Page 32 of Animal Instincts
It was an old and beaten-up copy, and Joss flicked through it. Passages were underlined, and notes filled the margin, the ink old and fading. Joss turned to the inside of the cover. Oliver had written his name and date; Joss did a quick calculation. Oliver had marked the book as his when he was sixteen or seventeen.
The door opened, and Joss jumped and swung around. His face burned. Holding the book, he felt exposed, caught out, as though Oliver had found him rummaging through cupboards and drawers.
“I was just looking…”
“That’s okay.” Oliver placed a tray on the coffee table, and came across. “What are you—?”
Oliver smiled when Joss held up the book.
“That was my bible. After the first time I read it — the first of at least ten times — I knew I wanted to be a country vet. It’s taken a bit of time, but here I am at last.”
“But why? That’s what I don’t get. London would be so much more… Oh, god. Sorry.” Joss cringed. “I mean, I’m glad you are, because if you didn’t want to practice in a rural area, you wouldn’t be here in the Harbour, and I wouldn’t be working for you, and… I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?”
Oliver huffed out a laugh. “Just keep on digging, it’s really quite amusing.”
“I’m sorry,” Joss mumbled.
“Don’t be.”
Oliver took the book from Joss, looking at it as he turned it in his hands.
“This book was all about dreams and ambitions. As soon as I’d finished my training, I planned to find a job in a country practice with the aim of setting up on my own when I got more experience under my belt. But it didn’t turn out that way because I got caught up in London. Or ensnared. The place was good to me in a lot of ways, and there’s no denying it’s exciting. But I needed to get out, for a lot of reasons. I’m not a city person at heart. It’s green fields I’ve always wanted, rather than concrete and car clogged roads.”
Oliver slotted the book back, and offered up a wonky smile.
“You want to escape to the city, whereas I wanted to escape from it. We’re the same in some ways, just opposite ends. Come on, or the coffee will get cold.”
As well as the cafetière, milk and the mugs, there was a plate with a messy-looking cake balanced on it.
“You bake?” What was that cookery for beginners book all about?
Oliver snorted. “I’m the man who was surviving on frozen meals, don’t forget. No, this came from Mrs. Ableson, an elderly—”
“Pepper.”
“Excuse me?” Oliver’s brow scrunched in confusion, and Joss couldn’t help laughing. He also couldn’t help the urge raging through him to run his fingertips over the furrows to smooth away Oliver’s frown.
“Pepper. Her budgie. One in a long line of budgies, all of whom are called Pepper.”
Oliver’s lips twitched. “I’ll have to remember that. Pepper is dead, long live Pepper.” He cut the cake into untidy wedges and handed a plate over. “She came around earlier today, wouldn’t take no seeing as I’d saved Pepper’s life.”
“And did you?”
“Of course. I’m the hot shot vet from London, after all.” Oliver smiled as he said it, but Joss didn’t miss the edge of bitterness.
They sat in silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire and the wind and the rain beating against the windows. The downpour had progressed to a full-on storm and Joss shivered as he thought about having to make his way home at some point. Because he couldn’t stay here. Could he…?
“I’ll give you a lift home. Don’t want to get a second drenching, do you?” Oliver’s tone was practical and matter of fact.
“No…” Joss put his crumb strewn plate down, deflated Oliver was already talking about him going. Perhaps it was for the best if he took up that offer of a lift now, before he got even more comfortable.
Joss pushed himself off the comfy, navy blue velvet sofa. “Suppose I’d better get a move on. I’ll get dressed.”Even though my clothes will be damp…
“What?” Oliver looked up at him, confusion shadowing his face.
“In case it gets worse — the roads around here flood easily.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Oliver’s confusion morphed into irritation. “I mean later, not now. Unless you want to go now, of course?”
