Adams, Cara - Calling Doctor Wolf [Shape-Shifter Clinic 1] (12 page)

“You paint?” asked Oscar.

“I painted my bedroom bright purple when I was twelve, then changed it to brown and gold, the colors of my football team, a few years later,” she replied.

“What about the ceiling?”

“Yes, the ceiling, too. My dad wasn’t so pleased about that. I had blotches of purple paint on the floorboards for years. I’d thought to roll up the rug and take it out of the room, but I hadn’t gotten as far as figuring out that I needed to cover the floor properly.”

Both men laughed.

Ambrielle stood and grinned. She was pretty sure they hadn’t brought her into the barn here to ask her to help out with the painting. One or the other of them would say what he wanted sooner or later, though.

“When the apartment is finished you’ll spend time there with us? Stay the night with us? Possibly even move in with us? We aren’t forcing you or rushing you too much? You understand we truly want to get to know you thoroughly, and to do that we need a place where we can be together?” asked Oscar.

Here it comes. It’s too soon. I wanted to think about it first!
“Yes. I understand. I’d like to spend time with you, too. I don’t know that I’ll be moving in exactly, though. I really like my apartment and don’t want to give it up just yet. I think I’ll be more like a regular guest, if that’s all right by both of you.”

Ambrielle watched as the men exchanged glances. She couldn’t read their body language, but she didn’t think either of them was angry with her.

But her answer was true. She hadn’t even thought about it until right then when Oscar asked. But she did love her little apartment. It suited her perfectly. And there was no guarantee this relationship would last very long. After all, they needed a proper apartment anyway. They were currently sleeping in patient rooms that real patients would need sometime soon. Danny might be doing the renovations on the top floor faster than he’d originally planned, but the job had been scheduled to be done for them all along. It’d just been expedited so they could more easily have sex.

When they got tired of her, or found someone else they liked better, they’d still need that apartment. Even with no woman, the time would come when they’d want to cook their own meals and have a private space where they could hang out with their friends.

Ambrielle was surprised by how much that thought hurt. She didn’t like the idea of them having another woman, replacing her. But it was inevitable. They’d find some sexy wolf to mate eventually.

Meanwhile, however, she would enjoy their company, but not give up her own apartment. The time would come when she might have to find a new job, though. The chances of her being able to continue working here once they broke up weren’t good. Every room she entered, every day she saw them and couldn’t be with them would be too painful for her, especially if she had to see them happy and rejoicing with a new lover.

Ambrielle pulled herself together. None of that had happened yet. It wasn’t even close to happening. This time was hers to spend with Danny and Oscar.

“What about some BDSM scenes? Have you conducted your research yet?” asked Danny.

Ambrielle’s body burned with sudden heat. Hell, yes. Her eyes had nearly popped out of their sockets at some of the videos she’d watched. “Yes, I’m ready for that, too. Just with the two of you, in private, though. I’m not ready to perform publically, or be shared with other men or anything like that.”

“We don’t share with anyone else.” Oscar growled, sounding very much the Dom and the wolf.

“Hell, no.”

“We’ll plan a scene and let you know when it’s ready. Likely Monday or Tuesday. Is that too soon?” asked Oscar.

“No, that’ll be fine. And on Sunday I can be here around ten to do some painting for you if that would help.”

Danny stepped up to her and kissed her gently. “Thank you. You’re a treasure and we will treasure you.”

Her heart gave a little leap. She wasn’t used to them being poetic like that, but she could get used to it, oh, so very easily.

* * * *

“Oscar, it’s Sierra Bond.”

Oscar tapped
Speaker
on his cell phone so he could write down whatever she needed him to do. It seemed like every time she phoned him she handed him a new to-do list. He’d never imagined George challenging their grandmother’s will and wanting to have the clinic could involve so much work for himself.

“Hi, Sierra. What’s new?”

“I’ve exchanged paperwork with George Thorne’s attorney and I’ve subpoenaed all your cousin’s financial records. That means his attorney is going to ask for your financial records, so can you get your accountant to send them to me in the next day or so?”

“My accountant. That would be me. Do you just want my personal finances or the clinic’s as well?”

“You own the clinic, so I need both.”

“Okay. Right. Is sending them by e-mail okay?”

“Yes. I can always pdf anything I need to print out.”

Oscar scribbled a note to remind himself. “Is this a good thing, that you need the records?”

“Until I see them I won’t know, but it’s something the judge will almost certainly want to see. Especially if there’s a large discrepancy between the value of what you inherited and what George inherited. Legally your grandparents could do whatever they wanted, but if the value of your cousin’s inheritance decreased markedly between when the will was written and when probate was granted, the judge may want to make some allowance for that. It would imply their intention and what actually happened don’t match. It’s much better that I don’t have any surprises in court. I need to know the facts now.”

“Thanks, Sierra. I understand. I’ll start work on it now.” Oscar clicked off the call.

“So much for my lazy Saturday.” He pulled his keyboard closer to himself, made a new folder labeled “Financial Records” on his desktop, and began copying his private papers and putting copies in the new file. “This is going to take all day,” he grumbled. But it had to be done. This was his clinic, for fuck’s sake. He’d worked so hard for it and it was his dream. If he had to pay George a shitload of money to keep it, well, he’d manage somehow. Get a larger bank loan or something. Whatever it took.

* * * *

Danny had spent most of Saturday framing up the new guest bedroom and storeroom on the upper floor. The bathroom and kitchen walls had been up for a week now and the plumbing was scheduled. He was looking forward to painting with Ambrielle on Sunday as a bit of a change. He’d prepared the woodwork and walls in two more patient rooms and he planned to paint the ceiling and the feature wall in one while she painted the other walls in the second one. If they got a lot done they might even have time to swap and start on the other room. It meant he’d be close enough to help her if she needed him, but that they wouldn’t be getting in each other’s way. The bedrooms weren’t actually big enough for two people, plus two ladders and lots of equipment.

He wondered just how good a painter she’d be. Painting her room as a teenager wasn’t really a huge recommendation, but he supposed it might indicate she had a natural ability. Painting walls wasn’t very hard after all. It was the woodwork that was trickier and in this case even that didn’t matter as it was the same color as the walls.

Ambrielle arrived promptly at ten in jeans with a rip across one knee, a bright pink T-shirt that said, “Give me chocolate or die,” and her hair tucked up inside a baseball cap.

He grinned at her. “I think there’s some chocolate pudding left over from the patients’ lunches yesterday. Will that do?”

“I’d prefer Hershey’s Kisses, but if that’s all you’ve got it’ll have to do.”

She laughed with him as he took her out to the barn, helped her get her roller and paint tray set up, then she disappeared into the room allocated to her to paint. He went into the next-door room, climbed his ladder, took his long-handled roller, and began working on the ceiling. By the time he was finished the ceiling he was ready for a break, so he looked in to see how Ambrielle was getting on.

She was on her hands and knees painting a skirting board and two walls were already shining with new paint. He walked into the room and looked more closely, but there were no spills or drips and no missed patches. She really could paint. And her ass looked oh-so-sexy from this position.

When he turned back to her she was sitting on her heels with a cheeky grin on her face. “Do I pass, Master?”

“Hell, yes. You can paint the rest of the clinic as far as I’m concerned.”

“It’s possible I won’t get that much done today, but this room will be finished for sure.”

“Are you ready for a break? It’s time for lunch.”

She put her brushes in the bucket he pointed out to her, then they washed their hands and walked back to Oscar’s office. Danny stuck his head around the door. “Lunchtime.”

Oscar grunted but didn’t even look up.

Ambrielle looked at Danny but stayed in the hallway. Oscar was more than usually preoccupied, Danny decided. There had to be a reason for it. He wasn’t usually dismissive like that.

“What’s up now?” Danny asked him.

“Sierra asked for this stuff yesterday and I spent all day on it, but I still haven’t finished. In fact, I’m getting slower and slower because I have to keep checking whether I’ve done each thing already or not.”

Danny shook his head. He had no idea what Oscar was talking about, but he knew his friend needed a break. “Come and have lunch with us. You’ll think faster after a meal and after you’ve given your brain a bit of a rest.”

He deliberately stood where Oscar had to see him and acknowledge him.

“You’re right. I’ll feel better after some fresh air,” said Oscar.

Danny led them out to the clinic kitchen where they made sandwiches and took them out into the garden to eat. They walked down to the lake and sat on the rocks, enjoying the sunshine on their faces and breathing the clean, fresh air deep into their lungs. Danny felt so much refreshed after the short break he knew it had to have done Oscar some good, too. He turned to his best friend. “Okay, Oscar, spit it out in simple words a poor carpenter can understand. What’s the problem?”

“Sierra needs me to give her my personal financial records, which is easy enough because I have to keep them ready for the IRS anyway, and also the clinic ones. I’m having trouble with the clinic accounts because there’s so many different bills, and payments and accounts, both incoming and outgoing. It’s taking me forever to make sure I haven’t already counted something in one place and now I’m putting it in the other.”

“I do those all the time. Why didn’t you ask me to get it for you?” asked Ambrielle.

“I—it’s the weekend and she wants it today.”

“So what? I’m here. I can do that for you this afternoon.”

“Really?”

Danny laughed. Both Ambrielle and Oscar had matching stunned looks on their faces. Oscar’s, he guessed, because the silly man hadn’t even thought to ask his bookkeeper to do the work for him. Ambrielle’s because she could have had it done and dusted long ago while he was still fussing.

“I guess I’d better finish your painting then,” said Oscar to Ambrielle.

“Don’t you mess it up,” she said fiercely.

Danny threw back his head and laughed harder. Oh dear, these two would be the death of him. Neither of them could see their attitudes were so funny, but he was in the right place at the right time and could enjoy the joke.

Finally they both started to laugh, too, and Danny knew this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Not Oscar being stressed out by his cousin, but the fellowship the three of them were sharing right now, each of them willing to help and support the other.

“Together we’ll sort it out. Together we can make everything right,” he said. And he knew that was true.

* * * *

While Oscar painted the final wall in the room Ambrielle had been working on, he kept shaking his head at himself.
Why didn’t I ask her? I knew she was here. I know she does this kind of thing all the time. So why didn’t I add one and one and get two instead of fussing and fretting over it myself and likely making a big mess she’s now trying to sort out?

Guilt almost overwhelmed him and he had to stop painting. It seemed like everything he tried to do lately he fucked up. All he wanted was for his clinic to grow and develop. Already he’d seen shape-shifters free to heal faster than humans, free to run and develop at their own pace instead of trying to hide their differences from ordinary people. Every time a patient went home he was so excited and happy for them. He knew his clinic was needed and worthwhile.