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DANI
Thorsmellslikehim.Every time I check on him I catch the faint scent of leather and pine. More than once, when I know Jenny is busy, I find myself burying my nose in his soft fur.
Today is busy enough that it keeps me distracted most of the time. Large velcro straps hold Thor to the table, so even if he shifts in his sleep he won’t fall off.
Time drags, knowing it’s at least six hours for the dosage to be completed, I resign myself to trying to focus on my other patients in the meantime.
My last two patients are a cat with worms, and a puppy with fleas. After conversations about maintenance care and preventative treatments, both families are herded out the door, medications in hand.
“You seem tense today. Everything okay?”Jenny asks sweetly.
“Not enough chocolate, apparently.” I force a smile back. Maybe it’s some other kind of dessert I’ve had on my mind.
“I have some!” She turns to her lunchbox, and offers me a tiny Snickers bar. “You’re not you when you’re hungry!” she giggles.
“Thank you, Jenny, that’s very nice of you.” Twisting the tiny wrapper in my fingers, my eyes unfocus on the clock above her head.
Soon. He will be here soon.
Kicking myself into gear, I balance my stack of patient charts and find my way into my office.
The next hour disappears into paperwork. I even manage to forget about Sam for a little while in my concentration.
A light tapping at my door breaks my focus.
“Yes, Jenny, come in.” I just need to finish these last few notes.
Garlic and ginger, the heady smell of food, shatters what thought processes I have. Glancing up, I’m overwhelmed with the presence of Sam, his head smiling through the open door, a white plastic bag hanging from his long fingers.
“I brought food.”
“Oh, hi. You didn’t need to do that! I have, well, food.” I gesture to the small candy bar still in its wrapper on my desk.
My senses are on overload. The heavy scent of something fried, with mixes of beef, chicken, vegetables, and his scent of earth, all combine to narrow my breath, lodging in my throat making the air too heavy to breathe.
He fills my office. I can’t look in any direction without him in my view.
“Needs and wants can be one and the same.” His eyes pierce me, darkened by the brim of his baseball hat, but his words are soft, caressing my ears. “Now, clear a spot.”
My body reacts before I can even think, pulling papers and charts away, stacking them on the cabinet behind me.
It’s like he speaks directly to my animal brain. He completely bypasses any cognitive thought. My only urge is to do anything he says.
What is wrong with me?
Opening the bag, he pulls out Chinese take out containers, arranging them on my desk in a small square. Plates, chopsticks, forks, even fortune cookies all appear.
“I got a variety. I’m sure there will be something here you like.” That teasing curl to his lips transfixes me. “I even got a vegetarian dish, just in case.”
“I like meat,” I laugh. Heat floods my cheeks when I realize how my words could be interpreted. “I mean, I’m not picky.” I can almost taste blood, I’m biting my cheek so hard.
“Good girl,” he exhales.
Holy shit.
My thighs clench at his words, tremors infiltrate my belly, seizing my lungs. I can’t breathe correctly through the flood of heat radiating within me.
“Ladies first.” He opens the containers one by one. I can’t resist. I need something to do, to keep my hands occupied. Soon, both of our plates are brimming with the steaming selection of flavors. The desk, thankfully, is separating our chairs.