passed, then filled out the paperwork while Molly wandered the room.
Less than a minute later, the door opened and the first thing Gabby noticed was the white smock; an instant later, the name embroidered in blue letters. Gabby was just about to speak, but sudden recognition made it impossible.
“Hi, Gabby,” Travis said. “How are you?”
Gabby continued to stare, wondering what on earth he was doing here. She was about to say something when she realized that his eyes were blue, when she’d thought they were brown. Strange. Still—
“I take it this is Molly,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “Hey, girl . . .” He squatted and rubbed Molly’s neck. “You like that? Oh, you’re a sweet one, aren’t you? How you feeling, girl?”
The sound of his voice brought her back, and memories of their argument the other night followed. “You’re—you’re the vet?” Gabby stammered.
Travis nodded as he continued to scratch Molly’s neck. “Along with my dad. He started the clinic, I joined him after I finished school.”
This couldn’t be happening. Of all the people in this town, it had to be him. Why on earth couldn’t she have an ordinary, uncomplicated day?
“Why didn’t you say anything the other night?”
“I did. I told you to bring her to the vet, remember?”
Her eyes narrowed. The man seemed to enjoy infuriating her. “You know what I mean.”
He looked up. “You mean about me being the vet? I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me.”
“You should have said something anyway.”
“I don’t think you were in any mood to hear it. But that’s water under the bridge. No hard feelings.” He smiled. “Let me check this girl out, okay? I know you have to get back to work, so I’ll make this quick.”
She could feel her anger rising at his nonchalant “No hard feelings .” Part of her wanted to leave right then. Unfortunately, he was already beginning to prod Molly’s belly. Nor, she realized, could she rise quickly, even if she tried, since right now her legs seemed to be on strike. Chagrined, she crossed her arms and felt something akin to a knife blade plunging into her back and shoulders while Travis readied the stethoscope. She bit her lip, proud of the fact she hadn’t yelped again.
Travis glanced at her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“You sure? You seem like you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
Ignoring her tone, he returned his attention to the dog. He moved the stethoscope, listened again, then examined one of her nipples. Finally, he slipped on a rubber glove with a snap and did a quick internal.
“Well, she’s definitely pregnant,” he said, removing the glove and tossing it into the bin. “And from the looks of things, she’s about seven weeks along.”
“I told you.” She glared at him. And Moby is responsible, she refrained from adding.
Travis stood and put the stethoscope back into his pocket. He reached for the clipboard and flipped the page.
“Just so you know, I’m pretty sure Moby’s not responsible.”
“Oh, no?”
“No. Most likely it’s that Labrador I’ve seen around the neighborhood. I think he’s old man Cason’s, but I’m not positive about that. It might be his son’s dog. I know he’s back in town.”
“What makes you so sure it’s not Moby?”
He started making notes, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure he’d heard her.
He shrugged. “Well, for one thing, he’s been neutered.”
There are moments when mental overload can render words impossible. All at once, Gabby saw a mortifying montage of herself babbling and crying and finally storming off in a huff. She did have a vague memory of him trying to tell her something, all of which served to make her feel queasy.
“Neutered?” she whispered.
“Uh-huh.” He looked up from the clipboard. “Two years ago. My dad did it here in the office.”
“Oh . . .”
“I tried to tell you that, too. But you left before I had a
Less than a minute later, the door opened and the first thing Gabby noticed was the white smock; an instant later, the name embroidered in blue letters. Gabby was just about to speak, but sudden recognition made it impossible.
“Hi, Gabby,” Travis said. “How are you?”
Gabby continued to stare, wondering what on earth he was doing here. She was about to say something when she realized that his eyes were blue, when she’d thought they were brown. Strange. Still—
“I take it this is Molly,” he said, interrupting her thoughts. “Hey, girl . . .” He squatted and rubbed Molly’s neck. “You like that? Oh, you’re a sweet one, aren’t you? How you feeling, girl?”
The sound of his voice brought her back, and memories of their argument the other night followed. “You’re—you’re the vet?” Gabby stammered.
Travis nodded as he continued to scratch Molly’s neck. “Along with my dad. He started the clinic, I joined him after I finished school.”
This couldn’t be happening. Of all the people in this town, it had to be him. Why on earth couldn’t she have an ordinary, uncomplicated day?
“Why didn’t you say anything the other night?”
“I did. I told you to bring her to the vet, remember?”
Her eyes narrowed. The man seemed to enjoy infuriating her. “You know what I mean.”
He looked up. “You mean about me being the vet? I tried to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me.”
“You should have said something anyway.”
“I don’t think you were in any mood to hear it. But that’s water under the bridge. No hard feelings.” He smiled. “Let me check this girl out, okay? I know you have to get back to work, so I’ll make this quick.”
She could feel her anger rising at his nonchalant “No hard feelings .” Part of her wanted to leave right then. Unfortunately, he was already beginning to prod Molly’s belly. Nor, she realized, could she rise quickly, even if she tried, since right now her legs seemed to be on strike. Chagrined, she crossed her arms and felt something akin to a knife blade plunging into her back and shoulders while Travis readied the stethoscope. She bit her lip, proud of the fact she hadn’t yelped again.
Travis glanced at her. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said.
“You sure? You seem like you’re in pain.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
Ignoring her tone, he returned his attention to the dog. He moved the stethoscope, listened again, then examined one of her nipples. Finally, he slipped on a rubber glove with a snap and did a quick internal.
“Well, she’s definitely pregnant,” he said, removing the glove and tossing it into the bin. “And from the looks of things, she’s about seven weeks along.”
“I told you.” She glared at him. And Moby is responsible, she refrained from adding.
Travis stood and put the stethoscope back into his pocket. He reached for the clipboard and flipped the page.
“Just so you know, I’m pretty sure Moby’s not responsible.”
“Oh, no?”
“No. Most likely it’s that Labrador I’ve seen around the neighborhood. I think he’s old man Cason’s, but I’m not positive about that. It might be his son’s dog. I know he’s back in town.”
“What makes you so sure it’s not Moby?”
He started making notes, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure he’d heard her.
He shrugged. “Well, for one thing, he’s been neutered.”
There are moments when mental overload can render words impossible. All at once, Gabby saw a mortifying montage of herself babbling and crying and finally storming off in a huff. She did have a vague memory of him trying to tell her something, all of which served to make her feel queasy.
“Neutered?” she whispered.
“Uh-huh.” He looked up from the clipboard. “Two years ago. My dad did it here in the office.”
“Oh . . .”
“I tried to tell you that, too. But you left before I had a
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