Animal Magnetism: Falling For The Vet Next Door

“Marsha was concerned for you. She always felt you worked too hard.”

“I liked being good at what I do.”

“Same here. Only not if it starts to dictate almost every waking hour of my day.”

Brooke couldn’t help but be dubious. “Really? Aunt Marsha has talked about you, too, and when she wasn’t calling you a dog whisperer, she was describing a twenty-first century Dr. Doolittle. Do you mean to tell me that there isn’t a house full of cats and birds, fish, turtles and maybe a monkey over in that house of yours?”

He lived in a two-story colonial, but without the extra gingerbread-style ornamentation that adorned her aunt’s Texas Victorian home. Painted a country blue with white trim, it was well tended, and the metal storage building in back looked large enough to keep a vehicle, as well as any yard equipment he might own.

“Want to come over and find out?” Gage teased, breaking into her thoughts.

Charisma emanated from those blue-gray eyes as his gaze locked with hers. Whenever he looked at her, she felt as though he was analyzing every atom of her being. When he openly challenged her, as he now did, she became all but mesmerized.

Tearing her gaze from his, she shook her head. “I’ll never sympathize again for that unwanted female attention you complained about. You’re a relentless flirt.”

“With you.” He glanced at her hands. “I don’t see a ring, and your aunt said that there was no one serious in your life.”

“Note to self,” Brooke muttered. “Remember to take duct tape to the hospital tomorrow to repair loose lips.”

Chuckling, Gage lifted his glass to inspect the wine’s deep red coloring. “This is nothing like Marsha’s boxed wine. I should have looked at the label more closely. There are hints of currant and undertones of something spicy.”

“Glad you like it.” Relieved to have something else to focus on, Brooke explained where it had come from. “It was a Christmas present from a client. He sent a case, and I brought two bottles with me.”

“You have seriously generous clients. I tend to get homemade dog biscuits.”

Bursting out laughing, Brooke sputtered, “You’re not serious?”

“I wish. My clients tend to think I’m the animal world’s version of the Good Housekeeping’s seal of approval. They think if I like their concoctions, it’s not only okay to feed the stuff to their four-legged children, they should consider going into commercial production.”

“How funny. I’m glad you like the wine, though,” she added, regaining her composure. “If I’d had to guess, I would have bet that you preferred beer.”

Gage let his head drop back and groaned, “More aspersions on my character. Do I have to get a marine haircut and wear my clinic jacket 24/7 to get any respect?”

“No, no, you’re absolutely right. In fact, you remind me of another client who came into my office several times dressed in worn jeans and dusty Western boots and an equally weathered hat. He cross-examined me relentlessly during his first two appointments. The third time he came, he gave me full control of his five-million-dollar portfolio.”

Gage grunted. “If I had that kind of money, you can bet I’d be giving you the third degree, too.”

“My point,” Brooke said, hoping a few sips of wine on a half-empty stomach wasn’t turning her into a complete ditz, “is that that I’m usually more sensitive and don’t make such perception errors.”

Gage stretched his legs before him, crossed them at the ankles and beamed at her. “Take your time. I’m happy to be your refresher course.” When Brooke failed to play along, he relented. “Actually, it does take a while to really get to know a person. Rush things and you’re apt to regret it.”

“This from the guy who announced he was going to ask me out the second time I said more than ten words to you.”

“‘Announced’ being key. I was planting the seed of an idea.” When Brooke only sipped more wine, he amended, “So I let my eagerness at getting to spend some time with you get the better of me. Are you going to hold it against me?”

“I can’t when you’re being so good-natured about my teasing you.”

“Is that what’s going on? It sure feels like flirting to me.”

“Teasing.” Brooke knew she sounded about as prim as an old-time schoolmarm. But she could feel herself softening toward him with every minute they spent together, and she had to be careful that she didn’t let things go further.

Hoping to change the subject, she drew in a deep breath, only to inhale the subtle fragrances emanating from the yard where the sinking sun was triggering long shadows and her aunt’s pocket of four-o’clocks and moonflowers—both nocturnal bloomers—were beginning to open. “I loved summers here while growing up. I would sit for hours on this porch reading Anne of Green Gables, Little Women, The Three Musketeers…. When my mother got sick, she made me a list of what to be sure and read, knowing she wouldn’t be around to guide me.”

“Did you get through it?”

“No,” Brooke admitted. “The following summer, my father decided it was time for me to read ‘serious books’—biographies about successful businesspeople, world history, that sort of thing. He wanted me to recognize trends and warning signs of manufactured or sociopolitical conflict.”

“Wow,” Gage drawled, “you weren’t just smart, you must have been a little Einstein.”

Feeling undeserving of such praise, Brooke replied, “It was more about wanting to please my father. He’s the brilliant one.”

“Where does he live? You said he’s out of the country? I can’t help noticing that he hasn’t come up to see your aunt yet.”

It struck Brooke that he misunderstood which of her parents Aunt Marsha was biologically related to. “She’s my mother’s older sister. By fifteen years,” she added, knowing that he would be confused, considering her own age. “Marsha never did warm to my father. And I have to admit that went both ways, so my father tends to keep his distance. But a lovely arrangement of flowers arrived from him the evening I arrived.” Or from his secretary, Brooke thought with some cynicism. She also wouldn’t tell Gage that as other gestures arrived from dear friends, Marsha had donated her father’s arrangement to the nursing home in town. All she offered was, “My father runs his own investment business, which is based out of Houston, but he travels the world over.”

Looking neither impressed nor intimidated, Gage said, “Obviously, you admire him. I hope he’s equally proud of you?”

“Sometimes,” Brooke demurred, ignoring personal hurt to reach for diplomacy. “He thinks I’m being foolish in how I’ve chosen to handle things here.”

That sent Gage’s eyebrows rising. “What would he have you do? Leave your aunt alone in the hospital and let her business flounder?”

“My aunt would never be totally alone,” Brooke replied, her loyalties torn. “As you’re aware, she knows virtually everyone in town, and then there’s that broad network of friends in church. She’ll never want for company. As for the shop… I could have asked Naomi to handle things—at least temporarily. She retired, but she’s helping me with the more involved orders or a big event. Only, Naomi doesn’t need or want to work full-time again. Despite being two years younger than Aunt Marsha, her own health isn’t that great.”

“The other younger woman there—Kiki, you called her this morning?”

“Yes. Kimberly Katherine is her real name, only her talents lie in the front of the store. She never trained to do arrangements, and my aunt isn’t close to giving her full management authority—Kiki has only just graduated from the community college. In Aunt Marsha’s viewpoint, she’s still a child, so my coming seemed the least disruptive for everyone.”

“Except for you,” Gage said quietly.

“Please,” Brooke entreated, “forget I complained about having to leave Dallas.”

“Okay… If you’ll tell me why there’s no one back home miserable that you’re here?”

It wasn’t a matter she let herself dwell on too often. “Let’s just say that I’ve been luckier in business than I have in love.” Hearing that phrasing had her immediately covering her eyes with her free hand. “Considering that I’m unemployed, that’s not saying much, is it?

“The problem is that the men who show interest in me either don’t react well if I’m more successful than they are, or—if they don’t mind, or find value in that—they still want me to be available at a moment’s notice like some trophy wife. I’m not someone who can spend half a day in a spa and the rest shopping while waiting for a guy to text me that he’s ready for my company.”

Gage just sat there watching her, but Brooke could read his mind as though he’d spoken. “You’re wondering how often that’s happened,” she said, with more than a little chagrin. “Enough times to be content to focus on my career at this stage of my life.”

“What I think,” Gage replied, slowly amending her opinion, “is that it sounds like someone hurt you pretty badly.”

Having had a few months to think over the matter, Brooke didn’t hesitate in her response. “No. He made me angry. His lack of respect disappointed me.”

“Does he have a name?” At her arched look, Gage offered amiably, “Just in case he happens to show up acting like he owns the place and you need some backup.”

“Parker. Parker Minot. But he won’t do that. When I close doors, they stay shut.”

Nodding slowly as he digested that, Gage said, “Strong woman. I’m relieved.”

Glad to have that done with, Brooke thought it only fair to see how he acted when the tables were turned. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same story.”

“What, you couldn’t handle half a day in a spa, either?”

Grinning, Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know—there are days when a good massage would be heaven. But no, I was referring to the unlucky part. On principle, I’m just a guy who likes to do the chasing, not be wearing a target on my back—or on my checkbook. If you ask my mother, though, she’ll tell you that I’m more fickle than my sisters ever were.” He struggled for and failed at a scowl of indignation. “I thought only women could be fickle.”

“Ho-ho,” Brooke replied. “Men are perfectly capable of being changeable and less than faithful.” Curiosity got the best of her. “So even after resolving the office situation by hiring Roy, you’re being chased, huh? Do the ladies bring their poodles and Pekinese into the clinic under false pretenses?”

“It’s calmed down some, but it happens. I have more work than I can handle, and it’s not fair for clients with animals in crisis to have to wait because of something clearly superficial. Then there’s the perfume they douse themselves and their pooches with. I confess there are times we can’t get them out of the building fast enough.”

“The things some women will stoop to,” Brooke lamented in mock protest of her sex.

As Gage leaned over to gently nudge her with his shoulder, Humphrey uttered a soft “woof.” Mounting the stairs far more slowly than he’d descended, he waddled to Gage. With a baleful look, he put one paw on his almost bare foot.

“What’s that all about?” Brooke asked. “Is he wanting me to get off his side of the glider?”

“Nah, this probably just reminded him of the good old days. My dog, Joey, used to come over with me to visit with him and Marsha, and even though Joey was a big chocolate Lab, he was really gentle with Humph. Joe made it to the ripe old age of sixteen, but he passed away right after Christmas.”

“How sad…but what a wonderful friendship you must have shared—and Humphrey, too.” Brooke leaned over to scratch the hound under his chin. Could it be that this was another reason for the poor dog to be having such strong separation anxiety from her aunt? “I guess, then, that he’s asking when things are going to get better?”

“Pretty much. I know he’s ready for me to bring him a new playmate, but I just haven’t been ready yet. That’s another reason it’s good for him to come to the clinic. We have dogs being boarded all the time if the family is on vacation. There’ll usually be someone for Humph to play with if he tires of human company.”

Knowing she had yet to fully appreciate what people like her aunt and Gage felt toward their pets, Brooke shifted to face him. “Was Joey one of those dogs that went everywhere with you?”

“You bet. He knew when he could jump out of the truck and when to stay put. He liked everybody—well, almost everybody,” he amended with a secret smile. “He instinctively gave wide berth to people with short fuses, even when they were behaving.”

When he took a deeper swallow of wine, Brooke recognized that he was ready to change the subject. “You still haven’t told me what made you settle in Sweet Springs?”

“An aversion to being cold.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“Texas A&M. I finished my training here at the clinic.”

“No kidding? I guess Aunt Marsha may have mentioned that, but I must’ve been just getting out of high school and was totally fixated on college at the time. How long have you lived next door?”

“Just over two years.”

That explained why they hadn’t met sooner. “I haven’t been getting over here as much.”

“And prior to that, there was college and grad school.”

That again confirmed that her aunt had confided plenty in him. “Well, Dad expected a 4.0 average daughter.”

Gage’s expression turned pained. “I don’t mean to offend, but your father sounds more like a field marshal or a paid personal trainer than a dad.”

He was partly correct, and Brooke could only admit ruefully, “He’s definitely one of a kind.” Not liking this subject any better, she nodded to Gage’s glass. “Are you ready for a refill? Now that the wine temperature has had a chance to warm to perfection, you should really like the bouquet.”

“I shouldn’t drink all of your present.”

Knowing by the halfhearted protest that he wanted her to coax him, she reached for his glass. “Wine is always better when shared.”

He outmaneuvered her and took her glass instead. “In that case, at least let me do the legwork. You enjoy the rest of this sunset.”

As he disappeared into the house, Humphrey looked perplexedly from her to the door. “Oh, don’t worry,” she assured the pooch. “He’ll be right back. You won’t have to suffer my company for too long.”

The soulful-eyed dog let his front paws slide, and he settled on his tummy, then rolled halfway over to press his back against her feet. After a second of surprise, Brooke leaned over again to stroke his sleek, short fur.

“Well, thank you, Mr. Charming. So if he likes me, you’re going to give me the benefit of the doubt? How magnanimous of you.”

Gage returned with the wine and a beefy treat from the pantry for Humphrey. The dog sprang up to a sitting position, grinning in pleasure. As soon as Gage gave him the snack, he lay down and started to chew enthusiastically.

“I thought treats after dinner were frowned upon?” she asked, accepting her glass.

“When I saw him scooting over to you, I thought he should get some reward.” After resuming his seat, Gage touched his glass to hers. “Here’s to things continuing to work out to everyone’s satisfaction.”

The openly inviting look in his eyes told Brooke that he was also talking about matters that had nothing to do with Humph behaving and bonding with her, or Aunt Marsha. But they soon fell into easy conversation again, and before Brooke knew it, their glasses were almost empty once more. They had covered several other topics—local politics, who was closing their business, who was opening one and finding a reliable lawn-care person. That last subject had Gage reacting right away.

“Don’t worry about it—I’ve been doing Marsha’s yard at the same time I’ve been doing mine. With my big zero-turn machine, it takes no time at all.”

“You’re sure? I already feel as though I’m taking advantage.”

“Positive. If the guilt gets too bad, just invite me over for another glass of wine.” When Gage noticed her slapping at mosquitoes for the third time, he reluctantly rose to his feet. “We’d better call it a night before the bats join the mosquitoes and try to carry you away.”

“Was that a diplomatically phrased short joke?” She narrowed her eyes with playful speculation.

“Only stating the obvious—you’re the one with the most tempting skin.”

Cocooned in the amber glow of the porch light that had just come on automatically, Brooke felt more than relaxed; she felt part of a special moment that she honestly wished wasn’t ending. What a surprise, considering her previous intent to keep him at arm’s distance.

“Thank you…and for the visit. I can’t remember when time passed so quickly or pleasantly,” she admitted, rising herself.

“That’s good to hear. That means if I suggest it again, you’ll say yes.”

Before she knew what was happening, Gage leaned over and tenderly kissed her cheek. The caress sent such a unique warmth through her body that Brooke tried to quickly blame it on the wine.

“That would be nice, but you’re the one who said you have more work than you can handle,” she reminded him, before any additional romantic thoughts—and ghostly yearnings—tripped her up. “And I have to get back to my schedule of spending evenings with Aunt Marsha.” Then doing the bookkeeping when she got home. That wasn’t going to happen tonight. Right now all she felt capable of doing was to shower and slide into her comfy bed.

Giving her a patient look, Gage handed her his empty glass. “One thing I’m going to insist on is for me to take Humph on my way in tomorrow morning. There’s no reason for you to make a special trip out to the clinic. Besides, he can’t be wild about the view from your BMW’s floorboard.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but those claws—trimmed though they are—are not going to test my leather seats.”

Nodding his understanding, Gage drawled, “Just say, ‘Thank you for being sweet, Gage.’”

“I do appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Brooke replied instead. “There are several things that I need to get to at the store, and the extra time will be welcome.”

“My pleasure—now, isn’t that worthy of a kiss on my cheek?”

Trying not to laugh at the rascal, Brooke said, “Dr. Sullivan, any trouble you have with unwanted female attention, you invite!”

However, when he gave her a crestfallen look, she couldn’t resist. Rising on tiptoe, she aimed for his cheek. However, Gage proved what a scoundrel he could be when in the last second, he turned his head, and her kiss landed directly on his warm, welcoming lips.

Chapter Three

“Are you blushing?”

Jerked out of her daydreaming, Brooke glanced over to find that Kiki Webb had quietly entered through the back door of the shop. It was unlocked because their deliveryman, Charles Rollins, was outside checking under the hood of the florist’s van, as he always did before heading off on his first run of the day—and today was Thursday, usually one of their busiest.

The heat in her cheeks told Brooke that Kiki was probably correct in her estimation, and that flustered her, too. “Is it warm in here to you, too?” she asked, hoping to fool Kiki. “Do me a favor and ask Charles to check the air conditioner before he leaves? Hopefully, only the filter needs cleaning.”

“Ms. Brooke, the thing is blasting enough cold air to turn Mount Kilauea into an iceberg,” Kiki replied, her expression a mix of amusement and concern. “You could shut off power to those storage coolers and the flowers wouldn’t notice. So what’s up that has you gazing off into another dimension? Oh! Excuse me—is it your guy in Dallas? Is he coming to visit for the weekend?”

Since she’d arrived at the store, Brooke had encouraged Kiki to work as she always did. But the young woman was shy and deferential, calling her “Ms. Brooke” at every turn. Hoping to find some happy middle ground, Brooke replied, “There is no guy and no visit happening, and considering what our schedule has been and is about to be, that’s good news!”

The energetic blond cutie with the impish smile clasped her hands in excitement as she instantly made mental lemonade out of lemons. “That sounds promising. What’s up?”

“I talked Aunt Marsha into letting you get after those window displays.”

As expected, Kiki was enthused. She pumped the air with her fisted hands and filled the room with the music of jangling bracelets. Her colorful jewelry matched the rest of her artsy outfit—a gauzy pink blouse over an orange tank top, over a deep purple sports bra. Her jeans were enhanced with her own beadwork, and her purple flip-flops sparkled just as much as her metallic-orange toenail polish did.

“Oh, Ms. Brooke—”

“Please…just Brooke.”

“Thank you! I was afraid to hope when you said you’d do your best to get me permission.” With a new enthusiasm, the perky young woman shoved her bag—another of her own designs fabricated out of old blue jeans—under the workstation where Brooke kept hers and did pirouettes to the front of the store.

Catching a flirty fragrance, Brooke demanded, “Hold it! What’s that scent you’re wearing?”

Kiki shoved her hands under her shoulder-blade-length hair and flipped it to send more scent through the room. “You like? I’ve been working on this recipe for weeks.”

Nodding as it played through her senses, Brooke replied, “Adore it. Put me down as a guaranteed customer. That’s pure romance.”

Kiki snapped her fingers. “I couldn’t think of the right description, but it is, isn’t it? I feel so girly wearing this.”

“Defined notes without being heavy or too sweet.”

“Unfortunately, Ralph Lauren already trademarked the name Romance.”

“He would rethink his recipe if he got a whiff of yours.”

Retracing her steps to the worktable, Kiki reached for Brooke. “This is the best news I’ve been given in months.”

Although startled by the hug, Brooke found the impulse endearing. “You know what? When you get that and your perfume packaging finalized, we should put it in the store. I think it should be right on the front counter so you can do samples. I mean, if that was something you were interested in?”

“Are you kidding?” Kiki did another little dance of joy. “I can’t wait to tell my folks.”

The young woman had shared that, while her mother loved having her—the only girl born between two brothers—still living at home, her father was ready to see his offspring spread their wings and leave the nest. Brooke thought giving her creativity such a boost might help her reach that goal soon.

“I’m sure they’ll be even prouder of you than they already are. Aunt Marsha realizes that you need to put more of your training and talent to work. I think her delay in doing that is partly due to her having lost almost all of her family—my mother, then their parents—so early in life. Then, when my Uncle Sam died, I think she developed a certain fear of change.” She nodded to the front of the store. “After you get the window displays finished, we’ll talk about some improvements we might tackle in the rest of the place.”

Kiki looked like a kid on Christmas morning. She pressed her right hand to her heart. “I don’t know what to say, Brooke. I won’t let either of you down.”

“I’m fully confident that you won’t.” Brooke glanced around the store. There was no denying that things were looking a bit dingy and uninspiring. No doubt Aunt Marsha’s customers and friends loved her too much to have told her the truth. “It’s about time the place gets an update—including a brighter paint job. You were right when you told me that Aunt Marsha has faithful clientele, but that she’s not getting the younger crowd’s attention.”

“I’ll be happy to go online and get some paint color samples for you to show her.”

Setting the arrangement she’d just finished by the other four waiting for delivery, Brooke nodded, although she thought she might just want to keep this bit of information to herself to surprise her aunt with the new and improved store. “In the meantime, let me go up to the loft and take a look around while you watch things in here. Once I’m back, you can go up and start purging what’s showing its age and bring down anything you think will work for the display. Then we can figure out what else we need.”