Finish What We Started (4 page)

“That’s my apartment on the upper left.” She pointed to a window on the third floor. It was an old building, modest but clean. Populated by mostly med students, either human or animal, it was also relatively quiet.

Lee pulled the truck into a parking space and hopped out. She watched with amazement as he came around the hood and opened her door for her.

“Thanks.” She rewarded him with a huge smile and swung her legs down.

“You’re welcome.” He grinned back. She wanted to kiss him there in the parking lot under the hazy yellow glow of a waning flood light.

“Can I walk you up? In case of werewolves or something.”

A chuckle bubbled up from the bottom of her throat. “Werewolves?”

He shrugged and looked impossibly sexy in the dark. He was tall. She was darn close to six feet with her wedge sandals, and he was still another inch or two taller. His shoulders were wide and rounded with muscles that looked like they came from hard work, not hours in a gym.

Instead of running her hand down his chest like she wanted to—just to see if he was muscular there, too, purely as a curiosity because she was studying anatomy—she turned toward the building. There were textbooks waiting for her, and she didn’t have time for the distraction of a hot guy right now.

“Here you are.” They reached the gate and paused. “Home safe, as advertised, with absolutely no touching.”

“Oh.” She felt stupidly disappointed.

“Can I take you out sometime?”

Candace hadn’t felt giddy about a guy in...forever. Half the time she couldn’t remember to buy bread and milk, her head was so full of skeletal systems and toxicity mnemonics. But, it wasn’t every day a drop-dead sexy guy with irreproachable manners rescued her from a cab ride home. She’d have to be dead not to be a little revved up.

“Yeah.” She nodded and looked in his eyes. “I’d like that.”

“How about Thursday night?”

Her huge test was on Friday morning. By that evening, she’d be desperate for a conversation that didn’t involve neoplastic fungal diseases. “I have a huge test the next morning. How about Friday?” Her smile was probably too big, but she couldn’t help it.

“Great.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll call you this week.”

She gave him her cell number.

Then she kissed him, because
she’d
never promised no touching.

Chapter Three

Present Day

Lee was sitting in his truck, on the phone with the lumber company. The trusses had been delivered to the clinic site but two were missing, and the guy on the other end of the phone was playing dumb.

“Not Tuesday. You need to deliver them today. Don’t try to pull this shit with me, Ronnie.” He pulled his cap off and ran the heel of his free hand across his forehead. Ronnie dithered, put him on hold, then finally came back with assurances the missing lumber would be delivered that afternoon.

“It better be or I’m coming down there.” He stabbed the end button with his finger, then tossed the cell on the seat. After jamming the Rockets hat back on his head, he hopped out of the truck, then walked across the dusty lot to where the framers were standing around in a clump, drinking coffee and bullshitting. He promised the missing wood was coming, then sent them back to work.

Before he could get away, the plumbing subcontractor pulled up and they reviewed the mechanical plans. The building inspector, who was down the street, stopped by to chat. That was a little weird, but Lee took the time to shoot the breeze since it paid to keep on the guy’s good side. All of these things took time and he was getting way behind schedule. There were two other sites he needed to visit before lunch and it didn’t look like it was going to happen.

Especially not when Dr. Carl Claesson’s car pulled up next to the truck. A visit from the man wasn’t unexpected, but seeing Candace in the passenger seat gave him an instant headache. It was obvious they’d be seeing a lot of each in the next couple of months, and they were going to have to slog through it like adults.

He lifted his hand. “Doctors Claesson.”

“We’re not here to pester,” the elder Claesson said with a smile. “We were just passing by and wanted to see how things were coming.”

“Anytime.” Lee shook the man’s hand. “There’s not really much to see yet, beyond the slab.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Candace emerge from the car. She peered at the beginnings of her clinic, studiously avoiding looking in his direction.

He would have thought that after all this time they could act like adults.
Fine.
With a perverse burst of spite, he turned to face her. “We’re going to need to get together soon to pick out tile and paint and stuff. Do you want to do that here or in your father’s office?”

Candace looked to her father, but he was already wandering off. She kept staring in that direction. “It doesn’t matter. Here, I guess.”

“Great. How about Wednesday at two?” He barreled on, sort of enjoying feeling just a little like a bully. “I’ll collect some samples and you can see what you like.”

There was some hesitation, probably while she tried to figure out how to get the upper hand. Sorry, not this time, sweetheart. He volleyed another series of questions. “Do you have a color scheme in mind? A beige or maybe something more vivid? What about the tile? Ceramic or granite?” When she didn’t answer, he fisted his hands on his hips. “Have you given this any thought at all?”

Turning to face him, she narrowed her eyes. “Every day of my life since I was eight.”

He sighed. Yes, he was oh-so-aware of exactly how driven this woman was. He also realized he was being a dick. It was time to back off. After all, this was her job and she and her father were his customers.

He dialed back the aggressive sarcasm and gave her a gentle grin. “Right. I’ll find some things I think you’ll like and meet you here. Is two o’clock good?”

Damn it, they should be able to have a civil conversation with each other. No, they should be able to be polite. Five years was a long time. He was over it. She should be, too. He’d dealt with difficult customers before, and he could be a professional if it killed him.

* * *

Candace got to the site at exactly two o’clock. She timed it specifically so there would be no lingering. Make the color decisions and get the hell out. That was the plan. If he was professional, she could be too. But she had no problem going several bare-knuckled rounds if that was what he was looking for. And really, if she was being honest with herself, it would probably feel satisfying to put him in his place. She’d loved him once and he’d screwed with her head. Payback was a bitch.

She was sitting on the trunk of her borrowed car, parked a bit away from the rest of the construction vehicles, and reading the latest
Veterinarian Today
when he pulled his pickup next to her, five minutes late. He hauled a box out of the cab, opened the tailgate, then plunked it down with a thud. “Hey,” he said with a grin. “Am I late?”

She shrugged like she didn’t care what the hell he did. “A couple minutes.” She stood and tossed the magazine through the driver’s window.

“Sorry. Today has been crazy. As usual.” He grinned at her but she didn’t respond. There was no way she was making this easy on him. Being professional didn’t mean she had to be a pushover. “Okay, so I teased you about it before, but have you given any further thought to the color scheme?”

She shook her head and approached the open bed of his truck. Peered into the box. “Wow. This is a little intimidating.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” He pulled out a rubber banded selection of wall colors and fanned them out like a deck of cards. “I separated these because they’re the most common. Linen white and Navajo white are popular but if these seem too stark, there’s always Muslin. I like it because it’s a bit warmer. More welcoming. You know what I mean?”

She examined the colors, then looked to him. “Maybe something beiger? Is that a word? Beiger?”

He smiled. “Yeah. I believe that’s the technical term. How about this?” He separated Shaker beige and Lenox tan from the others.

His niceness wasn’t fooling her. She knew exactly how nasty he could be, and she wasn’t going to forget that no matter how many damn paint samples he patiently suggested.

She stroked a finger across the second sample and tried to picture the waiting room.

“I like this one, I think.”

“Nice. So let’s see what tile goes.”

Her eyebrows came together. “This is only for the waiting room area, right?”

“Yeah.” He grabbed his folder. “I’ve already ordered the—” he looked down and read from his notes, “—bacteriostatic flooring for the surgical areas. Your dad was pretty specific on the sterile requirements for back there. Usually, tile would be the ideal flooring option for the reception area, but I’ve been to your dad’s clinic and seen the abuse that lobby takes, so I suggest we look at the laminates for up front. I mean we can seal the hell out of the tile and grout, but it seems to me there’s an awful lot of puppy accidents and it’ll be much easier to sanitize laminate.”

From another box he showed her several pieces of laminate wood that he thought would go well with her paint selection. He made suggestions based on what would look nice and, more importantly, what would be easiest to maintain. He was attentive and paid attention to her concerns. He kept smiling at her. It shouldn’t make her angry, but it did.

She’d revved herself up for an OK Corral showdown and he was feeding her polite assistance. After all was said and done, they’d chosen the paint color for the waiting and exam rooms and laminate wood for both as well. The process had been smooth and professional and wholly unfulfilling.

“You still game for picking out cabinets and countertops?” he asked with another grin. “It’s pretty hot out here.”

“I’m fine,” she told him and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She felt herself slipping into easy conversation with Lee, being lulled into relaxed discussion. She didn’t like it.

So, she made the conscious decision to be difficult. She didn’t like the color, the wood grain, the pattern of anything else he showed her. What should have taken ten or fifteen minutes, based on how quickly the other things were chosen, had still not been decided after an hour. She tossed her head and rose to her feet. “I don’t like any of what you’ve brought. None of that cabinetry will do.”

He nodded patiently. “There are other options, of course, but they’re not within the budget your father agreed to.”

It dawned on her that, besides being professional
,
he was acting like they were friends. He’d called her a selfish bitch during their last fight, and she’d been so wrecked by their breakup she’d believed what he’d said was true for way too long. If he expected selfish, then she’d give it to him. “I don’t really care. This is my clinic, not my father’s.” Of course it was company money—a company headed up by her father—and she was talking out of her ass, but she was getting into the groove now. “I’ll make sure that Daddy buys what I want.”

Lee didn’t take the bait even though she sounded like a complete bitch. Stacking up the door samples, he said with easy geniality, “I’ll pick up the higher grade samples to show you. My schedule is full until Friday, though.”

How irritating that by being nice to her, he made her feel like a total witch. All of this was backfiring. Damn it. “Friday is fine.”

On Thursday morning, she called and left a message that she’d decided to select the cabinet he’d originally recommended and there was no need to meet on Friday. She didn’t want another meeting. She didn’t like how much time she’d spent thinking about him afterward. Sure as hell she didn’t like him having a walk-on part in her dream the night before. Nothing happened in it, but she’d managed to go three years since the last time he’d wandered around unchecked in her subconscious and even that wasn’t long enough.

She was ready to begin her life and that didn’t involve reliving her past.

Chapter Four

“Don’t let Milo get dirty.”

Mark’s wife, Holly, fluttered around Lee while he balanced her dog on one hand. “What kind of dog is this again?”

“You’re making me very nervous. Hold him with both hands. Actually, he likes to be cradled. There you go, like that. Against your chest.” Holly calmed down when he did as she asked. Milo blinked beady little eyes at him.

“Not much of a killer are you, Milo?” Lee spoke to the bow on the top of the dog’s head.

“He’s a Yorkie, not a mastiff,” she told him with disdain. Then her voice went up about seven octaves as she spoke to the dog. “My widdow Milo is plenty scarwy when he needs to be, huh, Milo?”

Lee rolled his eyes. “He’s a Yorkie?” It sounded like a candy bar, not a canine. He also happened to know that Holly had spent several thousand dollars on the dog. Had it flown in from a special breeder in Boston.

“A Yorkshire Terrier. They are a very fine dog originally bred for killing rats.” She adjusted his bow.

“That’s because you’re as little as a rat, right, Milo?” The dog panted at him.

His tiny sister-in-law gave him a quelling look, hands on hips, teetering on four-inch heels that still only brought her to his shoulder. “Do you want to borrow my dog or what?”

He bent and kissed her cheek. “Sorry. Yes, I want to borrow your dog.” Because I need an excuse—an animal excuse—to see a certain veterinarian.

She gave him a look, then turned to finish assembling the dog’s crap—except Holly had called it
accoutrement
and said it with a French accent. There was a pink carrying case loaded with toys and a rhinestone leash. She fussed over three different doggy sweaters, finally choosing one that looked like a sailor outfit.

“Oh sweet Jesus.” He pulled the dog away from her. “You’re not going to make him wear that, are you?”

“He likes it.” She held it up reverently, as if it were a christening gown.

“I’m certain he does not. He’s a man, sort of. He still has his balls, right?” He raised the tiny dog and peeked. “Yep. Balls. He’s not wearing a sailor sweater unless he’s actually joined the Marines.” He looked at the dog again. “You joining the Marines, dude? Nope?” He looked at Holly. “No sweater.”

“I should make you take him in my purse.” For a little thing, Mark’s wife was feisty.

“I’m only going to have him for a couple of hours. Two, tops. He’ll manage with no damn clothes just this once. It’s July. He’s not gonna catch a cold or anything.” And he’s a
dog
.

Holly’s hands went back to her hips. “Why don’t you get your own dog if you want to go to the vet so badly?”

“I don’t want a dog.” He snapped the flashy leash to Milo’s rhinestone collar, then set him on the ground. He came up to about the top of Lee’s Adidas. Ridiculous.

“Please take good care of him,” Holly told him while walking them to the door.

“You wanna know what I think?” he asked from the porch. “I think you just need to have a kid and stop torturing this dog.”

“Your opinion has been noted.” She threw a squeaky toy into the cab of his truck.

“Thanks, Hol. We’ll be careful.”

Milo sat on the bench seat next to Lee and panted into the air conditioning vent.

“All right, doggy.” Milo turned towards Lee and cocked his head like the RCA dog. “Here’s the plan. This vet we’re going to see is named Candace, but don’t call her Candy. She really hates that, which is why I always do it. She’s remarkably fun to tease. You should see her when she gets all riled up.” Milo blinked with what could have been loosely interpreted as intelligence, or at the very least interest, so Lee continued. “We used to go out, but I haven’t seen her in five years. She went to Scotland for vet school.”

That had been an awful month, when she first left. The complete opposite of the six months before, when they’d been nearly inseparable, like they weren’t whole when they were apart. God, they’d been so young then.

“We’re gonna go in there and turn this woman around. Right now, she hates me. So you be super cute. You can do that, right?” Lee cast a critical eye over the dog who was, indeed, super cute if you liked tiny pooches who bounced and yipped. Milo was very girl-friendly, which was why he’d borrowed him from Holly. Milo could get him through Candy’s door. Over the last several days, he’d contacted her multiple times, needing decisions on design issues, and she’d avoided him. Instead of taking his calls, she emailed—curt and to the point. Maybe he could have made executive decisions himself or, at the very least, called her father, but he couldn’t stand that she hated him. During their breakup he’d been the one who’d gotten fucked over, so why was she acting like the injured party?

Okay, maybe he did know the answer to that. He generally tried not to think of the things he’d said, the awful names he’d called her when she’d left, but they were always there in the back of his mind. He didn’t know if he could ever forget that she’d abandoned him when his world was falling apart, but he still needed to apologize and get her forgiveness for what he’d said to her that day. He couldn’t stand that she hated him. That’s where Milo came in.

Milo crawled across the seat and into his lap so he could see out the driver’s side window. At least he didn’t shake all the time like that horrible Chihuahua that lived next to his mother. And the Yorkie didn’t bark all the time either. Really, Milo fit his sister-in-law to a tee. Just like Holly, he was petite, cute and high-maintenance.

“So what I want you to do, dog, is make me look good. Can you do that?”

Milo licked him then returned his attention back to the road.

Holding the smallest dog on the planet, Lee told the girl behind the reception desk that they were there for their appointment with Dr. Claesson. Then he had a vision of her brother or father seeing him with Holly’s dog, so he clarified that he meant Dr. Candace Claesson.

“Is this a new pet we’re seeing?”

“Um, yeah.” Milo bounced around at Lee’s feet until he picked him up.

“Hi, cute little guy,” the receptionist squealed. Milo reveled in the attention. “Here you go. Fill these forms out and the doctor will see you in a few minutes.”

Oh, jeez. There were like four forms to fill out and sign. Page one asked for his personal information. He could do that. He inked in his name, phone number and the address for his house and that of his construction company.
What made him chose this veterinary practice?
He paused. He probably shouldn’t write Hot Vet. Eh, he’d come back to that one.
Did he have pet insurance?
Was that a thing? The bottom line asked him to attest that the above information was true and accurate. His eyebrows flew up. This seemed a bit extreme for a welcome form. He signed his name extra messy. That way he could deny plausibility in court.

Form number two.
Pet Name
. Milo
.
He completed the easy stuff. Thank God he’d asked Holly what kind of a dog Milo was.

Color.
He looked at Milo with a critical eye. Brown. Black. Cream. He wrote “Lots” on the form. Next, it asked when the pet had received various vaccinations. It listed eight of them.

“Dude, did you get all these shots? Poor puppy.”

Milo whined. Lee left the dates blank.

What do you feed your pet?
Um, food? Knowing Holly and Mark, the dog probably got lobster and caviar.

Does your pet have any “favorites?”
Lee chuckled and wrote, “Hates sweaters.”

The receptionist took his forms and he and Milo sat down next to an old man with an equally ancient cat. Either they were both asleep or they were dead. He watched them intently for signs of life while Milo snuffled around the base of the chair. Finally the cat’s ear twitched and Lee took it for a good sign. At least the cat wasn’t dead.

The old man must have sensed Lee staring, because he opened one eye and stared back. It was at that point that Milo noticed the cat and the cat noticed Milo. There was a great hiss followed by a terrified yip and then a quickly spreading yellow puddle on the floor.

“Oh, crap.” Lee jumped up and snatched the petrified Yorkie. “No, don’t crap.”

“Hell of a dog you’ve got there,” the old man said. The cat gave both Lee and Milo a disparaging look.

Milo might not be much of a canine, but Lee didn’t like the snooty look coming from the cat. It’s not like Whiskers had all that much to feel superior about. His hair was patchy, and he had a milky eye.

“Mr. Bennett and Milo.” An employee poked her head out of the side door leading to the back. “We’re ready for you.”

“Um, yeah, we had a little accident out here.”

She poked her head out a bit farther. “No worries. Happens all the time. I’ll get someone to clean it up. Come with me.”

Her name tag said Molly and she subjected Milo to a whole battery of indignities. “What is your puppy here for?”

“To see Dr. Claesson.”

“Because...?”

“He’s a dog and she’s a vet.” This woman was an idiot.

Molly rubbed her eyebrow and laughed with zero humor. “I’ll put down
check up
.”

* * *

Candace couldn’t figure out how to avoid going into the exam room. Lee had managed to trap her into a face-to-face visit after she’d avoided him all week. If she got someone else to take his appointment, if she chickened out, then he won. That wasn’t going to happen.

She loitered outside the room, reading the chart. The Lee she’d known didn’t like dogs much. And even if he’d all of a sudden developed some desperate desire to own a dog, she had a hard time believing he’d choose a Yorkie.

Maybe he’d inherited it from an ex-girlfriend or something.

“Do you need something, Doctor?” Molly paused by the autoclave.

Candace smiled. “No. I’m all right.”

“That one’s fi-i-iine.” Molly stretched the word out to three syllables and indicated the closed door.

“Who?” she asked, but she already knew.

“The Yorkie’s daddy in there. I’ll bet he’s gay.”

Candace laughed. “No. He’s definitely not gay.” The things that man could do with his hands...She gave herself a mental slap. That path led to disaster.

Taking a deep breath, she slid open the pocket door to the patient room. “Milo, I presume? I had no idea you had a dog. Especially a Yorkie.” Candace shook her head at the big manly-man with the girly dog. Then she dragged her eyes back to the dog because if she didn’t, she would end up staring at Lee all day. She wished there was a vaccine for this.

Lee shrugged. “Don’t be a hater. Milo’s a cool dog.”

“Well, he’s certainly cute.” She placed the puppy on the exam table and looked into his eyes. Pulling back his lips, she checked his teeth and gums. His lymph glands felt good.

“So what have you been up to these days?” Lee asked, and leaned his hip against the table.

“Taking my state boards, that sorta thing.” Short, sweet and to the point. She put the stethoscope in her ears and listened to the puppy’s heart and lungs. He danced a little on the table when she moved down to listen to his stomach and bowel. “How long have you had Milo?”

“Umm...” He stared at the dog. “A couple of weeks. I’m assuming you passed all your exams and are board certified. I mean, since I’m trusting you with my little buddy here.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. “Yes. With flying colors.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “You finished school in Glasgow, then? Like you’d planned?”

“Yep.” She kept her answer brief, hoping it might discourage him from chatting, but also remembering the easy way they used to fall into conversation.

He put one hand on the table and leaned into it, holding Milo with the other to steady him while she felt his skeleton, paying special attention to his knees. She rotated the joint and felt for slippage.

“So,” he prompted, “Did you see the monster?”

She gathered her eyebrows. “Monster?”

“Oh, come on,” he teased. “The Loch Ness Monster.”

She snorted. “Yes, indeed. Nessie was my senior final.”

He chuckled, low and throaty, and she cursed herself. Lee’s laughter was like bottled sex. It always hit her low in the belly and spread through her like warm, thick syrup. Goddamn it.
Dial it back, Candace.

He smiled at her and she went from warm to hot.

“Of course it was. Overachiever.” He flashed her a smile. “I’ll bet you tamed the hell out of that monster.”

She yanked her gaze from his and returned her attention to the Yorkie. She checked his toenails—recently trimmed. And...painted. Curious.

“I like Milo’s pedi.” She held up one wee canine leg with her index finger. Milo did a three-legged prance in a circle, obviously proud of his beauty regimen. Lee looked at the dog, then at her without any expression on his face whatsoever, which made it even funnier.

She consulted the chart again. “Is this Milo’s first veterinary appointment?”

“Yeah. Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily. I’m assuming you did your homework when choosing a Yorkie, but I’d like to go over a few important things with you about the breed.”

Lee sighed. “All right, shoot.”

“You need to be consistent with what you feed him and he needs to be fed often. Milo here has a delicate digestive system that can easily cause diarrhea and vomiting.” Lee made a face. “Just be consistent with what you’re feeding him and don’t give him a lot of high-fat people food.”

He nodded. “Okay. Got it. No cheese puffs.”

She ruffled the puppy’s coat and checked his skin. “Also, don’t wash him too often. It can dry out his coat. This breed has trouble with allergies like food, pollen and especially grass. All of that will dry out his skin and ultimately cause hair loss.”

Lee started to chuckle. “I’m sorry. You’re telling me my dog is allergic to grass? Like what’s in the yard. And the park. Where dogs play.”

“No, I’m saying he may have allergies and that one of them could be grass.”

“And that he may go bald?”

“Patchy baldness is not unheard of.”

His smile was gone, replaced with a look of concern. He spoke to the dog. “Milo, my man. Your hair is your best thing.”

She flicked the little red ribbon on his head. “Yes. This is a very butch bow.”