Page 13 of Animal Instincts
“I’m sorry, it was wrong of me to ask. I’ve had a lot to pay out for recently, but I suppose I could ask my gran…”
Oliver clamped down on his rising groan. Gran. A little old lady, no doubt, who lived by eeking out her paltry pension.Oh god…
“I suppose I don’t have very much choice.” Oliver tried his best to sound indignant, but it was hard with both Joss and Bingo staring at him with big liquid eyes.
“Thank you. I promise I’ll have the payment ready for you. If I don’t you can always hunt me down, as you know where I work.” Joss’ lips lifted in a self-deprecating smile, and something about it sent a quiver deep into Oliver’s stomach.
“Only if you promise not to—”
“Assault you with cake. God, I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed. Well, I have, but that’s another story.” Nervous laughter bubbled from Joss, as he shuffled from foot to foot. “We’d best go,” he said, making no move to leave, “and let you get on with your evening. We’re sorry to have disturbed you, aren’t we, you daft dog?”
Oliver snorted. “All you were disturbing was me falling asleep over a huge pile of paperwork.”
Why did I tell him that?It was his turn to feel the heat of embarrassment wash over him, as he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his tunic.
“Oh? You don’t have help for that? I’d have thought you’d have enough to do, patching up the pets of Love’s Harbour.” Joss stared, as he waited for an answer.
“No, but I should get somebody in, just a few hours a week to keep it down.” Not let it pile up, and so end up with embarrassing reminders to pay for supplies, and get into a muddle over which clients had settled their bills and which hadn’t. “I’ve got some administration and book keeping type software. I was sold the line it was easy to use.” It was a pathetic admission, and he looked away, avoiding Joss’ gaze.
“I know most of the accounts packages for small businesses — my gran has her own mobile hair dressing business and I do her books. I’m pretty good at using them. Once you know one inside out, you know most of them, really. If you like,” Joss said tentatively, “I could help you out — as a way of saying thanks for giving me time to pay for Bingo. And for the café incident. Most people would have gone ape, and had a right to, but you didn’t.”
The door to the small office was ajar, the pile of papers an untidy mess; some had fluttered to the floor. Oliver thought he’d been doing okay, as he’d stumbled his way through. Four years at the country’s most prestigious vet school, plus numerous specialist courses and a wealth of experience behind him, when it came to dealing with his paperwork he went blank when he sat at his computer and tried to operate a system he’d been assured a child could use.
Joss followed his gaze. Perhaps Joss had sensed he was wavering. Perhaps Joss was right.
“I’m guessing it’s invoicing and receipts? I’m happy to help, and can do it now if you like but if you’d rather not—”
“Yes, please.” Christ, did that sound desperate, needy, and pathetic, or pathetic, needy, and desperate? “But don’t you have anything better to do?”
“It’s Psychic Night at The Fisherman’s Arms. In other words, Beryl from Baps ’n’ Buns, dressed up in a moth-eaten shawl and a sparkly turban reading tea leaves. Think I’ll give it a miss.”
Oliver spluttered out a laugh. “Well, I suppose it has to be better than the Festival of Ukulele which they had on last week.” Not that he’d gone, of course.
Joss’ answering chuckle danced down Oliver’s spine.
“Hmm, that’s up for debate. If I can put Bingo somewhere…”
“Yes, of course. Here, in this basket.’
Joss put the dog, which had fallen asleep in his arms, into the padded dog basket. Bending down, his jeans stretched across his arse, outlining its firm, tight roundness. Oliver’s mouth dried, and he jerked his gaze away. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea for… But Joss was already heading for the computer. He opened up the sleeping screen and a wide grin split his face in two.
“Perfect. This is what I use for Gran. I know it inside out.” He looked up, as he placed his hand palm down on the messy pile of papers. “There’s a lot here but it won’t take long, not if you know what you’re doing. And I do. You sure you’re okay with me seeing this stuff?”
“Are you sure you’re okay doing it for me?”
Joss’ answer was an even wider smile as he turned and got to work.
NINE
“So how did it go?” Declan lowered his voice as the customer he’d served took her caramel latte away with a happy smile. “You haven’t mentioned it, so I’m guessing not good?”
Joss sighed. Gran had said the same thing, more or less. Was he really that easy to read?
“It was rubbish.” Josh blew his breath out, golf balling his cheeks. He’d told Declan about the interview, knowing his workmate would understand the need in him to try and do something different, to take a risk.
“So why did it go pear shaped? Were you asked to show your practical skills, and fail miserably? Did you have to bandage his di—?”
“Ssshhh!” Joss spluttered, coughing and laughing at the same time. “If he had, I’d have wrapped it and knotted it so tight I’d have cut the blood supply and it would have dropped off.” Joss’ laughter faded as he thought of the wasted time, energy, ticket money — and hope.
