Page 5

Shuffling papers, I try to slip into a professional mode.
“Please, have a seat.” I gesture to the hard plastic chair on the other side of the desk. “So, Mr. Downing—”
“Please, call me Sam.” A tiny tightening around his eyes teases the humor in his words. He sets his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. The scent of leather and pine drifts over me.
“—Um, yes, of course. Sam.” Such a short word fills my mouth. I have to chew on my cheek to cleanse his name.
“So, a couple of weeks ago, our clinic was asked to take part in a trial for a new therapy for hip dysplasia. One of their requirements was a dog who was still in the early stages. Since I know Thor here fits that criteria, I wanted to see if you’d be interested?” Fidgeting with the corner of the paper, I try not to meet his eyes directly. I fear I’ll be drawn in again.
“What exactly would it do?” His words pour from the depths of his chest.
“Oh, um, so it’s a gene therapy. Looking at the data, they’ve implemented a new DNA protocol that should improve his healing rate, and reduce the wear on his hips. The laboratory trials look quite promising!” My eyes land on his full lips which are pursing while I ramble.
“Will it hurt him?” His hand moves to the head of the giant dog, softly scratching behind his ears.
“I don’t think so? It says here—” I shuffle to the right page, “—that common side effects are lethargy, vomiting and diarrhea. So, you’d likely want to keep an eye on him for a day or so after each dose.”
I wasn’t really expecting that question. It’s kind of endearing he’s worried about that.
His brows knit together. “How many doses?”
His eyes focus on my mouth. I realize I’m biting my lip.
“Well, it’s only four doses. But, each administration takes about six hours, so it may be easier to give him a small sedation to keep him calm while he gets the infusion.”
Does his bottom lip stick out just a bit when he smiles? I wonder what it would taste like.
Oh, man.
Heat rises into my cheeks. I fight the urge to squirm in my seat.
“The doses are a week apart, so it’s really only a month, but it might extend his quality of life pretty dramatically. If it works.” I splay my hands on my thighs, my palms are sweaty enough they might warp the papers if I keep messing with them.
He sits back, leaving the leash draped across his lean thigh. His fingers knot behind his head, giving me a tiny flash of skin above his pant line.
“Well, the thing is, Doc, I just finished roundup yesterday. I have to preg check six hundred heifers that will be turned out to my northern pastures next week.” He leans forward, the heat of his gaze intensifies when he draws closer.
I’m sucked into his eyes. I knew I should have avoided them.
“So, what would be the chances I could get a hand with that while Thor gets his meds?”
The dog turns back to him when he hears his name, giving a soft whine.
“I’ll be happy to compensate you for the help,” he adds. His smile grows, playing along his cheek with a twitch, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Of course, I’d be happy to help.”
Wait, what did I just say? I can’t! I have patients lined up.
Who am I kidding. I’d jump at his pants. I mean, I’d jump at the chance to spend all day with him.
He’s standing over me, his large calloused hand out, brow raised expectantly.
When my fingers touch his warm palm, it feels like electricity runs past my elbow into my chest.
“Thank you, Mr. Downing, er, Sam. Please make sure Jenny gets a weight on Thor before you go.”
He holds my hand a moment longer than necessary, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be the first to pull away. His grip is so firm, but gentle.