Page 22 of Stunner (Whiskey Dolls 3)

Her honey gaze went wide with fear. “But-but. I don’t—I’m not—I’ve never—”

I moved to the cabinet on the back wall, yanking the door open and grabbing the medicine I needed. “You can do this, baby,” I assured her as I filled a hypodermic needle. “I’ll talk you through every step. But you’re his only shot. I can’t do this on my own, and there’s no time to call for help.”

Asher closed her eyes tight and gave her shoulders a shake while exhaling a long, steady breath through her pursed lips, like she was psyching herself up. Finally, her gaze met mine again, and she nodded. “Okay. I think I can do this. Tell me what you need me to do.”

11

ASHER

Isat out on the long, narrow balcony that extended half the length of Owen’s apartment above the vet clinic, staring out at the dark sky as the stars began to blink to life. Gus was at my side, my hand hanging off the arm of the Adirondack chair so I could lazily rub his head. I’d lost track of time since Owen had sent us both up here so he could finish up with the dog downstairs, but the adrenaline I’d been riding on for the past couple hours had finally worn off, leaving me shaky and worn out.

I felt like I could close my eyes and sleep the whole night away right where I sat while feeling something wholly different at the same time, something that made me antsy and a bit anxious. It was a feeling I got every time I remembered back to how confident Owen had been with that poor dog.

I knew he was favored by the pet lovers in our town and the bordering ones, but this was the first time I’d had an up close and personal show, and it was something else, to say the least.

He was so competent while still maintaining a level of compassion for his patient. While I helped him set the dog’s leg and stitch the gaping wound, he’d spoken gentle, soothing words in a low, rumbly voice. Even though the poor little guy was outlike a light so Owen could take care of him, he talked to the dog in a way that comforted even me.

His hands were steady the entire time, his face set with determination. He knew exactly what he was doing, and there was just something about it that was so... damn...hot. I’d nearly objected when he sent Gus and me upstairs, wanting to stay with him partially so I could keep an eye on the dog—I felt a certain level of responsibility for the little guy—while also ogling the sexy doctor.

Now I totally understood why there were so many single women in this town with multiple pets.

I let out a sigh and lifted the beer I’d pilfered from Owen’s fridge then took a sip as more and more stars burst to life, speckling the sky. As if to mimic me, Gus let out a doggyhumphfrom beside me, drawing my attention.

“So, I guess your daddy’s kind of a hero, huh?”

He looked up at me, his mouth partially open in a way that looked almost like he was smiling as he gave his tail a single thump in the affirmative on the wooden slats that made up the floor of the balcony.

“Yeah,” I breathed out in defeat. “I figured. Damn it.” The last thing I needed was yetanotherreason to be drawn to this man.

On that thought, the door behind me creaked open, and I turned just as Owen stepped out onto the balcony. He looked exhausted, his hair even more rumpled than usual and that standard five o’clock shadow thicker than I usually saw it. But the man still somehow managed to make exhaustion look hot as hell.

His head came up, those spring green eyes—no less dazzling at night than they were in the daytime—flared a bit at the sight of me. “Hey, you’re still here.”

He was still dressed in his scrubs, his tattoos on full display, giving him that bad boy edge under the clothes of a healer. It wasone hell of a combination, that was for sure. “I am,” I said, my voice coming out a bit thick and throatier than I’d intended.

He moved to the chair beside mine and practically fell into it with a weary sigh, closing his eyes and dropping his head back against the chair. “Thought you might have stolen my dog and taken off.”

“Jackson told you about that, huh?”

He only peeked one eye open to slide over to me, the corner of his mouth hooking up in a lazy smirk. “Yep.”

The jackass. “I didn’t steal your dog this time around, but I did take one of your beers.” I lifted the half-full bottle. “Hope that’s okay.”

“Fine with me. Hell. I should’ve thought to grab one myself before coming out here. I’m too tired to move.”

I was on my feet without a second’s thought. “I’ll get it for you.”

“You don’t have to,” he started to protest.

I placed my hand on his shoulder to stop him. “It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done.”

I was on the move before he could object again, pushing my way through the door and heading into his kitchen like I owned the place, despite it only being the second time I’d stepped foot inside. That was how it felt to me. How he made it feel. It was a home, not a showpiece or something to flaunt in front of his so-called friends and family. This was home, a place designed for comfort. It was where you could come after a long, hard day to kick back and unwind comfortably. Whether he’d decorated it to feel that way intentionally or not, that was the vibe I got, and I really liked it.

With his beer in hand, I joined him on the balcony.

“Thanks,” he grunted, twisting the cap off the bottle and giving it a flick onto the table on his other side. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank down a quarter of the bottle before lettingout a satisfied “Ahh.” Until that moment I hadn’t realized it was possible to find a man’s throat sexy. I was learning all kinds of new things today. He tracked my movement as I rounded the Adirondack and resumed my seat. “That my shirt you’re wearing?”

Until that moment, I’d forgotten I’d also helped myself to a button-down I found in his closet. “Yeah, sorry. I was on my way home from rehearsal when everything went down. I got some of the dog’s blood on my yoga top and didn’t have a change of clothes with me, and I think it goes without saying that the sweatshirt I had in my car is pretty much ruined. I hope you don’t mind.”

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