Page 17 of Animal Instincts
Oliver didn’t move.
I’ll see you tomorrow evening, then…
It sounded like a date. It wasn’t that, of course it wasn’t. All Joss was doing was bringing his dog in for a check up, that was all. Nothing more, nothing less.
It would only sound like a date if he let himself think that way. And he wouldn’t. He wasn’t ready for entanglements of any kind at the moment.
Thank you, James…Oliver’s lips curved up in a rueful smile.
I’ll see you tomorrow evening, then…
A tingle inched up Oliver’s spine.
He shook his head hard, as he got up and left, his lunch forgotten and abandoned at the little table.
ELEVEN
The next day, Joss walked into the practice reception area just as Oliver emerged from the consultation room, dressed in loose, light blue scrubs. Oliver nodded in acknowledgment but his attention was on his clients, a woman and a pre-teen girl, and the cat carrying case the woman was clutching. Joss took a seat, and waited, stroking Bingo’s head, who dozed against his front, tucked up in the carry harness Joss wore.
Keeping his head bowed, to give the departing clients some privacy, Joss took the time to study Oliver through the cover of his lashes and his fallen-forward hair.
The man looked tired. Whatever the day had brought, it had taken its toll. Joss felt like a fraud, because Bingo, in his second day at the café, had escaped the basket and scampered around much to the delight of the customers. The dog was as good as new, and he was definitely staying home tomorrow.
The owners left, glum and downcast. In the silence of the waiting room, Oliver didn’t so much as lean against the wall, but fall against it as he let out a long, weary sigh.
“It’s the hardest part of being a vet, telling people their pet’s—” Oliver’s words came to an abrupt halt. He stood up straight and seemed to give himself a shake, his face flushing as though he’d realised he was about to break client confidentiality. “So, how’s the patient?” He took a few steps forward, appraising Bingo.
“You wouldn’t think he’d been in the wars at all. In fact, the little sod’s milking it for all he’s worth. I’ve had to ask the café regulars to stop feeding him treats.”
Joss stared down at his dog, who was just starting to wake up, his short legs waggling as they stuck out at near right angles.
Oliver took another couple of steps in. This close, Joss could make out the faint, light aroma of cologne, fresh and slightly citrus yet combined with a deeper warmth, and cutting through the lingering smell of antiseptic. Joss breathed in. He liked it, he liked it very much. He kept his eyes glued to the top of Bingo’s head.
“I’m an advocate of keeping treats to a minimum, but I know it’s hard to resist when they look this cute.” Oliver cleared his throat, and Joss peeked up through his fringe. Oliver’s face was deep red as he stared hard at Bingo.
“I feel like a fake. Taking up your time when you’ve finished for the day. There are no signs of discomfort. From Bingo, I mean.”Ooohhh…Why had he said that?
“I’m sure you’re right, but best to check.” Oliver stepped back, the redness in his face concentrated into small round patches on his cheekbones.
Joss stared. Very nice, high, sharp cheekbones.
“Come through.” Oliver swung around, and Joss followed Oliver’s long legged stride into the consulting room.
Joss started to undo the carrier, but his fingers came to a stop when Oliver shook his head.
“It’ll be easier for all of us if you kept him where he is — he can’t wriggle around so much when he’s pinned hard against you, with his legs in the air.”
Joss blinked.Legs in the air…
“No. I suppose not.” He gave a raspy cough. Oliver’s comment, the accurate and innocent comment, was about hisdog.
Maybe Gran’s right, and I do need a boyfriend… Or just hit up some clubs and bars in a nearby town…Except there weren’t anynearbytowns…
“This looks much better.”
Oliver’s words jerked Joss back to the present, where his breath caught in his throat. Oliver was close, very, very close, and the scent of his cologne again filled and saturated Joss’ senses. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, unable to resist giving himself up to the moment. A hoarse and throaty cough brought him back, and his eyes snapped open.
Oliver was staring hard at him, the deep grey of his irises eaten up by the inky blackness of his pupils. For what could have been a second, a minute, or an hour, they stared at each other in the heavy silence of the consulting room. Deep in his chest, Joss’ heart crashed against his ribs and his blood whistled in his ears.
