Animal Magnetism: Falling For The Vet Next Door

“Ah, the truth emerges,” Gage said, lowering his head to speak into the basset hound’s ear. “A pat on the rump and canned meat byproducts, and she thinks she’s got you under control.”

With a choking sound, Brooke stopped in her tracks. “Then you do think I’m not being good enough to him?”

“I think he’s lonely. Why can’t he be at the shop with you?” Gage asked, sounding more curious than judgmental. “It’s his second home. Customers would give him the extra attention he’s used to getting.”

Brooke understood that Humphrey was a replacement for her in many ways, now that she was an adult and unable to visit Aunt Marsha as often as she would like. She also grasped that animal care was Gage’s calling, but that didn’t mean he or anyone else had a right to put a guilt trip on her. She did that well enough without any help. “Not everyone and everything should or can revolve around Humphrey, Doctor.”

“Gage.”

Ignoring his mischievous reply, she continued, “You probably don’t think there’s much to running a florist—”

“I didn’t say that.”

His tone was quiet, even gentle, which made Brooke press her lips together as she accepted that she’d jumped to conclusions again. “What I mean is that it’s taken every bit of my attention and ability to get arrangement orders filled, what with the store being busier than ever, now that one of the other two florists in town has retired and closed down her business. Don’t get me wrong, Naomi has been good to come out of retirement to help in emergencies, and Kiki is managing the front just fine on her own, but—”

“I thought you worked at the shop when you visited?”

“When I was a child. I could put a single rosebud in a vase with a sprig of baby’s breath or a fern. In time I learned a few more things, but I’ve forgotten most of that, and styles change. The point I’m trying to make is, first and foremost, I’m here for my aunt, not to entertain a dog. Then there’s the matter of the doors opening every few minutes. I’d be a wreck if I’m constantly checking to make sure someone didn’t inadvertently let Humphrey out into the street.”

Gage nodded, then began walking again. “You should have called me and told me you were struggling. I would have told you to drop him off at the clinic. He’d fit right in with Roy and the boys.”

It was that simple? “I’m afraid I don’t know who they are.” Boys? Her aunt hadn’t said anything about children, and he’d just said he was single.

“Roy Quinn is my manager,” Gage said, amusement entering his voice again. “Anywhere else, he’d be called a receptionist, but he tends to get all puffy and glares if he’s called that—and he has the Neanderthal eyebrows to do it. Besides, he does too much other stuff for such a restrictive title. He could be a full-fledged technician, but he balks at fulfilling the necessary requirements to get certified.”

“Stubborn. I see why you think Humphrey would fit in.”

After a soft chuckle, Gage admitted, “There’s no denying he can be. But behind all of that gruff exterior, he’s mostly a teddy bear. He’s sure been a welcome change from the young ladies who thought the receptionist job was step one to becoming Mrs. Sullivan.”

“Awkward,” Brooke said with a nod, able to finally speak from experience and sympathy. She’d witnessed enough behavior like that in her professional world, where some girls only went to college to find the wealthiest husband possible. “Then again, I don’t know what options girls have out here where the pickings are undoubtedly slimmer. A big-hearted, patient doctor must seem like a fairy tale come true.”

“You left out cute.”

His charm was potent, and Brooke had to work at keeping her expression benign. “Definitely cute.” But not willing to venture any farther down Flirtation Lane with him, she asked, “So is it Roy who has the sons? They help out at the clinic, too?”

“Say what?” After a brief, confused look, Gage uttered a low, “Ah! The boys I was referring to are his military veteran pals. Roy’s single, too, and his one request in taking the job was for me to allow a table and chairs in the corner of the reception room. He has some VFW buddies who like to congregate daily. The male version of the female coffee klatch of old. They’d already been run out of the local donut shop, and the grocery’s deli department, and they’d worn out their welcome in the bank’s lobby.”

“Are they all single, too?”

“Not quite. One has a wife in a nursing home, but her Alzheimer’s is so advanced that he can’t bear to spend more than a few minutes a day with her. Another is divorced—and that’s not a bad thing, as far as he’s concerned. The rest are widowers.”

“Well, it’s another testament to your generosity and goodwill that you’re so accommodating,” Brooke said.

“They’re not in the way,” Gage replied with a dismissive shrug. “Interestingly, after their military service, they were all farmers or businessmen in the area, so they pretty much know everyone who comes in and can supply me with a wealth of background information on clients and their livestock if I’m not familiar with someone.”

Brooke could see both the pros and cons of their arrangement. “Were you, by chance, in the military, too?” she asked as they turned into her aunt’s driveway. “I sense respect as much as affection when you speak about them.”

“I spent eight years in the U.S. Army Reserves.”

His almost apologetic reply won a quick glance from her. “What? That’s noble, too.”

Gage took several seconds to answer. “The guys ribbed me about it at first. It was the usual taunting about trying to avoid active duty, which I wasn’t. I took that route to get through school and get my practice established. It was only after they learned what a trial it had been not to lose my business that they really rallied behind me. We’re pretty much one big mutual-admiration society now.”

Sensing that he’d been modest and had struggled greatly, Brooke felt humbled. “Here I’ve been feeling sorry for myself because I’ve lost my job, thanks to government regulations, and can’t interview for a new one because I’m here helping Aunt Marsha, and all the while you’ve endured much heavier and dangerous burdens.” With new respect and concern, she asked, “Is there a chance you’ll have to go away again?”

“Nah, I finished up a couple years ago. As much as I gained from the experience, it was tough on my clients, as well as the friends who donated their time to keep the clinic running. I’m relieved, too. You know how hot it gets in Texas, but that’s nothing compared to the Middle Eastern deserts. It’s not an endurance test I ever want to go through again, especially at my age.”

“Right, all that gray hair is practically glowing like neon in the moonlight,” Brooke said, matching his easygoing tone. If he did have any gray hair, she had yet to notice it, even in daylight, amid the various shades of brown and gold.

“Hey, I have all of the scars and aches that come with this profession.”

Brooke paused at the gate. “Still very young for having experienced as much as you have. Thank you for sharing that. Also for your time. It helps me better understand why Aunt Marsha speaks of you with such affection—and not just because you saved her countless hours of suffering after her fall.”

“I’m partial to her, too.” Gage stroked Humphrey soothingly as he waited for her to open the gate. “She’s helped me every bit as much as I may have her. She keeps an eye on things when I’m not around. Did she tell you about how she called me one morning on my cell phone? I’d already left to get an early start at the clinic and she’d spotted a squirrel gnawing its way into my attic. By the time I could return home, the critter was inside and had almost chewed through wires in two spots. That could easily have resulted in a costly fire if left untended.”

While cute enough in cartoons and on greeting cards, the creatures were rats with couture tails, to Brooke’s thinking. “Doesn’t that make you want to cut down all of the nut-bearing trees around here to force them to move?”

As Gage threw back his head, his laugh filled the humid night air. “Are you sure you were born in Texas? Nature may not be perfect, but we civilized folks aren’t, either.”

“At least we don’t carry fleas and diseases.”

“You mean you’ve never had the flu? Chicken pox? Measles?”

Brooke should have known better than to criticize creatures in front of such a devoted animal lover. “Okay, okay, I get your point.” She began reaching for the basset hound, only to see Gage step out of her reach and nod toward the house.

“How about I set this old boy inside for you? I have a feeling that if you put him down after we close this gate, he’ll just waddle straight for the hole and crawl under the fence again.”

“Good thought.” Brooke made a mental note to get the key to her aunt’s storage shed first thing in the morning and get a shovel to close that latest exit spot.

Once she unlocked the back door, Gage set the placid hound on the hardwood floor. By the time he’d shut it behind Humphrey, Brooke had removed his jacket and handed it over to him.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, as she discreetly crossed her arms over her chest again. “You’re as much a gentleman as you are a lifesaver.”

“I meant what I said about bringing Humph to the clinic. His species may have been bred for work, but in the end he’s quite the social animal. I can guarantee you that he’ll be coddled and get plenty of exercise. By the time you finish at the shop daily, he’ll be as grateful as you are to get home and crash on his doggy bed.”

“Let me run the idea by Aunt Marsha,” Brooke said, to buy herself a little more time. Gage’s idea did sound like a gift to her sanity, but would Aunt Marsha approve? “Remember, it could be some weeks before she gets to come home. This isn’t your usual broken hip. There was extra repair work to do. It might be several days before she’s even ready to relocate to the rehab facility.”

Gage shook his head in sympathy. “For such an active lady, that will exasperate her. When I first bought my place, she was about your size, which I still think is Tinker Bell tiny, and in the past year, I know she’s lost a good ten pounds that she can’t afford.”

His visual perceptions served him as well as his instincts obviously did. “This is probably no surprise, but she does have osteoporosis issues.”

“I worried it was something like that.”

Sensitive to his increasingly searching gaze, Brooke reached for the doorknob, hoping he would take the hint. “Thank you again, and for so much, Doc. Gage,” she amended at his gently reproachful look.

“You are more than welcome. It was good to spend a little while with my favorite neighbor’s favorite niece instead of settling for a wave as we dash for our vehicles in the morning.”

They had been leaving earlier than everyone else in the neighborhood. “Yes, it was. But it’s only niece. I was the sole yield from my parents’ short but loving marriage.”

“Nicely put and poetic for a math head.” At her grimace, he added, “Did you think that if your aunt has been bragging about you that she’d leave out how smart you are?”

“I guess not. It’s a wonder that she hasn’t set me up with an account on some online-dating site.”

Gage shook his head. “She wouldn’t do that. She’s too protective of you. Do you miss not having any siblings?”

“Sometimes. But it was nice having all of the attention, too. You?”

“Two sisters and three brothers. Privacy was the challenge in our house, since I was number five out of six kids. Fortunately, I lack most ingredients required to be a type A personality.”

“I can’t imagine… I mean, having that many siblings.” Along with being an only child, she’d spent the second half of her childhood with little time for fun or friendships, what with her father directing her extracurricular activities as much as her school focus. Faced with the reality that he would have only one child, he had been a veritable Tiger Mom, as hands-on as though he’d been managing a lab project, determined to make her the best at what he directed her toward. Only since having her job liquidated when proprietary trading won the government’s evil eye did it strike her that focusing so determinedly on networking might have served a purpose, but it had left her emotionally vacant compared to what family and friendship provided. Experience had also taught her sobering lessons on the difference between friends and acquaintances.

“Are you okay?”

Pulled back to the present, Brooke saw that Gage was studying her with unusual intensity, despite the hint of a smile curving his inviting lips. That smile was a ruse, she realized. It was meant to hide how serious he’d suddenly become. Well, she didn’t need all that magnetism directed at her.

“Fine,” she assured him, flashing him an equally deceptive but brighter smile. “You just made me realize that I’d promised to report on Aunt Marsha’s condition to my father, which is going to be a challenge since I’m not even sure what time zone he’s in.”

“He sounds like one of the original wheeler-dealers.”

How much of that side of their lives had Aunt Marsha shared? “He’s an unapologetic workaholic.” It was on the tip of her tongue to add with no small self-deprecation, “And I’m afraid this acorn didn’t fall far from the tree.” It was only the cold chill that ran through her—a chill that belied the sultry night’s warmth—that had her editing herself in the last second. Instead, she whispered in entreaty, “I really need to get inside.”

Gage took a halfhearted step backward. “Don’t hesitate to holler if you need my Sherlock services again.”

With a wave, Brooke hurried inside and, upon closing the door, she quickly twisted the wand to shut the miniblinds. Only then did she exhale her relief. What on earth was she doing almost making such admissions to a near stranger? Had she been subjected to some version of dog psychiatry, hypnotism or what? She glanced over her shoulder, taking in Humphrey’s resigned look.

“Please don’t put me in this position again. I don’t have the time, understand? Not for you or him. You’re both sweethearts—I get it—but I’m not in the market for anything like that, so behave!”

By seven forty-five Wednesday morning, Gage was up front at Sweet Springs Animal Clinic enjoying a rare extra cup of coffee with the old-timers and Roy before the early-bird clients arrived to drop off a beloved pet for some procedure, or were overeager to pick one up after an overnight stay. However, the first person to pull in was Brooke Bellamy.

As the others began noticing her flashy, metallic-silver BMW convertible that shouted her previous professional success, a rush of pleasure swept through him. So, he thought, she’d not only approached Marsha about his suggestion, his sweetheart of a neighbor had given her blessing. He would have to send Marsha a bouquet in gratitude for assisting him in gaining more access to her lovely niece.

“Be still, my heart…” drawled sixty-six-year-old Jerry Platt, who sat closest to the window. Retired from the air force and divorced, he was considered the “kid” in the group and frequently taunted the others with tales of his romantic escapades—true or not. “Say, isn’t that Marsha Newman’s niece? Wow…. She grew up to be a pretty little thing.”

“Looks a lot like her aunt,” Stan Walsh replied. Stan was sixty-nine and an old navy man turned sheet-metal fabricator. He’d passed his business over to his son earlier in the year following the death of his wife. “Every bit the lady, too, from what I hear, so behave, Platt.”

“Did she ever marry?” Pete Ogilvie asked, craning his head to watch as Brooke went around to the passenger door to let Humphrey out. The eighty-two-year-old ex-marine and widower was the oldest in the group and still looked the part of the rancher he’d been. “What is she now? Twenty-nine? Thirty? Back in my day, a girl would be afraid to be called an old maid if she hadn’t hooked a guy by then. Good for her, I say. You have to be pretty successful to afford wheels like that. What’s to want in today’s crop of guys anyway? Present company excluded, Doc,” he quickly added.

“No offense taken,” Gage replied, although he did plan to keep a close eye on that wily fox Jerry Platt.

Having waited patiently for his turn to speak, Warren Atwood said, “Back in your day, telephone operators sat in front of circuit boards, you old dinosaur.” The intellectual seventy-year-old had gone on from the U.S. Army to being the D.A. of Cherokee County. His wife was at the community’s nursing home in the advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. It was only his closest friends who knew what a toll that was taking on him.

“All right, you guys,” Roy Quinn said, as Gage put down his mug to go welcome Brooke. “Behave yourselves for a minute. She’s not going to be as used to your nonsense as we are.”

Gage barely heard him as he pushed through the two sets of doors. Reaching the fresh air, he saw Brooke look up and give him a ready-or-not shrug and smile. She looked as fresh as the posies she worked with in her three-quarter-sleeve teal silk top and matching slacks. The gold earrings and necklace added another layer of elegance. With her blond hair deftly swept up into an artful knot, he knew that, inside, jaws were slack with admiration. She did powerful things to him, too.

“Good to see you.” The words felt slow and heavy to his ears, but then his tongue felt as if someone had poured concrete in his mouth.

“You, too,” Brooke replied with visible relief. “I was half afraid last night’s offer was sheer politeness on your part. As it happened, I had to drop off some papers at the hospital this morning, and when I peeked in on my aunt she was wide-awake, and we had a quick chat.” As Gage held the door for her, she led Humphrey inside the green steel building.

“So she gave her blessing?” It fascinated Gage that as her nerves grew more visible, his eased. He even touched the small of her back, unable to resist stealing some tiny physical contact for private savoring later.

“Blessing?” Stan asked from across the room, his hand to his ear. His years on an aircraft carrier and in a sheet metal shop had all but destroyed his hearing. “Did they get engaged? I thought she just got back in town?”

“Shut up, you fool,” Pete replied, swatting at his arm with the editorial section of the Tyler Morning News. “What kind of eavesdropper are you?”

“My hearing-aid battery must be giving out.”

Brooke sent the men a bemused glance, then said to Gage, “She did—and said to tell you that she’ll make you her renowned apple crumble as soon as she gets back on her feet.”

Gage uttered a throaty groan of pleasure, then crouched to pet the basset hound, who was wagging his tail cautiously, not sure if this was an official visit or what. “Relax, Humph. You’re about to be spoiled rotten, just like when you’re at the flower shop.”

He unclipped the lead from the dog’s collar, after which Humphrey shook his whole body, clearly relishing the freedom in this, of all places. Brooke, on the other hand, looked anything but reassured.

“You’re certain it’s going to be okay for him to run free like that?” She looked unconvinced as she rolled up the blue nylon leash around her hand.

Gage rose, knowing they had precious few minutes left—and not even private ones—before the parking lot started to fill. He wanted to tell her that he liked her hair up. It showed off her slender neck so much that his fingers itched to caress the baby-fine hair there and her even finer skin. She was exceedingly fair for this time of year, but on her the look worked. However, the sum of all of her delicate parts didn’t fool him: inside that petite body was a backbone of pure steel and a strong will to match it. The irony was that just made her all the more irresistible.

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t—nor goes outside without supervision.” Gage then addressed the others. “Everybody, this is Brooke, my neighbor—although you probably already know that.”

“We do,” Jerry said, as the others waved and called greetings. “How’s Marsha, darlin’?”

“Still in a lot of pain from the surgery. Thank you for asking. But she’s determined not to depend long on that walker they’re forcing her to use.”

“She’s a fighter. Give her our best.”

“I will.” Brooke turned back to Gage, worry creasing the smooth skin between her finely arching tawny eyebrows. “As I drove here, it hit me. We close at the same time, but occasionally I’ll have to wait on Charles—our delivery man—to return the store’s van. Or you may have to leave on a call. How do we work this?”

Acutely aware of all eyes on him, Gage shrugged to show as little concern as possible. “If you’re running late, give me a call, and if I have to leave for an emergency, Roy can wait for you, can’t you?” he asked him.

“Sure, boss.” Roy expanded on his answer directly to Brooke. “We tend to hang around after hours with whomever stops by. Not to worry, Ms. Bellamy. From here on, Humph will be treated as family.”

Although looking far more confident about the arrangement, Brooke remained poised and formal as she stepped to the counter and offered her hand. “That’s very kind, since I feel as though I’m taking advantage. You’re Roy? Please call me Brooke.”

When Roy’s brown eyes all but glazed over under the full effect of her warm smile, Gage took hold of Brooke’s elbow. “I’ll walk you out.”

He ignored the feeling of daggers pricking at his back as they exited the building, but he didn’t care. A familiar truck was coming down the service road and he knew it was heading here. Another hectic day was about to commence, and he wanted these last precious seconds with her to be his alone.

“I saw that you beat me to filling the hole Humphrey dug last night,” Brooke said, pausing at the driver’s door. “You’re being too good to me.”

“It didn’t take more than a minute. I was concerned that you might forget and he would take advantage.”

“Is that really black pepper you spread over the area?”

“It is. I often tell people to spread it over their pets’ graves to repel varmints from trying to dig them up. It should work to thwart Humph from another escape, too.” As the sunshine lit flecks of gold in her brown eyes, Gage felt something akin to hunger pangs grip his stomach. “At the risk of embarrassing you… You look particularly beautiful this morning.”

After another of those cautious pauses that Gage was starting to recognize, Brooke’s shimmering lips curved into a private smile. “A woman who can’t accept a compliment is out of her mind. Thank you.” She reached for the door handle. “I do have to hurry, though. Kiki has a dental appointment in an hour.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you later. What are you doing for dinner?” It was foolish to ask, since he could easily be dealing with emergency farm calls by then, but he couldn’t resist.

“I’ll grab some takeout and go keep Aunt Marsha company as she has her supper.”

The look she gave him from under her long eyelashes added a warning not to pursue what he was intent on achieving. Nevertheless, he needed for her to know that he was determined, too. “What about a glass of wine afterward?”

“By then I’ll be totally drained and my feet will be killing me. The only thing I’ll want to do is kick off these shoes, have a soothing shower and collapse in bed.”

Gage glanced down at the cork-and-leather platform sandals that added a good three inches or so to her height. “Very pretty, but why on earth don’t you wear something—?”

“More sensible?” Brooke offered when he abruptly edited himself.

“I would have tried for ‘less dangerous.’”

“Very diplomatic. But I’ve worn heels since I was in junior high. Couldn’t wait for my first pair. When you’re practically the runt in the entire school, you don’t mind taking a few risks to fit in better.”

Gage suspected that she would always stand out regardless, and guessed that any grief she took was more about jealousy than her petite size. “I guess in your male-dominated profession, you liked being taller because the guys tried to make you feel insecure even without the height disadvantage?” When she offered a one-shouldered shrug that suggested it was a moot point, he added, “Well, with or without the extra inches, I think you’re—”