Читать книгу Tracking You - Kelly Moran - Страница 10

Gabby strode into the Animal Instincts clinic ten minutes before her shift and stopped dead in her tracks.

The Battleaxes, along with Flynn, Brent, and Avery, were all at the front desk chatting. Damn. If Flynn’s mother and aunts were here before opening, something was going on. Not good.

She eyed Flynn in a silent question, but he shrugged one wide shoulder and gave her an I-know-nothing look.

“Gabby, just the girl we wanted to see.” Marie slung her arm around Gabby’s shoulders, causing strands of Marie’s short dark bob to poke Gabby’s eye.

Double damn with oh shit on top. Most of the town knew to take off sprinting when the Battleaxes headed their way. The women meddled. A lot. Not only as a hobby, but a life mission. Rarely was Gabby bothered by their appearance, though. It was an infrequent day in hell when they saw fit to screw with her. Good girl and all.

“Um, okay. What can I help you with?”

Rosa’s grin resembled something like the cartoon version of the Grinch in plot mode. Flynn’s middle aunt used to be their office manager before hiring Avery, so Gabby knew that look and it caused cold sweat to trickle down her back.

Marie stepped away and folded her hands. “As you know, the Spring Fling is coming up.”

“Uh huh.” Redwood Ridge did several holiday events throughout the year. The Spring Fling took place in the park near the coast and was Easter-oriented. Typically, it was Gabby’s favorite since it was close to her birthday.

“And you also know it’s the council’s policy for the kissing booth to be run by a single member of the community. Avery was going to do it, but she’s not single anymore. We picked you to replace her.”

Flynn’s eyes shot wide as they met hers.

“Uh…” Gabby rubbed her forehead. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Who would pay to kiss her when she couldn’t get anyone to do it for free? The venue wouldn’t earn the town one red cent.

“Nonsense,” Gayle quipped. Flynn’s mother was typically the quiet, reserved one in the bunch, but her expression illustrated she wasn’t messing around. “You’re a pretty girl and they’ll line up for a chance to lay a smooch on you.”

Rosa crossed her arms. “You don’t want to disappoint the single men of Redwood Ridge or the event committee, do you?”

Her pulse tripped. “No, of course not. It’s just—”

“Good.” Rosa nodded as her thumbs ran rampant over her phone she’d conjured from who knew where.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Tweeting.” She grinned. “There. It’s official. You are the kissing queen.” Gabby opened her mouth, but Rosa cut off any possible response. “Oh look, we have two responses already.”

The Battleaxes had a Twitter and Pinterest account, both of which they used routinely for gossip. Or what passed for news around here. Gabby looked longingly at the back of the clinic. If she fled from the room screaming would they leave her alone?

Flynn straightened. “Doesn’t seem like she wants to do the booth. Why don’t you pick someone else?”

God. She could kiss him in gratitude, but that would only encourage them.

“Pah.” Marie waved her hand, dismissing him.

Flynn appeared a little disturbed by the idea himself. His gaze darted between her and his aunts, his shoulders tense beneath his dark blue scrubs. He lifted his hands to sign, but Gabby missed what he said when Brent interrupted.

“Told you.” His singsong tone made her belly churn in warning. More so when he looked at Marie and raised his brows in confirmation.

What was going on? “Told her what?”

Marie ignored her. “You did tell me, and I think you’re right.”

“Right about what?” This whole conversation was turning into a twisted version of Abbot & Costello’s Who’s on First.

“Moving along,” Marie said. “As in the past, we’re having two members from each small business participate in the games during the event. You and Flynn will represent Animal Instincts.”

The games consisted of things like relay races and an egg toss. Nothing crazy. But the hair stood up on the back on her neck. This was beginning to look an awful lot like the Battleaxes were trying to play Cupid. They’d “arranged” similar coincidences for Avery and Cade not a few months ago. But…why her and Flynn? And why now?

She looked at Brent. “I thought you and Zoe were representing the clinic.”

Avery’s tone was wry. “Funny thing. He twisted his ankle.” Her expression indicated she believed that as much as she believed the tooth fairy would descend upon them and hand over a winning lottery ticket.

Gabby narrowed her eyes and spoke through clenched teeth. “The Spring Fling is a couple weeks away. You should heal by then. If not, I can participate with Zoe.”

Rosa shook her head. “Nope. Gotta be one of each gender.”

“Since when?”

“New rule this year.” Rosa shrugged like this wasn’t part of her master plan.

Panic was this close to cutting off her air. If the Battleaxes had their sights on matchmaking, she and Flynn would never escape. She had no idea what brought this on, but she had to nip it in the bud or almost thirty years of friendship and a solid business unit would go up like kindling.

Flynn shook his head. “I’m going to make sure our bags are packed. We need to be on the road in ten minutes.”

She and Flynn did house calls three days a week to neighboring farms and disabled residents. Gabby made sure the car and bags were always stocked. And if she didn’t, Avery was an organizational Nazi. “You know the car is ready.” She mouthed, coward.

Flynn grinned and straightened from the counter, throwing her to the wolves. “Better to be safe than sorry.” He saluted her with two fingers and strode into the back room.

Brent skipped off after him, merrily avoiding her wrath.

Gabby frowned. “Twisted ankle, huh?”

“It comes and goes,” Brent shouted from the hallway.

She glanced at Avery for support, who looked no more pleased than Gabby, but the Battleaxes were leaving in a flurry of motion designed to distract and deploy.

Gabby stared at the door after they’d exited and sighed. “When did I get to Oz?”

Avery laughed. “It’ll be okay. It’s just one day. Whatever they have cooking will be leftovers eventually.”

She didn’t think so, but she headed to the back room and printed their patient list for the day, figuring she’d think about the problem later.

Flynn was waiting in the passenger seat when she got to the clinic SUV parked behind the building by the kennels. Because a lot of their home visits were up the mountain or along the coast, an all-terrain vehicle was required. The hatch was loaded with two tranquilizer guns, a satellite phone, and extra first-aid supplies, along with their veterinarian bags. Gabby checked the back to ensure they were loaded before climbing in the driver’s seat. Flynn liked to do his electronic charting while she drove. Saved time.

She eyed him, not over her mad. “What happened to your balls? Did they disappear with your backbone?”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. So what if you have to compete with me at the Fling?”

He was not that dense. “They’re trying to set us up.”

One pale eyebrow quirked. “For what?”

He was that dense. She whipped him a duh expression and waved her hand between them.

He reared back, understanding dawning. And if she wasn’t mistaken, panic hit his eyes. “That’s…ridiculous.”

She banked down the flare of annoyance that even her BFF thought a relationship with her would be absurd. Or maybe he meant his family trying to shove them together. Either way, neither was wrong. She just had her panties in a wad because of her dry spell. Flynn could no more thwart the Battleaxes than a Band-Aid could help with an amputation.

She reached for the GPS and loaded the patient addresses for the day. Before she could put the car in gear, Flynn’s hand landed on her arm.

“Are you really going to do the kissing booth?”

She thought for sure he’d razz her about it or tease her into next week. But his eyebrows were pinched together in concern. “It beats bar dancing or going gay.” Not that anyone would show up at her booth. Who wanted to kiss their sister? And that’s pretty much how men viewed her.

After checking the settings on the dashboard to make sure the digital display’s closed captioning was activated for Flynn, she put the SUV in drive. His hand closed around her forearm again, more firmly this time.

His expression seemed conflicted as he stared at the dashboard like he’d never seen the song lyric readout before.

Flynn obviously couldn’t hear, but she’d learned back in high school that he liked music. Often, he’d put his hand over the speaker or, since she’d had the digital satellite radio installed, he’d read the music when not charting. The way he was acting, it was as if he’d never noticed.

She dipped her head to draw his attention. “What’s up?”

Tenderness shone in his eyes when his gaze met hers, and something crackled in the small space between them. Awareness. Acceptance. There and gone in a blink, leaving the car suddenly feeling too cramped for comfort.

God. She was losing it.

Rolling her shoulders, she backed out of their space and headed for the main road. “Know what I like most about you?”

“Would you stop signing while you drive?”

She grinned at his age-old argument. “I can drive with my knee. See?”

He growled. It wasn’t often she heard him make noises or sounds. On rare occasions, he spoke words here or there, but only with no one else around and only when his hands were too occupied to sign, like when treating an animal.

After a beat, he sighed, conceding. “What do you like most about me?”

She glanced at him long enough to catch him signing and reverted her gaze back to the road. “You never mind when I sing.” She cranked the volume and sang along to an Aerosmith classic. Poorly. She couldn’t carry a tune in a wheelbarrow and knew it.

Flynn stared at her with affection warming his eyes and shook his head.

It figured their first patient of the day was Mrs. Crosby. By Gabby’s estimation, the woman was three centuries old and in excellent health. She also owned six cats and lived alone. Blessedly, Avery had blocked enough time—half the day—for the visit as they usually spent a lot of time with the elderly woman.

She rang the bell while Flynn scrolled through the e-chart on his device. The pungent stench of ammonia hit Gabby in the face once Mrs. Crosby opened the door. Flynn took an involuntary step back in response. They shared a mutual ruh-roh expression. Someone hadn’t been helping the woman empty her litter boxes.

They stepped inside and got pleasantries out of the way.

Mrs. Crosby, with the aid of a cane, waddled over to a brown recliner in the cluttered living room and sat. There were newspapers and knickknacks on every available surface. The aged wall paneling held ancient family photos.

Two cats were on the back of the plaid sofa, three were winding around her legs on the threadbare shag carpet, one jumped onto the elderly woman’s lap, and another balefully looked on from the bay window. Gabby did a mental head count and looked at Flynn.

“Did you get another cat, Mrs. Crosby?”

“Oh yes, dear. This one here is Fluffykins.” She stroked the gray and white kitten’s back in her lap. The gnarled knuckles of rheumatoid arthritis were worse than when they’d made their last house call. Her hair, though combed and tidy, was longer than typical.

She sighed and wondered if this was going to be her in forty years. Alone, collecting felines to fill the void. Townsfolk would call her the crazy cat lady and she’d be too senile to know.

Joking aside, her heart panged for the woman. Setting her bag down, she signed to Flynn that she was going to do the litter boxes before they got started. It wasn’t a part of their services to do these things, but it was obvious Mrs. Crosby’s son hadn’t been by to check on her recently.

Walking through the tiny outdated kitchen, Gabby headed for the mudroom and shook her head. The boxes were so full the cats had begun avoiding them altogether. She pulled gloves from her scrubs pocket and found a garbage bag under the kitchen sink.

After dumping the old litter and cleaning up the droppings around the boxes, she dumped fresh litter in and poured some baking soda over the top to absorb some of the stench.

She checked the cats’ food and water supply, noting they were fine there. She opened a kitchen window to air out the place and snatched a bottle of fabric refresher, targeting the furniture and curtains. From there, she poured more baking soda over the carpets and did a quick pass with the vacuum. She tossed out the past-dated food in the fridge and pantry, then finished off by emptying the garbage.

All in all, she had everything done in under thirty minutes. There was no excuse for the son not to have taken care of things for her. It wasn’t good for Mrs. Crosby to be living in these conditions.

After washing her hands and donning a fresh pair of gloves, she made her way back into the living room where Flynn was examining one of the cats. “You doing okay?”

He nodded and set the cat on the floor. “Two down. No health issues to note. All six will need vaccines.”

She carried vials in a hand cooler and always waited until he was finished with exams to not make the animals anxious. While he was doing his thing, Gabby grabbed her stethoscope and listened to heart, bowel, and lung sounds on the cats as he finished with them.

He worked his way through the other four cats until getting to the new addition. Fluffykins’s hair stood up on her back as Flynn drew near. He stepped away to give it some space.

Gabby interpreted his questions for Mrs. Crosby and then reached for the furball to hold her while Flynn did an exam.

“Female. Approximately ten weeks old. Declawed in front. Vitals normal. Abdomen soft. Ears clear.”

“Everything looks great, Mrs. Crosby. We’ll just do their shots and you should be all set.”

“Wonderful, dear.”

Their routine was down to a science. Flynn held the cats while Gabby drew the syringes, did the pokes one by one, and tossed the used needles in a portable biohazard container. While he had them distracted, she gave each of the cats their heartworm chew and applied the flea and tick solution.

The new kitten was not happy and growled by the time they got to it. Knowing she had to be quick, she waited for Flynn to have a secure hold and quickly doled out the shot.

Flynn motioned to let the cat jump down, but it flew at Gabby with teeth bared and a hiss of pure pissed-off feline. A gray and white flurry of fur whizzed past her peripheral. Before she could react, the thing sank its back claws into her thigh, bit her left hand good, and sauntered off down the hall.

She sucked a breath through her teeth and winced. Pain shot up her arm, hot and sharp and searing. Eyes watering, she glanced at the damage. The bite had broken through the glove to skin and was lightly bleeding. Great. Cat mouths were riddled with bacteria and it didn’t take much for an infection to take root.

Flynn reached for her, but she shook her head. They’d clean it up in the car.

More hurried than usual, she scrawled a note for the son and set it on the fridge with a magnet, then washed her hands and said her goodbyes to Mrs. Crosby.

Flynn had the first-aid box open on the back hatch when she stepped outside. A deep groove worried between his brows. “Let’s have a look.”

She set her supplies down. “Mrs. Crosby didn’t notice it had happened. I didn’t want to worry her.”

He nodded his understanding and inspected the bite. There were four punctures along her pinky. And they were deep. Without much tissue on that area of the hand, it wasn’t difficult for the teeth to hit bone. The spot was pretty reddened already.

He grunted and disinfected his hands with sanitizer. With quick, skillful movements, he squeezed the punctures to drain, cleaned them out with peroxide, applied antiseptic, and wrapped her finger with enough padding to go ten rounds with a prizefighter.

You okay? he mouthed.

It stung like hell. “Just a bite. Not my first.” Wouldn’t be her last.

The way he was looking at her said he thought otherwise. Still cradling her hand in his large calloused ones, he brushed his thumb over her palm, eliciting a shiver. His mouth firm, he watched the movement as if in a trace, his gaze distracted and concerned.

Sunlight streamed through his strawberry blond hair. His scent of light woodsy aftershave rose up over that of damp earth and humid spring air, so comforting and familiar she almost didn’t notice. He was standing close, mere inches away. Near enough to absorb the heat from his body, to count each of his pale, long lashes framing the most sincere hazel eyes. He had perfect facial symmetry. High cheekbones, wide jaw.

Her pulse thrummed heady. She eyed the dark blue scrub shirt covering his lean, athletic body and wondered what it would feel like to be held against all that hard. She hadn’t been intimate with anyone in quite some time. As a chilly breeze swept through the meager space between them, she wanted to climb inside his warmth and let the rest of the world fade. Be touched by someone who cared.

God. No. Bad, bad, Gabby.

As if sensing her thoughts, he swallowed. Once. Twice.

She almost asked him if he was okay, but he pulled back suddenly. He glanced over her shoulder, shook his head, and rounded the car, climbing in the passenger seat.

Shaken, she popped a precautionary antibiotic they kept for bites, stowed their gear, and got behind the wheel.