Читать книгу Puppy Love In Thunder Canyon - Christyne Butler - Страница 9

“Oh, and please call me Annabel. This is Smiley.” Thomas watched the oversize furball move to sit between her and his patient, ears flopping as it looked back and forth between the two. Then the mutt leaned toward Forrest. Thomas was about to call out, until he saw how the dog rested its chin lightly on Traub’s uninjured knee.

“Smiley is a certified therapy dog,” she continued. “As his owner and handler, I’ve been trained and certified, as well. Because of Forrest’s injury, and his ongoing treatment, I thought Smiley might be able to help.”

He looked back to the woman. “Help how?”

“Therapy dogs are used to assist patients in dealing with the stress and uncertainty that comes with medical issues.”

Thomas didn’t put much stock in therapy dogs—or meditation, or aromatherapy, or any number of other alternative therapies that floated around out there.

All he believed in were cold, hard facts. And science.

“Miss Cates, I really don’t have time for this. Your visit today is not authorized, by me or, I’m guessing, Mr. Traub, and is distracting to say the least.”

“Oh, I don’t mean to be any trouble—”

“You’ve already been that.” Thomas dropped his hand to the folder in the middle of his desk, drumming his thumb repeatedly on the cover. An action her dog apparently took as a cue to perch its large front paws on the edge of his desk and swat its large, fluffy tail at the shoulder of Forrest Traub.

“Smiley, stop that and get down.” She gently tugged at her dog’s leash. “I’m so sorry, Dr. North. I promise you he never acts this way. I guess he must really like you.”

“I doubt that.”

The dog sat again and returned its attention to Forrest. Miss Cates did the same. “I guess this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe you can spend time with Smiley another day.”

“I’d like you to stay.” Traub laid his hand back on the dog’s head. “Both of you.”

Surprised by his patient’s request, Thomas studied him closely, silently admitting the animal did seem to be having an impact on the man.

He and Forrest had only met twice before, the last time being a week ago when Thomas had performed a thorough examination of the ex-soldier’s injured leg. Forrest had been withdrawn and testy, speaking only when asked a direct question.

In the subsequent reading of his military medical records, Thomas had found the former army sergeant had good reason for his surliness, having gone through hell after a roadside explosive destroyed the Humvee he was riding in during his last tour in Afghanistan.

He’d been in and out of hospitals for the past year and still had not regained full use of his leg. Today though, he seemed more relaxed, a hint of a smile on his face as he continued to scratch the animal’s ears and neck.

Of course, this had to be temporary. Depression was common in veterans, as was post-traumatic stress, and Thomas couldn’t see how patting a dog could counteract such difficult conditions. The only real cure for Forrest was in the skilled hands of a surgeon.

At any rate, the man clearly enjoyed the dog’s company, so Thomas had no choice but to let the mongrel—and Miss Cates—stay.

“Fine.” Thomas flipped open the folder. “We planned to discuss my findings and go over recommendations for further treatment. Are you comfortable discussing your condition in front of Miss Cates?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been present at doctor-patient consults before. Confidentiality isn’t an issue,” the blonde spitfire said with a wave of her hand. “I know how to keep a secret.”

Thomas ignored her and waited for his patient to reply.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Traub said.

“The results are a bit complex and cover a lot of technical jargon—”

“Get to the bottom line, doc.”

Thomas did as requested. “You are going to need surgery. Again.”

He waited, but Forrest’s only reaction to the news was the fisting of his free hand while the other continued to dig deep into the dog’s fur. Thomas glanced at Miss Cates, but her focus was on his ceiling as she blinked rapidly.

“How soon?” Forrest asked.

Thomas looked back at his patient. “The sooner the better. We can schedule you for next week.”

The conversation continued for several minutes as Thomas outlined the presurgery preparations, what he planned to accomplish with the delicate procedure and the post-care that would be required.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you next week.” Forrest finally released his hold on the dog and grabbed his cane. Pushing to his feet, he held out his hand. “I’m betting on you to work your magic, doc.”

Thomas rose and returned the man’s firm grasp, determined to bring all his skills and knowledge to the operating room, like always. “You can count on it, Forrest.”

The man returned Thomas’s gaze for a long moment before he released his hand and turned away. “Annabel, I’ll walk you to your car if you and Smiley are heading out?”

“That would be great, thanks.” Rising, she held out her hand. “Dr. North, it was a pleasure. I would appreciate the opportunity to discuss the possibility of us working together in the future.”

Thomas took her hand, the warmth and softness of her skin against his again creating that same zing of awareness he’d felt earlier. “Thank you, but I don’t see that happening, Miss Cates.”

“I’m sure we can come to a meeting of the minds, not quite as literally as we did this time, I hope.” Her full lips twitched and then rose into a playful grin. “Besides, I’m known to be very persuasive when I want something.”

For some reason, Thomas believed her. “My schedule is pretty full.”

“A half hour.” Her fingers tightened around his. “What harm can I do in thirty minutes?”

Thomas cleared throat and released her hand. Seeing her again would be crazy. His mind was already made up. To him, dog therapy was nothing but … fluff. Still, the chance to spend time with this bewitching woman was something he couldn’t make himself pass up.

No matter how much his logical side told him it wasn’t a good idea.

“Okay, thirty minutes. You can call my secretary to set up a date and time. But be warned, I rarely change my mind.”

Once a decision had been made, Thomas stuck by that decision. No matter what. It was something the hospital staff had learned about him in the two years he’d been here.

But agreeing to meet with Miss Cates?

Thomas had seriously reconsidered allowing the meeting to take place many times over the past week.

Thunder Canyon General wasn’t a large facility, but thanks to the financial boom that came to town a few years back and the hard work of the hospital administrators—including his grandmother Ernestine North until she finally retired a year ago—the facility lacked for nothing.

Including a thriving gossip grapevine that, until recently, he’d never been a part of. An accomplishment Thomas had worked hard at since accepting his position.

He’d come home to Thunder Canyon determined not to make the same mistake twice. Oh, he knew the staff talked about him. Even after twenty-four months he was still considered the “new” guy around here.

His reputation as a skilled surgeon, and a success rate that was all the more impressive here at TC because of his age, followed him from his previous position at the UCLA Medical Center in Santa Monica.

Thank goodness that was the only thing that had followed.

He also knew some at Thunder Canyon General considered his bedside manner a bit … cold, at least to those who confused emotional involvement with professionalism.

A mistake he wouldn’t make again.

But thanks to Annabel Cates and her dog he’d found himself the recipient of even more stares, whispered conversations that ended when he appeared and a few hazing incidents, some subtle and others not so much, starting the day after her visit.

The sweater Marge had worn the other day covered in miniature poodles had been a delicate jab, but the not-so-quiet barking his fellow surgeons and residents engaged in whenever he walked into the doctors’ lounge was not.

The old-fashioned glass apothecary jar filled with dog biscuits and tied with a bright bow he’d found on his desk just the other day had been a nice touch. There’d been no card and Marge hadn’t said a word about it. Deciding that leaving it in the break room for someone who actually had a pet would only add more fuel to the fire, he’d tucked the jar into the bottom drawer of his credenza.

All of which had to be the reason why Thomas found Annabel on his mind so much over the past several days. While he could admit, at least to himself, there’d been a spark of attraction, she was definitely not his type.

If he had one.

It’d been a while since he’d dated anyone. The women he’d gone out with in the past, when he found the time or desire, were professionals focused on their careers, much like him.

Of course, his last attempt at a serious relationship had dissolved into such a fiasco he ended up having no choice but to seek another job as far away from Southern California as he could get.

Which meant returning home to Thunder Canyon.

Besides, Annabel seemed … well, a bit flaky, idealistic, pushy. They could not be more opposite. Yet when he reviewed his calendar each morning he’d found himself looking for her name.

It wasn’t until after Forrest Traub’s surgery two days ago that it appeared with the promised thirty minutes blocked out for Thursday afternoon.

Today.

Annabel—and her dog—should be here any minute.

Not wanting a repeat from last time, Thomas sat behind his desk and tried to edit his latest article for a leading medical journal, but after reading the same paragraph three times he was glad when familiar tapping at the door came.

“Come in,” he said, recognizing his secretary’s signature knock. “Marge, I’m out of red markers. Could you find me a few more, please?”

“Sorry. I come bearing gifts, but not a red marker in sight.”

Thomas looked up and found Annabel Cates standing in his doorway. He immediately noticed she wore her hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail. It made her look younger, though the curves presented in her simple bright yellow top and denim skirt said otherwise. He found himself wondering just how old she was.

He stood, his gaze drawn to her bare legs and toes, thanks to her sandals, this time the nails sporting a matching neon-yellow shade.

Details. Thomas was known for being a man of details, but he realized he’d taken in her entire outfit before he noticed the large, leafy green plant she held in her hands.

And the fact she was alone. No dog in sight.

“Don’t tell me my secretary is baby—err, dog sitting.”

She smiled and it lit up her entire face. Another detail he remembered from the last time she was in his office.

“Nope, it’s just me this time. Disappointed?”

“Not in the least. Please, come in.”

She did, closing the door behind her before she walked to his desk and held out the plant. “This is for you. It’s a Peace Lily.”

“Are we at war?”

“No, but I thought the name was fitting and this place needs a bit of color. Also, they’re known for tolerance for low light, dry air and are great indoor air purifiers.”

“Well, thank you.” Surprised that she went to such lengths to pick out the offering, Thomas took the container, pausing when his fingers brushed over hers. He placed it on the filing cabinet next to his desk. “I can’t promise I’ll remember to water it.”

“I kind of figured you were a busy guy, so I included an aqua globe. See?” She walked around the desk and moved in behind him, pointing out the green shaded globe barely visible among the leaves. Heat radiated off her body and he suddenly felt naked without his lab coat. “You just fill it, turn it upside down and jab it in the dirt. It’ll water your plant for two weeks before you need to refill.”

“Ah, that’s … that’s a good idea.” Damn, he sounded like a schoolkid nervous to be talking to the prettiest girl in the class. “Why don’t we sit down and get started?”

“Sounds great.” Annabel stepped back but instead of taking one of the chairs in front of his desk, she moved to the couch against the wall. Skirting the coffee table, she dropped to one end and patted the spot next to her.

Thomas cleared his throat, but joined her, making sure to keep an empty space between them. Not that it mattered. Annabel simply scooted closer.

He fought against the automatic reaction to lean back and rest his arm against the back of the leather sofa. Instead, he scooted forward and braced his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped together.

“I left Smiley at home because I wanted to be able to talk without any furry distractions.” She grabbed a large book from an oversize bag at her feet. “You don’t have to feel bad or think you’re not an animal person because the two of you didn’t hit it off. You just haven’t met the right one yet.”

His shoulders went stiff. “I never said—”

“Most people love Smiley, which makes him so good at being a therapy dog,” she continued, opening the book and laying it flat across her lap. “I started this scrapbook to document our training and all the work we do. There are a number of tests that Smiley had to pass before being certified, such as acceptance of a friendly stranger, walking through a crowd or sitting politely.”

Thomas cleared his throat. It then closed up completely when Annabel laughed and reached out, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “You’re a special case.”

Her heated touch seemed to sear his skin through the smooth material of his shirt. His fingers tightened against his knuckles until she released him. “Ah, that’s good to know.”

“Smiley was also tested for basic commands and how he reacted to being around other dogs, children and medical equipment and so on.”

“I’m guessing all the animals in this program are required to provide health records?”

“Of course. They have to be tested annually and maintain a good appearance. Grooming is a must.” She turned the page and pointed to certificates in both her and her dog’s names. “We passed every test with flying colors and have been doing this kind of work for the last six months. I document every visit we make, sometimes with photographs, as we are working toward the American Kennel Club’s Therapy Dog title. Smiley’s been to schools, group homes, clinics and nursing care facilities. Not to mention a couple areas here at TC General.”

Annabel gently brushed her fingertips over the pictures on the next page of a young girl lying in a hospital bed, her head covered in a colorful head scarf and Smiley stretched out beside her. “This is Isabella. She was the sweetest thing. When we arrived to visit with her she asked me if Smiley was an angel. When I asked why, she said she’d just dreamed that an angel was coming to take her home.”

Thomas watched as Annabel paused, pressing her fingertips to her lips, and glanced upward for a moment before she went on. “Her mother told Isabella she was too sick to leave the hospital just yet and the little girl said she wasn’t talking about their home. That the angel was taking her to God’s house. She died six weeks later, just days after her tenth birthday. That last week Smiley and I were there every day.”

He had to ask. “Why do you do that?”

She looked at him, her blue eyes shiny. “Do what?”

“Roll your eyes that way. You did it during the appointment with Forrest when I was discussing his surgery and again just now.”

“I wasn’t rolling my eyes. Not in the traditional sense.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’m not bored or exasperated. You see, I tend to get a bit emotional, especially in some of the situations Smiley and I find ourselves involved with. It’s a trick I picked up from another dog handler to stop the tears.”

“It works?”

Annabel nodded. “My mom told me that tickling the roof of my mouth with the tip of my tongue will do the same thing, but I’m usually too busy talking—” She stopped and bit down on her bottom lip. “Well, I guess you’ve already figured that out.”

Yes, he had. What he couldn’t figure out was why he liked that about her.

“Should I go on?” she asked.

As if he could tell her not to. “Please do.”

Annabel turned the page and his gaze was drawn to the photo of a teenage boy holding himself upright on parallel bars, a prosthetic where his right leg should have been. “This is Marcus Colton. He lost his leg last winter in a snowmobile accident. Like most teenagers, what he did best was give his physical therapists a hard time.”

“Let me guess. Smiley changed that?”

“We were at the clinic one day when Marcus was being his usual charming self, demanding no one would get him to make a fool of himself by trying to walk, even though he’d been doing pretty well at his rehab for a month by then.”

She pointed to the next picture showing her dog sitting calmly at the opposite end of the bars, Annabel just a few feet away holding his leash. “Smiley allowed Marcus to pet him for a few minutes and then he went and sat there, almost daring Marcus to come to him.”

“And he did.”

“Not the first visit. Or even the second, but Smiley proved to be every bit as stubborn as Marcus. The boy finally relented and now he’s making great progress.”

She went on, telling him stories of senior citizens who had no one to visit them but Smiley, of the patients attending their dialysis sessions who welcomed the distraction petting a dog brought and schoolkids finding it easier to practice their reading when their audience was a dog.

With each story came more looks upward, a couple swipes at the tears that made it through and a sexy husky laugh, all of which struck a chord deep in Thomas’s gut.

“I’m guessing all of this is to convince me to allow Smiley to work with Forrest during his rehab, if my patient agrees,” Thomas said when she finally finished. “But why do I get the feeling you are looking for something else from me?”

“Hmm, now that’s a loaded question.” She closed her book, a pretty blush on her cheeks. “Yes, working with Forrest was my original plan. I still want to now that he’s home from the hospital and ready to start his physical therapy, but what I’d really like is to set up a weekly support group here at the hospital. One that’s open to any patient who wants to come, no matter what their illness.”

While Thomas still had doubts about her work, he found himself enamored of Annabel’s spirit. What surprised him even more was the fact he wanted to see her again.

And not just here at the hospital.

“I’m still not completely convinced, but I’ll agree to at least consider your idea.”

“Really?” Annabel’s smile was wide, her blue eyes sparkling up at him. “That’s wonderful!”

“There’s just one condition.” He could hardly believe the words pouring from his mouth. “You agree to have dinner with me.”