Page 18 of Fool Moon First Aid

“He did,” Dr. Dreamy replies, straightening up. “In the bathtub, of all places.”

“That’s…surprising,” I muse, twirling my spoon. It’s unlike her, unless she was thirsty. Sometimes, she’s fussy about her water.

“So, Ava…” He shifts gears, tapping the clipboard against his knee. “Aside from our serpentine adventures, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

I brace myself for the medical litany. “Hit me with it.”

His expression turns a tad more serious. “Well, you had a whole bookcase fall on you. How did that happen?”

I laugh, sounding more nervous than I intended. “Ah, that would be thanks to Bean, my little pink snake. She climbed the bookshelf, and before you ask, yes, it is possible.” It wouldn’t be the first time.

“You named your snake Bean?” he asks, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Yep, after garbanzo beans. I was eating them while shopping for her online,” I explain, a grin spreading across my face.

He nods, clearly amused. “And the bookcase?”

“Oh, that,” I say, a sheepish laugh escaping me. “Bean decided to explore the heights of my bookshelf. I, being the resourceful, albeit vertically challenged person I am, tried to retrieve her using a folding chair.”

“You did what?” His tone is a mix of disbelief and concern.

I bop him playfully on the nose with my spoon, unable to resist. “Listen, Doctor. I thought I could reach her by stepping on a shelf, but I lost my balance, and both me and the bookcase went down.”

He winces sympathetically. “That explains the broken ankle, the snow globe of puppies we had to remove from your thigh, and the two broken ribs.”

“That tracks.” I sigh, placing the empty Jell-O cup on the tray. “So, Dr. Dreamy, what’s next on the recovery agenda?”

“No work for the next six to eight weeks, Ava,” Dr. Dreamy states, his deep voice resonating against the sterile walls of the hospital room, his brow furrowed with genuine concern.

“I can’t do that,” I retort immediately, feeling the familiar surge of responsibility. Eloise and I are the only two who work there, and I’m the only actual vet. There isn’t another clinic for miles, and I’m the one everyone relies on for their furry emergencies. “I have to work.”

Dr. Dreamy sets his clipboard aside with a resigned sigh. His posture shifts, turning serious. It feels like a silent warning that he’s about to wolf out on me, but I’m no cub, and I’m certainly not his.

“Listen, I know you mean well,” I say, fluttering my hands in a dismissive gesture. The sterile scent of antiseptic floats in the air, making the room feel even colder and more impersonal. “But I’m a big girl. I can handle myself. Besides, I have until Monday. I’ll get one of those knee scooters, and I’ll be zooming around in no time. You don’t need to worry about me.”

His nostrils flare slightly, and his deep blue eyes darken, reminding me of a tumultuous ocean during a storm. It’s fascinating. “Ava,” he warns, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through the room.

I’m not one to heed warnings. That’s not how I roll. “Doctor?—”

“Dr. Walker.” He pauses and coughs. “It’s Brody Walker.”

“Right, Double-O Doctor,” I quip, a smirk playing on my lips, half convinced he’s some kind of undercover agent with a name like that. “I appreciate the concern, but my pet patients need me just as much as your human patients need you.”

“Ava,” he intones, and his voice is so deep, it could probably charm snakes.

Clearly, the meds are weaving their magic, because suddenly, my libido takes center stage. “Brody,” I mimic, rolling his name off my tongue.

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” He leans back, a casual smile playing on his lips that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. It’s a knowing smile, as if he’s privy to a secret about me, and I decide right then that I don’t like that smile. Not one bit. “Is that your final answer, Ava?”

The way he says my name makes it sound like a whispered sin, and suddenly, I’m questioning if that really is my final answer. I want him to keep talking, especially to me. “Depends.”

He taps the bedside table, a rhythmic sound in the quiet room, and stands up. Without another word, he strides out, leaving me in a whirl of confusion. He just…disappears.

“Well, that was dramatic,” I mutter.

“Take a nap, Ava.” Dr. Walker’s voice drifts back through the door. “You’re getting discharged tomorrow, and I suspect you’re going to need all your strength.”

What in the world does that mean?

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