Page 20 of The Knotheads Next Door
Something tells me the next few months are going to be a lot more complicated than any of us anticipated.
Damn it.
Chapter 7
Theo
I've always been a sucker for strays. It's why I became a vet, honestly. Not just because I love animals—though I do—but because there's something about a creature in need that makes my chest ache. Something that bypasses all my rational thoughts and goes straight to that primal alpha part of me that wants to protect.
Which is why, when I see Rowan kneeling on the side of Lakeside Drive in the rain, I brake so hard I nearly send my coffee flying.
At first, I think she's hurt. She's huddled over something, her hair plastered to her face, completely soaked despite the fact that it's only been raining for maybe ten minutes. But as I pull over and jump out of my car, I realize she's cradling something tiny and bedraggled against her chest.
"Rowan?" I call, jogging toward her. "Are you okay?"
She looks up, relief washing over her face when she sees me. "Theo! Thank God." Her voice is strained, almost breaking. "I found him in the ditch. He's so small, and I—I didn't know what to do."
She holds out her hands, and my heart squeezes. There, trembling in her palms, is quite possibly the tiniest, most pathetic kitten I've ever seen. It's orange and white, no bigger than my palm, soaking wet and covered in mud. Its eyes are barely open, and its breathing is rapid and shallow.
"He was just... crying," she says, and I realize her eyes are wet with more than rain. "I couldn't just leave him."
Something about the desperate, protective look on her face makes my alpha instincts go haywire. It's not just the kitten that needs saving; it's Rowan too, kneeling in the mud without a jacket, looking up at me with those big, worried eyes.
"Of course not," I say, crouching beside her. "You did the right thing. Here, let me see him."
She passes the kitten to me carefully, our hands brushing. I examine the tiny creature quickly—male, as she thought, probably around three weeks old. Far too young to be away from his mother. He's hypothermic and likely dehydrated, but his heart seems strong.
"Is he going to be okay?" Rowan asks, her voice small.
"He needs warmth and fluids," I say, already shrugging out of my jacket one-handed to wrap around her shoulders. "And probably some medicine. But his chances are good now that you found him."
The relief on her face is palpable. "Oh thank god. What should we do?"
"First, let's get you both out of the rain." I help her to her feet, my hand supporting her elbow.
"My car's right there. I've got a first aid kit at the clinic, but I think we should just go straight home. He needs warmth more than anything."
She nods, clutching my jacket tighter around herself. "Thank you. I was gonna call you before you drove by. I didn't know who else to call."
Something warm uncurls in my chest at the fact that she thought of me, even though we've only known each other a few days.
"It's what I do," I say, trying to sound casual. "Saving tiny creatures is literally my job description."
In the car, Rowan cradles the kitten against her chest, under my jacket. She murmurs to it softly, promises that it'll be okay, that she's got him now. I crank the heat up high and drive home as quickly as I safely can.
"Will Jasper and Wells be okay with this?" she asks suddenly, as if the thought just occurred to her. "I know it's your house, but bringing home an animal without asking..."
I wince slightly. "It'll be fine," I say, with more confidence than I feel. Jasper isn't exactly known for his flexibility when it comes to house matters. And Wells is allergic to most things with fur. "They'll understand it's an emergency."
She doesn't look convinced, but the kitten mewls weakly, recapturing her attention.
When we pull into the driveway, I see Jasper's truck is already home. Great. Just what we need—Grumpy Alpha vs. Rescue Kitten, round one.
"Let me do the talking," I tell Rowan as we head up the porch steps. "And maybe try to look... I don't know, less like you're already emotionally bonded to that kitten."
She attempts to rearrange her face into something less openly adoring as she looks down at the tiny bundle in her hands, but it's a lost cause. She's already fallen hard for the little guy, and it's written all over her face.
The moment we step inside, Jasper's voice calls from the living room: "That you, Theo? Did you pick up the—" He appears in the doorway, stopping short when he sees us—me with an armful of vet supplies I grabbed from my trunk, Rowan soakingwet despite my jacket, holding something that makes a pathetic mewling sound.
