Page 59 of Wishing Hearts

Sam is cute, all boyish charm, almost, and, yes, a literal bounce to his step. But he’s also sexy, attentive, endlessly patient, and the things that come out of his mouth…

“I’m meeting him for lunch,” I tell Deborah, who, after all these years, is my closest friend. I never really bothered making friends outside of work after I moved to this town with an infant Winnie. I was too focused on surviving. On figuring out how to juggle the sudden influx of responsibilities in my life. Friends weren’t a priority. Neither were boyfriends.

But there’s Deborah. We’ve worked together for nearly a decade now, and she knows me better than most.

She bounces her eyebrows. “Right. You’re meetin’ him for lunch. I’m sure that’ll be the only thing goin’ in your mouth.”

“Jesus, Deb,” I groan, glancing at the door. “Don’t let Abbott hear you say things like that. The man would have a coronary.”

She waves her fork in the air. “You and I both know he’s too stubborn to let somethin’ like a little heart trouble take him down. He’ll outlast us all.”

I shudder at the thought, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

“Does he like your kid?” Deborah asks seriously, redirecting the conversation back to Sam.

“And how do you know he already met her?” I retort.

She raises a brow. “Because of the way you looked at him. You like that man, Harrison.”

Yeah, I do.

“He’s good with her,” I answer, a little smile tugging at my lips.

“Good,” Deborah says with a firm nod.

Tessa, one of our vet techs, sticks her head inside the door. “Doctor Bailey?”

“Yeah?” I answer.

“Your eleven o’clock isn’t showin’. They just called to cancel.”

“Thanks, Tessa.”

She nods before backing out the door, and I hop to my feet. “Looks like I’m out of here,” I tell Deborah.

She chuckles, waving her fork at me in a goodbye. “Have fun,” she singsongs.

I grab the lunch I prepared for Sam and me and hoof it out the door, shooting Sam a quick text on the way to my truck to let him know I’ll be early. I glance at the picture he sent one more time as his responding message comes through.

Sammy: See you soon, stud.

Smile on my face, I get into my truck and reverse out of my spot.

It takes just over twenty-five minutes to arrive at the Animal Control facility where Sam works. I park in front of the building, and I can hear the barking of dogs even before I’ve turned off the vehicle. It’s a warm, sunny day in the seventies, and I grab my hat just in case we’ll be outside. I keep one in my truck at all times, and it comes in handy often, especially on the days I visit large animal farms.

Admittedly, I could easily use a baseball cap instead, but one of my first purchases when I arrived in Texas for vet school sixteen years ago was a black leather cowboy hat. That thing went with me everywhere, and not only was it useful, but it made me feel more at home in a new place that was so far from my family.

I’m not a born Texan, but I sure am one by choice. And I think that’s what matters most, like Sam said. Our choices.

When I push inside the building, Tilda is the first person I see. She’s seated behind a check-in counter next to a large glass wall that offers a peek at the inside of a cat room. Dozens of felines are inside, as well as a few people, and the sight of a little girl waving a feathered wand in the air to get the attention of a nearby kitten has a smile on my face in no time.

“Well, hey there, Doctor Bailey,” Tilda says. “What a surprise.”

Judging by her tone and beaming smile, I don’t think it’s a surprise at all. Regardless, I smile and step forward. “Hi, Tilda. It’s good to see you again. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, just fine,” she says. “Glad to be back home, though. You here to see our Sammy?”

I give her a nod, holding up the bag in my hand. “I brought lunch.”

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