Читать книгу Tracking You - Kelly Moran - Страница 12

Two days without Gabby at work and Flynn was rethinking the distance thing. It had become blatantly obvious that he’d taken her for granted.

Brent was no idiot, and he was damn good at his job. Yet, he’d been primarily Cade’s tech for years and knew those patients better. He and Gabby alternated as Drake’s surgery assistant when needed, too. But working with Flynn was a far cry from working with his brothers.

Most of the time, Flynn didn’t get down on himself or hope for things that could never be. Such as ears that worked. However, the past forty-eight hours had stretched his patience thin and had him wishing to be normal.

Because damn. Brent wasn’t Gabby, and the situation only forced him to realize his wayward…attraction to her had to stop. He could not go another day like the last two and avoid a homicide charge. And if he gave in to the urge to make a move, to shove them over the friendship line, everything as he knew it would fly to Kingdom Come.

While on the road yesterday, his schedule had the senior citizen complex on the agenda. Flynn had to remind Brent to interpret sign language for the clients in order for Flynn to ask routine questions. Brent was also unaccustomed to listening to bowel sounds, lungs, and heartbeat, as Cade typically did that in his exams. Even routine vaccinations and nail trims had been a clusterfuck of complicated. Brent hadn’t known where to find supplies in Gabby’s travel bag, and spent too much time digging through it to acquire what he’d needed. What should’ve been a six-hour day had turned into nine.

If he hadn’t watched the tech struggle so much, Flynn would’ve sworn Brent had done the disconcerted routine on purpose just to mess with him.

This morning had been significantly smoother, but nowhere near as fluent as when Gabby was with him. He guessed he’d just never noticed the little things. How she always automatically signed so he could follow along, how she knew to use the stethoscope to listen while he did the physical part of exams to calm the animals and distract, knew the clients and what questions to ask.

Mostly, she knew him. She could interpret his signals, deduce what he needed, and act without hesitation. She was irreplaceable. And that was just the work aspect of their life.

Personally, spending forty-eight hours not seeing her was akin to withdrawal. He’d had to force himself not to head to her place after work to check in on her. Resorting to pacing, bad TV, and scrolling the Internet, he’d hoped she had enough sense to call him if she needed anything. So, he’d not visited. The much-needed boundaries were never going to hold if he didn’t stand his ground.

Then again, all this might be some screwed-up fantasy in his head. Gabby had never shown any signs of sexual interest in him before. Just because he was losing his marbles didn’t mean she was.

Brent waved to get his attention in the small exam room. That was a problem, too. Flynn’s head hadn’t been in the game. He kept drifting out of focus at odd intervals. If he didn’t start paying attention, he might hurt one of the animals.

And, of course—of course—today had to be the day Mixey was scheduled for her yearly visit at the clinic. The German Shepherd was not fond of Flynn and seemed to like Brent even less. Even as a pup, the dog had been skittish. She kept darting her how-could-you-do-this-to-me eyes between Flynn and Brent, her body language giving Flynn pause with every move. She didn’t have a red flag in her chart, meaning she’d never bitten anyone, but after today, Flynn figured that was just a matter of time.

Two minutes before, he’d asked the owner to leave the room in order to get the shots over with. The dog appeared more anxious with her owner there, and this was going to suck donkey balls just getting Mixey to hold still long enough to inject her. The poor dog kept looking at the door like she expected Gabby to walk through.

Because the dog loved Gabby. Who didn’t?

Flynn sighed and looked at Zoe, who he’d asked to come into the exam room for an extra set of hands. “We need to do this fast. Brent, you lift her onto the table. Zoe, help hold. I’ll inject. In and out.”

They nodded, and Flynn moved to the counter to draw the syringe, keeping his back to Mixey so she couldn’t see. He quickly capped the needle, dropped it in his pocket, and nodded to Brent and Zoe. They sprung into action.

Hell broke loose.

* * * *

Gabby grinned as she walked into Animal Instincts just after lunch and found a full waiting room. She was supposed to be off the rest of the day, but she couldn’t sit around her house anymore crying over movies and eating ice cream. Her scrubs wouldn’t fit if she stayed at that rate. Besides, the swelling in her arm was completely gone and she’d been fever free.

She’d missed the noise and wet dog smell. Zoe, Brent, and Avery had popped by after work the two previous days to check on her. Drake and Cade had called. Flynn had been unusually absent, but she figured he thought she’d be resting. It wasn’t the same, though, being away. She’d even missed the stupid clinic bird, who was perched on top of his cage behind Avery’s desk.

Squawk. “Knocking on heaven’s door.”

Yeah. Gossip only spoke in song titles and lyrics. The cockatoo’s former owner had ditched him four years ago and Gossip had become their…uh, pride and joy. She-rah, the clinic cat, was mounted on her throne on top of the printer, sending looks of disdain about the room. Thor, their giant Great Dane and the biggest wuss to dogkind, was probably under Avery’s desk, hiding from She-rah. Or its shadow.

Missed this so hard.

Spotting Mrs. Hinderman in reception, Gabby made her way over. “Hey there. Is Mixey in for a checkup?”

The fifty-year-old woman pressed her hands to her ample chest and let out a gale-force wind. “Thank God you’re here. Mixey doesn’t like anyone but you and she’s so nervous.”

Aw. “Brent is wonderful with animals. I’ll bet Mixey is just fine. I was heading back there, anyway. I’ll go take a peek.”

“Thank you so much!”

Gabby oomphed as the woman hugged her in a vise. She briefly met Avery’s amused gaze over Mrs. Hinderman’s shoulder. Oh look, their client had missed a spot when she’d colored the gray out of her black hair. Right there, over her ear… “Gotta let me go if I’m gonna check on the dog.”

“Yes. Sorry. Really happy to see you.”

Squawk. “Love is a battlefield.”

Grinning, Gabby made her way down the hall to Flynn’s exam room and stopped short. Brent’s voice was raised to holy-shit level and Zoe—Zoe?—was squealing like a pig. Zoe was their groomer. Sure, she helped in the clinic on occasion, but what was she doing in there if Brent was assisting? When her tone increased to something close to banshee, Gabby opened the door. And froze.

Mixey was belly down on the exam table, her nose buried in Flynn’s crotch. Zoe straddled the dog backwards with her ass in Flynn’s face. Brent was hunched over the German Shepherd’s rear end looking, by all accounts, like he was humping the animal. Tufts of brown and white fur flittered down like confetti.

They stilled and turned slowly to look at her.

“Hi.” Gabby waved awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your foursome. Should I give you some privacy?”

At hearing her voice, Mixey whined and wiggled. Brent cursed a wicked streak, attempting to hold tighter. Or hump more adamantly. Flynn winced, and Gabby realized the dog was not only nose-deep in his junk, but had her teeth sunk into his pants.

Oh boy.

“You’re a riot, you know that?” Zoe blew green strands of hair off her face. “Help us, would you?”

Unable to stop herself, she laughed. “Mixey, drop!”

The dog unhinged from Flynn and shot up off the table, knocking Zoe to the floor with a squeak. Brent’s hands shot up in surrender, possibly prayer.

“Come here, pretty girl.” Gabby knelt on the floor and accepted the dog in her arms. “Who’s a good girl?”

Over the dog’s back, she wiggled her fingers for Flynn to pass her the syringe. When it was in hand, she uncapped it, injected the dog, and handed it back to Flynn backwards all while cooing to Mixey. She never even noticed the vaccine amongst her tail wagging and licking.

Standing, she turned to Flynn. Though irritation edged his eyes, the corners of his lips curved as if fighting his happy response to see her. His wavy strawberry blond hair was sticking up in a rat’s nest and his jaw sported a shadow just shades darker than his head. Poor Flynn had a rough morning.

Their gazes locked, and she could’ve sworn desire grappled with longing in his eyes. But that was silly. She’d convinced herself what had happened during their dance lesson had been a fluke. And then again when he’d bandaged her hand at Mrs. Crosby’s.

“Don’t mind me. I’m fine.” Zoe rose from the floor where Mixey had knocked her and smoothed her hair.

“Shh.” Brent waved his hand. “They’re having a moment.” He pressed his fingers to his lips as if sonnets might spontaneously burst from within.

Gabby opened her mouth to deny the accusation, but when she returned her attention to Flynn, the atmosphere around her shifted. A charge of awareness.

All too conscious of his height as he looked down at her, his perfectly angular face, she attempted a swallow, but her throat wouldn’t work. Wide shoulders, solid thighs, and a narrow waist rocked a pair of scrubs. The muscles in his arms coiled and bunched as he kept his hands low on his hips. Her heart pounded until all she could make out was the roar in her ears.

God. They were having a moment. Dizzy with the feeling, she ran her gaze over him again, wondering what in the hell had happened to normal. Because her and Flynn sexually aware of each other? That was nowhere near the realm of normal.

Flynn’s gaze only left hers to dip to her mouth and up again. The intensity in those hazel depths had the oxygen seeping from her lungs. He really was a very handsome man. And smart. And kind. And...

With her cheeks hot, she dropped her gaze to his naughty zone. But that only made things worse. Because now she was picturing him naked. And liking it. She slapped her hands over her eyes.

The entire crotch of his light blue scrubs was damp with Mixey’s drool, looking as if he’d wet himself. Damn it. She’d looked again. Bad eyes.

“Um.” Her gaze shot back up. And wow. It was hot in here. “Are you okay? Did she hurt any of your…man bits?”

Flynn’s brows rose and his expression indicated he had issue with her terminology. “She had a hold of my pants, not the goods.”

Goods. Yes, goods. She’d bet they were very, very…

“Happy to have you back.” He closed the few feet of distance between them, cupped her cheeks, and smacked a fast, hard kiss to her mouth. It was about as sexual as a hurricane, but just as shocking. He pulled away swiftly, leaving her reeling. “You’re never allowed a day off again.”

With that, he strode from the room, Mixey at his heels.

Silence hung. And hung.

“Oooh, girl. What was that about?”

Snapping out of her shock, she eyed Brent. Shook her head to clear it. “Nothing.”

Zoe crossed her arms. “That come-hither smolder he was directing at you wasn’t nothing.”

“Sweet baby Jesus. I didn’t imagine it, did I?”

Brent tsked. “Not unless it was a group hallucination.”

“When did you guys start…?” Zoe held out her hand as if unable to pull the words from her mouth. The idea of her and Flynn together did seem quite odd, especially if one took the last five minutes out of the equation.

“No. Nothing happening. Honest.” She ran her hand over her forehead, torn between the giddy bubble in her belly and panic in her chest. “I think the Battleaxes are messing with us. Kinda threw us off-kilter.”

Zoe shrugged. “That explains it.”

Brent made a sound of noncommittal. “What are you wearing to the Spring Fling? It’s next week. And you need to bring it for the kissing booth, sister.”

Damn it. The thought of just what population of Redwood Ridge would show up to kiss her had an involuntary shudder ripping through her. She kept replaying her non-date with Tom and knowing he wasn’t the only one who’d skimmed right past her as if not there. “No one’s going to show up, anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

Brent cocked a hip. “Not if you wear your pretty little sundresses or jeans, they won’t. You need to snazz it up. Make them see you differently. We’re going shopping after work.”

She closed her eyes and sought patience. If she couldn’t be herself, would she really want a guy noticing her when she wasn’t? “The last time we went shopping, I wound up with a drawer full of see-through panties.” Which no one saw but her. Her love life was a sad state of affairs when her cat and her gay friend were the only ones who viewed her undergarments.

“And those are hot. We’re going to buy you an outfit to ensure someone has the desire to take it off.”

Sounded like a lost cause. “Fine. But I draw the line at miniskirts.”

Brent frowned. “You take the fun out of everything.” His gaze skimmed over her as if plotting. “We need to do your makeup, too. Slut you up a tad.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he turned to Zoe. “You can do it.”

Zoe fisted her hands on her hips. “And what makes you think I know anything about slutty makeup application?”

Brent’s eyebrows shot up in an oh please move.

“Okay, I totally do.” Zoe sighed and looked at her. “One come-fuck-me makeup job, coming up. I’ll be over Saturday morning. Buck up. My cartoon caricature booth is right next to yours. We can make fun of people behind their backs.”

Zoe had done all the murals inside the clinic. Though she never called herself an artist, she was pretty great. For most of the town events, she was parked at a booth selling quick caricature sketches. Maybe the Spring Fling would be less sucky with Zoe to hang with.

They opened the exam room door and she followed them down the hall. “I can dress myself and do my own cosmetics, you know.”

Brent laughed so hard tears trekked his cheeks.