Page 10 of The Sin Bin

Jax leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly. Something about Lauren set him on edge in a way that had nothing to do with attraction, though there was plenty of that too. It was the way she looked at him—like she was seeing parts of him he usually kept hidden, and not all of those parts he was comfortable with showing.

She returned moments later with a small carrier. Setting it on a nearby exam table, she opened the front to reveal the tiny gray kitten, now looking considerably better than he had the night before. His fur had been cleaned, revealing tabby markings Jax hadn't noticed before, and though one back leg was splinted, his eyes were clear and alert.

"Hey there, little fighter," Jax murmured, reaching a finger carefully through the carrier door. The kitten sniffed him, then butted his head against Jax's finger, a rusty purr emanating from his small body.

"He remembers you," Lauren said, her voice softer than before. As she spoke, her eyes traveled over Jax's face, lingering momentarily on the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lower lip, the way his dark lashes framed eyes that watched the kitten with unmistakable tenderness. She caught herself staring and quickly looked away, but not before Jax noticed.

Jax smiled, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease as the kitten continued to purr. "What did I tell you? He chose me."

Lauren watched them for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "There's an adoption fee," she said briskly. "And you'll need to fill out paperwork. I'll want to do a follow-up exam in one week, and he'll need to be neutered once he's fully healed."

Her clinical tone had returned, but something in her eyes had changed – a wariness tempered with cautious reassessment.

Jax straightened, recognizing the shift for what it was—a tentative truce. "Whatever he needs," he agreed. "I've got a carrier in my truck. I keep one there for shelter emergencies."

Lauren blinked at this revelation, then nodded.

An awkward silence fell between them, broken only by the kitten's purrs.

"Have you thought of a name?" Lauren finally asked, her voice softer than before.

Jax looked at the small creature that had somehow bridged the gap between his world and hers, if only temporarily. "Penalty," he decided. "Pen for short."

A surprised laugh escaped her, the sound so unexpected and genuine that Jax found himself smiling in response. It transformed her face completely, and for the first time, he glimpsed the woman behind the professional mask—warm, vibrant, and unexpectedly appealing.

"Penalty," she repeated, shaking her head with a lingering smile. "Well, it's better than Puck or Hat Trick, I suppose."

"Those were my next choices," he deadpanned, pleased when her smile widened.

The moment stretched between them, something shifting in the air. Lauren's eyes drifted to his mouth, just briefly, before she caught herself. Then, as if remembering herself, her smile faded, and the professional mask slipped back into place.

"I'll have Kim prepare the adoption papers while you get your carrier," she said, taking a step back. "And I'll write out detailed care instructions."

Jax nodded, reluctant to break the fragile connection but recognizing her retreat for what it was. "Thank you, Dr. Mackenzie. For everything."

The formality of "Dr. Mackenzie" wasn't lost on her, a small furrow appearing between her brows. "You're welcome, Mr. Thompson," she replied, matching his tone.

As he turned to leave, Jax caught sight of her pink-haired friend watching from a doorway, an unabashed grin on her face. She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up behind Lauren's back.

Despite the tension still simmering between them, Jax smiled as he headed for his truck. He might have left with more complications than he'd arrived with, but somehow, he didn't regret it.

LAUREN

"Well, that was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed in this clinic, and I once had to treat a show pony that belonged to a Calvin Klein model," Barb declared as they watched Jax's truck pull away, the newly named Penalty securely nestled in a large professional-grade carrier in his passenger seat.

Lauren rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed at her friend's assessment. "It was a simple adoption."

"Sure, if by 'simple' you mean 'charged with enough sexual tension to power the entire Eastern Seaboard,'" Barb countered, hopping up to sit on the reception desk. "I thought you were going to spontaneously combust when he started talking about commitment."

"That's not—I wasn't—" Lauren sputtered, grateful that Kim had stepped away to help another client. "I was concerned about the kitten's welfare."

"Uh-huh," Barb nodded skeptically. "And the way you were undressing him with your eyes was purely clinical assessment."

"I was looking at his injuries," Lauren protested, though even to her own ears, the excuse sounded weak. "He clearly has bruised ribs and those knuckles need proper care."

"So thoughtful of you to be concerned about his... knuckles," Barb waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"You didn't hear what he said about his childhood," Lauren said quietly, turning away to busy herself with straightening pamphlets. "There's more to him than just the hockey goon everyone sees."

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