Skin Heat (7 page)

You bastards thought you broke me, but you didn’t. I will rise.
Then he began the long hike back to the house because when he woke from one of those nightmares, he was never in his own bed.

 

Neva worked at
a mad pace, and the following week went in a rush. Hunting season always brought its share of calamities. Having an extra body around helped greatly, and Zeke proved amenable to pitching in as needed. Sometimes there was no substitute for a strong man willing to hold a frightened animal. She and Julie occasionally had trouble with the larger dogs.

Over time, she noticed he had a real rapport; injured creatures calmed around him. He was as patient and capable around animals as he was strange and awkward in the presence of people. And unlike the others who had come and gone, he was dead reliable. With him on board, she found herself working shorter hours because she didn’t have to stay late and clean up.

The downside? Most nights, she had too much time to think.

Fortunately, this wasn’t one of those times. She had a Great Dane in the exam room and a worried owner to deal with. She donned her professional smile and went in. To her surprise, she found Zeke in with them. The dog had been whimpering pitifully when they arrived, but she was fine now. Maybe that was just because she was lying down. That suggested a wide variety of possible causes.

“Got a sec?” he asked.

Nonplussed, she stepped into the hall with him with a parting smile for the client. “What’s up?”

“Her hips hurt.”

“The owner told you that?”

He shrugged.

“Great Danes are prone to hip dysplasia and Yancy’s getting on in years. Thanks for letting me know.”

She didn’t understand why they’d needed to have that conversation in private, but Neva had given up trying to make sense of Zeke’s quirks. It was enough that he helped so much; the practice ran smoother than it ever had. He’d picked up their routine quickly and cleaned the exam room between patients without being asked. He never complained, no matter how dirty the job, and sometimes . . . it got pretty bad.

The rest of the day sped by in a blur of appointments. At seven that night, she stood resting her head against her office door. She had finished the last chart and it was time to go home, if she could muster the energy, because in the morning, she had another full day scheduled.

“Tired?” Zeke asked.

She had gotten used to the idea he wouldn’t leave until she did, though she only paid him for four hours a day. Which was why she’d started trying to get out of the building earlier. He seemed worried about her safety. But then she’d noticed the way he was always scanning the darkness, like he thought something scary lurked out there. He never seemed to relax fully; she just didn’t know why.

“Just hungry most likely.”

“No lunch?”

Thinking back brought none to mind. An emergency surgery had screwed up her afternoon, requiring a couple of routine checks to be bumped until tomorrow. “Nope. But I’m ready to head out, if you are.”

They checked the place once more and then she led the way to the front door, where she set the alarm and then locked up. He went out first, his expression wary as he checked the shadows. It was almost like he expected somebody laying in wait.

“Dinner?”

Neva paused, keys in hand. “Are you asking if I plan to eat?”

“Wanna get some? Tom’s Diner?”

Now she had date confusion. Maybe he just meant for them to share a meal since they were leaving at the same time. Nobody liked eating alone. If it had been Julie issuing the invitation, she wouldn’t hesitate, so maybe she was making it more complicated than it needed to be. The other attendants had been . . . different than Zeke. The first man had been in his late fifties, and the second had the drawn features of the habitual drinker, though he had been careful not to come to work drunk. If either of them had asked her to dinner, she wouldn’t have hesitated over the no.

“Sure. I’ll follow you.”

“No need. Can ride with you and then run back.”

“It’s two and a half miles.”

He shrugged in answer and walked to her Honda. She got in and leaned over to unlock the door for him and then scrambled to clear the junk off the passenger seat. It was easy to tell she hadn’t had anyone in her car in a while. Once he joined her, she felt conscious of his height, though he didn’t try to take up more space.

Nerves made her ramble about the pets she’d seen today, and she was relieved when the diner lights appeared on the left. The place was pretty packed, since apart from Armando’s and Pie in the Sky, there were no other options for dining out. And Tom’s had the most varied menu by far. The diner had a retro air: black and white trimmed in red neon. A chalkboard announced the daily specials.

She chose a booth near the bathrooms, mostly because it was the last one left. Emmylou Fish hustled over with the laminated page that comprised the menu. Zeke took his with an air of abstraction.

“Today’s special is chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn. Served with your choice of roll or biscuit. Y’all know what you want?”

“Sounds good,” Zeke said. “Biscuit, please.”

“I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger. Salad instead of fries.”

“Sure thing.” Emmylou scrawled the order and took it to the window behind the counter.

People watched them, whispering, and soon it would be all over town where she’d gone and who she’d been with. When she was a kid, it made having fun in this town damn near impossible. This time, Neva didn’t let it bother her. She ignored the stares, but they appeared to trouble Zeke. Trying to make small talk proved fruitless while he fiddled with the salt and pepper and flipped his thumb back and forth across the sugar and sweetener packets. Eventually he went to the bathroom to wash up, but his mood hadn’t improved when he came back.

He sat back down, his jaw tight. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“You get used to it.”

“Yeah?”

“Okay, no. But you learn to deal. When I was a kid, I made faces at people.” She glanced over at Mrs. Gillespie—still watching their every move—and stuck out her tongue. “As you can see, sometimes I still do. It helps.”

He laughed, and then exhibited the most charming astonishment, as if he didn’t immediately recognize the sound. The smile eased his face of its sharp tension, and she couldn’t stop looking at him.
The color of those eyes ought to be called nightfall in heaven. Oh no.
She really couldn’t think this way about him.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

Emmylou returned with their food, interrupting the moment. Probably just as well—she had been staring in a decidedly unbosslike way. Over the course of the meal, Neva noticed he ate with excessive care, paying attention to his knife and fork at all times. He acted almost as if he had trouble with minor motor functions but she didn’t think that was the case, based on his graceful, almost predatory walk.

By the time the waitress brought the checks, the atmosphere had eased between them. Emmylou had split them into two, but she raised a brow and grinned, obviously in search of gossip. “Should I have put it on one?”

“No,” Neva said. “This is fine.”

“Let me.” He plucked her green ticket from her hand and strode toward the cash register.

It’s not a date,
she told herself.
Even if he buys. Nothing wrong with that.

But from Emmylou’s avid expression, she scented a juicy story and leaned in, effectively blocking Neva’s retreat. “So you’re seeing Zeke Noble? What’s
that
like?” Her green gaze lingered on his butt.

Dammit, she had to try and head this off. Maybe a big tip would work; she fished a ten out of her wallet. “It’s not like that. We work together.”

The other woman just grinned. “Well, aren’t you the dirty girl?”

With a huff of breath, she gave up and edged her way out of the booth and went to join Zeke, who was finishing up at the register. Mrs. Gillespie still nursed her coffee, eyeing them with undisguised speculation. Damn, sometimes she hated being a Harper. Neva made her face impassive, like she didn’t know or care what everyone thought. It was none of their business.

“Ready?” she asked.

“No need to wait on me.”

“I know that. But there’s no way I’m letting you walk back to your truck at this hour. It’s not that far.”

A small smile plucked at the corners of his mouth, tugging simultaneously on her heartstrings. “Worried ’bout me?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t have that.” His hand brushed her waist, as he guided her toward the door with inborn courtesy, and she felt the touch all the way to her toes.

 

November sped toward
Thanksgiving. It was a Wednesday like any other, Neva thought. Might even have been quieter than usual—until the end of the day. The last patient was a pregnant female cat, and she wasn’t on the books.

A woman brought her in, nearly in tears. “I don’t know what happened to her. She’s not mine. I found her . . . I think maybe she was hit.”

Or she could’ve been tossed from a moving car—Neva had seen it before. People could be unspeakably cruel.

“It’s all right. You can go. I’ll take it from here.”

“Don’t I have to pay you?”

She smiled. “Not for this.”

Though her heart clenched, she went to work. The mother cat was beyond saving; she could tell at a glance, but her kittens might not be. If she had been near term . . . yes, she had been. Three of them were dead. It hurt. It never stopped hurting. On days like today, she could almost see her mother’s point. Why
do
this?

Well, for the three of them she saved. That was why. Miraculously, they seemed to be as healthy as three orphaned kittens could be.

“Julie!” she shouted. “I need the heating pad, a box, a towel, and the kitten formula.”

She’d be sleeping here tonight, of course. That was why she kept a cot in the storeroom. Sometimes patients required overnight care and she couldn’t afford to pay a night attendant. The practice wasn’t hemorrhaging money but neither was she rolling in it. Corners had to be cut.

“Saving kitties, are we?”

“I’m sure going to try.”

“Do you need me to stay over?”

Smiling, she shook her head. Julie always asked and she always said no. Such rituals were comforting. “Just flip the ‘Closed’ sign. I can handle this.”

Neva used a warm, damp cloth to clean them up because it would feel to them like the comfort of their mother’s tongue. Once she’d done that, Neva set up the box with heating pad, covered that with the towel, and then started the feeding rotation. The next three weeks were going to be grueling since newborn kittens couldn’t eliminate without help. Ordinarily the mother cat would take care of it.

Now it was all up to her.

At some point, Zeke appeared beside her, and he seemed to know what to do, so she let him feed one of the kittens. It was late by the time they finished, and in two or three hours, it would be time to do it all again.

She arched her back, so tired she ached all over. It was a good feeling. Despite the four losses, she had three tiny wins snuggled up together in their box. The heating pad beneath them would keep them nice and warm; it was specially designed for newborns and post-op animals.

“This happen a lot?”

“Twice in two years. I don’t know if that qualifies as a lot.”

“Will they make it?”

She glanced up and found him closer than she’d realized. “I’ll do my damnedest to make sure they do.”

“Pleasure watching you with them.”

Maybe it was just because she was exhausted but the comment felt like it had a personal connotation. A happy flush suffused her. “I love animals, always have. My mother said I’d drive her wild, always dragging something home.”

“To fix it up,” he guessed.

“Yeah.” But she’d always had trouble letting go. Once she healed something, she never wanted to send it back into the wild. She wanted to keep it and love it, no matter how ill-advised that seemed.

To her surprise, Zeke sat down on a crate nearby, seeming in no hurry to leave. “My cousins hunted. Used to run around after them in the woods, making a racket so they’d get no game.”

“Did they hunt for sport or food?”

Though she loved animals, she wasn’t a vegetarian, and she understood the latter. Just . . . not the former. It seemed like the height of cruelty to kill something for the pleasure of it. Even worse to put its carcass on the wall as proof of the deed.

“Both.”

And he still hadn’t wanted to see the deer shot?
Interesting
. He was a puzzling man, one she had a hard time reading. She had the sense he was hiding something, but then, wasn’t everyone? With her family and Luke and Ben Reed, she didn’t exactly go around broadcasting her personal issues, either. As long as she could depend on him to do his job, things would be fine.

Now, the part she hated . . . dealing with the dead. A pet cremation service would pick up if she called, but it meant out-of-pocket expense on this one. Ordinarily she passed the cost along to the owner—and felt guilty doing so—but she couldn’t charge the woman for kindness. That discouraged people from doing the right thing.

“Could you—”

“Already did,” he said. “Bagged them. And cleaned the exam room.”

She gazed at him in stupefied weariness. “I’m not paying you enough. It’s well past six, and I can’t afford more hours.”

Her parents could.
She
couldn’t. She’d spent the money she’d gotten from Grandmother Devereaux on an education. The rest remained in trust, administered by her father, and he’d never give her a dime until she became the daughter he wanted instead of the one he had. It didn’t matter; she’d never be Luke, even if she broke her back trying. Better not to go down that road.