Then Came You by Jill Shalvis Page A

wasn’t used to the kudos.
    â€œWhy did you become a vet?” he finally asked, voice quiet.
    And just like his patients, she fell right into his eyes and tried to please him. “I’m a third generation,” she said. “My grandpa was an army sergeant turned vet.” She smiled at the memories of him. “There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness to him for people, but he had endless vats of it for an injured or sick animal. He inspired me.”
    Wyatt smiled. “Was it your mom or dad to follow the tradition?”
    â€œMy dad. He’s not army,” she said. “But he’s just as pragmatic and stoic as my grandpa was. He’s a rescuer, always was. He spent most of his career working for the local shelters, doing whatever needed to be done without much thought or care to anything else.” Like his personal life.
    Including his family.
    â€œMakes sense,” Wyatt said. “He was raised by a military man.” He paused. “It’s not easy to make a living working just the shelters.”
    â€œNo.” Though they’d always had the bare necessities, there’d definitely been a lack of comfort. “He doesn’t practice much anymore,” she said. “Hasn’t since my mom died.”
    Wyatt was quiet a moment, and she was extremely aware of his gaze on her face, and the fact that she’d given him a lot more than he’d given her.
    â€œBroken heart?” he asked.
    â€œMore like a lack of interest,” she said. “She was his drive. He still rescues animals though.”
    â€œI meant what I told Dell, you know,” Wyatt said. “You’re good. And it’s nice that you’re following your father’s footsteps. Nicer still that you’re taking the less obvious route by coming to Idaho instead of the Beverly Hills gig.”
    She could have just not said anything, but unlike him, she didn’t have a tier for acceptable lies. “I wanted the Beverly Hills gig.”
    Something changed in his eyes, but he didn’t say a word about her choices or the reasons for them. He merely gave her another smile. “Maybe things work out for a reason. Maybe you’ll like it out here.”
    â€œMaybe,” she said.
    And look at that. Apparently she had a tier for lies, after all.

Seven

    O ne week after Wyatt’s and Emily’s first real conversation in the staff room, he got up even earlier than usual and ran to the store for everything he needed. Then he dragged Darcy out of bed. Too tired to deal with her walker, he carried her down the hall to the kitchen.
    â€œWhat the—” she started grumpily, stopping when she saw the balloons, flowers, and blueberry muffins he’d just gotten.
    â€œOh, good catch,” she said yawning. “It’s Zoe’s birthday.”
    â€œYeah, and you’re going to help make a stupid big deal out of it.” Wyatt had long ago learned that the way to a woman’s heart was through gestures he didn’t always understand, so he knew enough not to question the power of celebrating a birthday in a huge way.
    This, through some trial and error over the years, had come to mean decorations no matter how “Hallmark,” and something delicious that wasn’t allowed on a normal day. Zoe had been claiming to be fighting five pounds all year, and had banned muffins from the house.
    But he knew she’d want one today, because according to her, calories didn’t exist on birthdays. Just like they didn’t exist for any dessert that had fruit in it.
    He shoved Darcy’s walker at her and gathered up all the decorations. Then he got them both down the hall and to Zoe’s room.
    There, they flipped on her light and sang “Happy Birthday” to her while she fought her tangled sheets to sit up, swearing at them the whole time.
    When that didn’t stop them from singing as loudly and off-key as they could—a sibling