Then Came You Read online

  “I’ve got a great choice, and one . . . not so great,” Dell admitted. “And the last one is oh-holy-fucking-shit we’re in trouble, but she’s better than nothing.” He paused, rubbed a hand over his head. “Maybe.”

  Adam gave Wyatt a told-you-so look.

  The front door opened and Emily walked in. Weeks ago now she’d wised up and ditched the business suits for more practical clothing. Today she was in khaki pants and a knit top that was one of those snug wraparound deals that tied beneath a breast with a bow. He watched her walk toward them while having some pretty damn explicit thoughts about that bow. Like untying it.

  With his teeth.

  She had a box under each arm. She set the smaller box down and read the note out loud:

  Dear Dr. Dreamy Eyes,

  Heard you love homemade mac and cheese, so for treating my dear Boo-Boo yesterday, I whipped some up. There’s plenty more where this came from, anytime.

  Sue Mason

  Dell and Adam started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Wyatt demanded. “When you first opened up this place, every single woman in town suddenly had a dog or a cat that was sick.”

  “Just happy to have passed the torch,” Dell said. “Dr. Dreamy Eyes.”

  “Shit.” Wyatt snatched the note from Emily. It read exactly as she’d read, with one notable exception. “Hey. It does not say Dr. Dreamy Eyes.”

  Dell wiped away tears of mirth. “I should give you a raise for that alone,” he told Emily.

  “Feel free,” she said demurely.

  Wyatt shook his head. “Payback’s a bitch, you know.”

  “No hazing the new employees, especially the cute ones,” Dell said.

  Emily grinned at him.

  Dell grinned back at her.

  Wyatt shook his head again and grabbed a stack of files to go to the back.

  “Have a good day, Dr. Dreamy Eyes,” Dell said.

  “Shit,” Wyatt said, turning back. “You are not going to call me that.”

  “All day long.”

  Wyatt realized he’d forgotten about the other box Emily had brought in. “What’s in there?”

  “Our first patient,” she said.

  Wyatt reached into the box and pulled out a painted turtle—indigenous to Idaho. “Ouch,” he said, checking out the little guy’s injured, puffy, bloody face.

  The phone rang.

  “Shit,” Dell said.

  Another phone started ringing, and Dell swore again.

  Adam quickly made his escape. Smart man. Dell looked over and Wyatt cracked up at the look on his face.

  “Not funny,” Dell said.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “It won’t be this afternoon. I’ve gotta be up north,” Dell said. “Brady’s flying me. So guess who’s going to be standing right here if no one shows up to help?”

  Wyatt stopped laughing.

  Five minutes later he was in the back with Emily and her turtle. “A new pet?” he asked.

  “No, he was in my yard.”

  He smiled. “So the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  She stared at him. “Do you know my sister, Sara?”

  “No.” He smiled. “Rescuing’s a good quality. Especially in a vet.”

  “Maybe. But not so much in a father.”

  He glanced at her, but she was bent over the turtle. “He didn’t take care of you?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “He did his best.”

  “But?”

  She lifted her head. “But what?”

  “There’s definitely a but at the end of that sentence,” he said.

  She looked a little embarrassed to have been so transparent. “No. No but. Think this little guy is someone’s pet?”

  Okay, so they weren’t going to chat about her dad. “I don’t know, your neighbors aren’t very close. This poor guy’s had it rough. And he’s been rudely rebuked by his mate.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The males use their claws to stroke their woman’s face, to woo her when he wants to mate.”

  Emily’s gaze flew to his.

  He smiled at her.

  She dropped eye contact and looked at his hands, maybe remembering how he’d stroked the hair from her face when he’d been “wooing” her. “If she’s not in the mood,” he said, “she uses her claws to ward him off. I’m taking it she wasn’t in the mood.”

  “Maybe she was just nervous.”

  He looked at her over the turtle.

  She bit her lower lip. “Or maybe she wasn’t ready, I don’t know.”

  “Maybe she’s just prickly, and she has to be the initiator,” he said.

  Her cheeks reddened, and he laughed softly. “Hold him for me,” he said.

  Emily cradled the turtle between her two hands while Wyatt cleaned him up and put some antibiotic cream on the nasty cut. “You poor little man,” she whispered, stroking one of his legs. “Next time choose someone nicer.”

  Wyatt smiled. “You’re not returning him to the wild.”

  “Of course I am.”

  He gestured to the way she’d picked the thing up and cradled it to her chest.

  “Hey,” she said. “He’s hurt, that’s all.”

  He nodded, but he had sisters. He knew exactly when a woman was in denial, and this was a woman deep in denial. “We have extra crates,” he said. “Take one of the small ones. It’ll make a nice little home for him.”

  “I’m not keeping him!”

  “Okay,” he said, watching her stroke the little guy across the head. “Whatever you say.”

  She made a noise, grabbed a crate, and walked out of the room holding her turtle.

  He was smirking when she stuck her head back in, looking quite pleased with herself. “What?” he asked.

  “Dell says you’re backup to Mike at the front desk.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “He said I’m shadowing him on an out of office call. To one of the ranches he takes care of,” she said, smiling, her eyes flashing good humor, the little minx.

  “I like that expression you’re wearing,” he said. “But there’s one I like better.”

  “What?”

  He strode over to her, wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, slid his fingers into her hair to hold her where he wanted, and covered her mouth with his. When she gasped, he took full advantage, stroking his tongue to hers, kissing her until she’d plastered herself full front to him. Her arms had snaked around his waist and up under his shirt, where the touch of her fingers against his bare skin was sending currents of electricity out to every nerve ending he had, including the ones currently pressed against her pelvis.

  She blinked up at him, dazed, her fingers still fisted in his shirt at his back.

  “There.” He smiled down at her. “That expression. That’s my favorite.”

  Seventeen

  At the end of the day, Emily took Sammy home with her. Yes, she’d named the turtle. She couldn’t help it, he looked like a Sammy.

  She and Sara sat on the bottom step outside their front door, staring at the box Emily had tipped on its side so that Sammy could walk away when he was ready.

  He waited a good five minutes before walking cautiously out of the box and to the start of the grass.

  “There he goes,” Sara said.

  But Sammy stopped. Went still as stone.

  “It’s all good,” Emily told him. “I’ll be here if you ever need me. Enjoy the rest of fall, eat a lot of good stuff. Have a great life, Sammy. But pick a nicer girl next time, okay?”

  “Not a supermodel,” Sara said.

  Sammy took a few steps and vanished into the grass.

  Sara went inside to cook dinner.

  Emily stayed outside until dusk, watching for Sammy. But he was gone.

  * * *

  The next morning, Emily once again woke up to Q-Tip on her chest, nose to nose with her. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

  “Meo