem
“ W hat is it? Pancreatitis? Intestinal impingement?” Tears sparkled in Layla’s eyes. “Cancer?” The word was a trembling whisper.
Prem took a step back from the exam table and met Layla’s terrified gaze. “Worse,” he told her solemnly. “It’s gas.”
“Gas?” Layla echoed. Her delicate blonde brows knit together in confusion.
Prem picked up Cactus from the exam table. The little hedgehog lifted his head and stared at Prem with black beady eyes. “You’re feeding him too many treats.”
“I am not!” Layla objected.
“Are too.” Secretly, Prem enjoyed riling her up. Layla was such an easy mark, and when she got angry, her cheeks grew rosy as apples.
“I know how to take care of my hedgehog,” she insisted.
“Apparently not.” Prem gave the little guy a pat on his head. “And scale back the fruit. He’s a little overweight, too.”
Layla gasped. “How dare you!”
“Uh, do you still need me in here?”
Prem and Layla both turned to look at Deja who stood uncomfortably in the corner of the room, a tablet in her hands. Honestly, Prem had forgotten she was even there.
“Tell him, Deja,” Layla demanded. “Tell him that I don’t spoil Cactus.”
“You should be happy,” Prem replied as he gently set the hedgehog in his carrying case. “It’s not cancer.”
“I am happy,” Layla gritted out. “Ecstatic. Deja?”
Deja looked between them. “Uh, I think I hear my phone ringing.” She backed out of the room with surprising speed.
“Cut back on the fruit,” Prem repeated to Layla, delighting in the angry flush rising up her chest. One step, and he could cut the distance between them. Every cell in his body wanted to take that step, pull her into his arms, and grab that lush, pink lower lip between his teeth.
Layla took a haughty step forward and reached for the carrying case. Their hands touched then stilled.
Their eyes met.
They both laughed a little awkwardly, and Prem released the case.
Since when had he turned into a middle schooler waiting to see if a girl would respond to the note he’d left in her locker?
Except kids didn’t write notes, anymore, did they? There was probably an app for that. And his “note,” as it were, had consisted of three excruciatingly idiotic texts. Prem felt like an utter buffoon just remembering how long and hard he’d stewed over those texts. After spending the entire morning on Sunday typing out stilted paragraphs to Layla on his phone, he’d deleted it all and settled on… ‘Hi.’
Because he was a cowardly little shit.
Their sex in the barn had rocked his world. Shaken it to pieces. He’d writhed in bed that night, replaying the experience over and over. The sock he’d used to catch his ejaculations had been so stiff in the morning it could probably withstand a trash compactor.
But had their sex meant as much to Layla?
If the answer was no, Prem wasn’t sure his heart could handle it.
But if it was yes, what did that mean? They worked together. He was her boss. What they’d done had clearly crossed an ethical line.
Either way, there was no going back. …Which was why he’d spent all of Sunday in a state of abject terror waiting for her answer to his texts. It’d come through at exactly 3:01 PM.
Layla: Hi back. [Smiley face emoji.] Yesterday meant a lot. Let’s talk tomorrow.
He’d replied with an insipid thumb’s up emoji… annnd spent the rest of the night trying to parse it for every last drop of meaning from her words.
Now, here they were.
Layla held the carrying case in both hands now and rocked on her heels.
“Is now a good time to talk?” he asked. And, just in case she needed the clarification, he added, “About what happened. On Saturday.”
Prem wanted to slap himself across the face.
Layla nibbled on her bottom lip. “I need to take Cactus home before the clinic opens, but let’s talk at closing.”
“Yeah, sure,” Prem agreed. “Good idea.”
He watched her leave the exam room, her tight little ass swishing from side to side in her high-waisted jeans. When she was out of sight, he released a heavy breath.
Good. Now he had a whole day to decide what he wanted to say to her.
Prem moved to the cabinet and retrieved the cleaning solution. His right hip throbbed angrily, reminding him of the extra-long gym session he’d put himself through yesterday. Hitting the treadmill for a few additional miles and pumping heavy weights had helped burn through some of his anxious energy, but it hadn’t calmed his mind at all.
Prem returned to the exam table and spritzed it with the cleaning solution.
Maybe he could fire Layla?
Yeah, great way to start a relationship, he thought to himself as he moved the cloth in wide circles across the table. Take away the livelihood of the girl you want to impress. Why don’t you just slash her tires and punch her in the boob while you’re at it?
And then there was the issue with her fiancé. Ex-fiancé. Were things completely over with that jackass? Had to be, right?
“I think the table’s clean,” Deja said from the doorway.
Prem looked up. How long had he been rubbing the same spot?
“Wanna talk about it?” Deja offered with a warm smile. “Sometimes it can help to share.”
Their eyes met. A small part of Prem was tempted to pour out his heart to the friendly vet tech, if only to relieve the pressure of it all. But the greater part of him–specifically, the business owner in him–knew he’d already created a human resources apocalypse in his practice as it was.
Prem cleared his throat. “Our first appointment should be arriving soon. Can you handle reception until Layla returns?”
The smile dropped from Deja’s face, and she nodded. “Sure.”
Prem quickly stashed the cleaning supplies and stalked to his office, ignoring his unhappy hip. He eased into his chair and, as was now his routine, re-read the sticky note that still stood on the side of his monitor.
Welcome, Dr. Dhawan!
He stared at the delicate, looping letters, at the heart beneath the exclamation point.
Prem put his face into his hands. What was he going to do?
*
Awkward. That was Prem’s new word of the day. His theme song. His personal anthem.
He tried to stay in the exam rooms as much as possible or in his office between appointments, but even his best efforts couldn’t keep him out of reception. Every time he walked a client to the front desk, his eyes would meet Layla’s, and they’d both look away.
He stammered.
She blushed.
They laughed like idiots at nothing.
Not that avoiding her mattered. Because wherever he was in the clinic, he felt her. Close but never close enough. Prem remembered the taste of her skin. The taste of her on his tongue. He could hear the delightful, unbridled noises she’d made. He could smell the scent of her strawberry shampoo mingled with the odor of hay and dirt and horses.
His body burned with fire. His penis ached with the need for release.
Which is why he found himself snapping at Deja, cold-shouldering attempts by clients to make small talk, and providing short, curt patient care directions at the end of each appointment.
In other words, he was acting like a colossal dick.
But what was Prem supposed to do? Even as he yearned for Layla, he feared what was coming at the end of the night. What if she regretted their experience in the barn? Worse, what if she accused him of taking advantage of her? Of abusing his position of power as her boss?
On the other hand, what if she wanted more?
But then she’d have to leave the clinic.
And around and around his thoughts went, like a carousel in hell.
And then, at last, somehow, the sun was setting outside the windows. Kate had left early to take her husband to a medical appointment, and Prem was completing his last appointment with Zorro, a ten-year-old tuxedo cat with ear mites.
“Besides the ear mites, he’s healthy as an ox,” Prem told Earl, Zorro’s owner. “I’ll prescribe some medicine that usually shows good results. Just apply a layer of the ointment with a Q-tip twice a day, and that should do the job. If you don’t notice any change in two weeks or if it gets worse, let me know.”
“Will do. Thanks, doc,” Earl said. He swept Zorro off the table and gave him a big kiss before stuffing the large cat into his carrying case and leaving the exam room.
As Prem wiped down the table, he heard the dulcet tones of Layla’s voice mixed with Earl’s. The two conversed for what seemed like hours before the old farmer finally retreated to his truck outside.
Then they were alone.
And Prem still had no idea what he wanted to say to Layla. There seemed to be no easy answer. He cleaned his stethoscope to stall for time.
“So, I guess we should talk.” Layla’s voice spoke from the doorway of the exam room.
Prem set down the stethoscope and forced himself to meet her eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Layla walked into the room, pulling her braid over her shoulder.
God, she was so beautiful. Everything inside Prem wanted to pull her into his arms and lay his mouth across hers.
And then he knew.
That was the answer.
Yes, he wanted to try and make things work with Layla. Because it wasn’t just about the world-shattering sex they’d had on Saturday. It was everything else, too. Hell, he’d somehow drifted off in her arms…in a horse stall of all places!
Prem had never been an easy sleeper. Slipping into bed was just an excuse for his mind to start rounding up all his worries from the day and preparing his to-do list for tomorrow. But in Layla’s embrace, all his worries had faded. He’d never felt so loved. So safe.
Yes.
It’d always been yes with Layla. They would find a way.
He offered her a smile.
She looked away.
Fear constricted Prem’s heart.
“I’d like to go first,” Layla said.
“Okay.” Prem tried to swallow, but his throat felt packed with cotton.
“Saturday was…incredible,” Layla started. Her hands massaged her braid. “It was…like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”
“I felt that way too,” Prem cut in, hope flaring in his heart. It had meant something to her.
Layla refused to meet his gaze.
“But…”
The word struck Prem like a bolt of ice. It flash froze his veins, his heart, his soul.
The phone erupted at the front desk, startling them both.
Layla glanced up, her eyes full of sorrow.
The phone rang again, and she turned and hurried to the reception area to answer it. Prem watched, shell-shocked, as she leaned over the desk and pulled the phone from its cradle.
“All Paws and—Hi Jim. Uh-huh. Oh. Oh no. Buttercup? …Okay. Uh-huh. Sure. He’ll be right over. Yeah, I have it in Buttercup’s patient file. Okay. See you soon.”
She hung up and turned to Prem. “We’ve got a cow emergency.”