Page 62 of Finding Gideon

I forgot how to think for a second.

The heat hit first, low and slow. Familiar now, but no less inconvenient. I glanced away, turned to the laptop open on the counter, willing my brain to reboot. I was a grown-ass man with patients to see, medications to log, and an assistant who kept reaching for things like his spine didn’t curve like a work of art.

He said something I missed, voice low and light. Probably asking about the pain meds for the terrier with the cracked molar. I nodded like I’d been paying attention. “Yeah, second drawer,” I managed, and cleared my throat when it came out too rough.

He moved past me, close enough that his scent—clean and citrusy, like the soap I’d bought on sale and he’d claimed—clung to my nostrils. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t afford to, with my dick half-hard and no hope of willing it down, and I didn’tplan to spend the rest of the day shifting uncomfortably behind counters and exam tables.

This was ridiculous. I was thirty-six, not thirteen. But Gideon had this way of making time fold in on itself. Every sideways glance felt like the first time anyone ever looked at me like I was worth something. Every brush of his hand lit a fuse in my spine.

The bells above the door broke the tension like a crack across ice. I exhaled hard and moved toward it, grateful for the interruption.

“Morning, Mrs. Cross,” I said as the older woman stepped in, tugging a wheezy pug along beside her.

Gideon slipped into place beside me. He smiled at the woman, crouched beside the dog with practiced ease.

“You again,” he said to the pug, rubbing behind its ears. “What’d you eat this time?”

Mrs. Cross rolled her eyes. “He got into the trash again. I swear, it’s like living with a goat.”

Gideon chuckled, warm and easy, and the dog’s tail thumped against the tile.

I hung back for a moment, watching them. It wasn’t just the way Gideon handled animals—gentle, patient, with a kind of reverence that didn’t fade even on long days. It was the way people relaxed around him, too. He made them feel seen. Safe.

Even me.

The next few hours blurred—dogs with skin issues, a cat with an abscess, a hissing iguana whose owner refused to admit it was obese. We barely had time to eat, let alone sneak off into a closet like some hormone-riddled teens. Probably for the best. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to pretend I didn’t want him otherwise.

Still, every time our hands brushed over a clipboard or passed a syringe, it lit a fire in my chest. We moved around each other like gravity had turned personal. But when clients were in the room, we didn’t miss a beat. I gave instructions, he followed.He asked questions, I answered. No slip-ups. No lingering stares. Just two professionals doing their jobs.

By mid-afternoon, the rush had thinned out. Gideon was restocking antibiotics. I stood by the front desk, scanning the schedule.

I glanced toward him. “I’m heading to the office for a bit.”

He nodded without looking up. “Cool.”

Cool. Right. Except nothing about what was inside my scrubs felt cool.

I slipped into the office, shut the door behind me, and leaned against it for a beat before crossing to the desk.

I tappedMomwith three heart emojis, and the line rang twice before she answered, her voice bright and familiar.

“Well, look who remembered he has parents.”

I smiled, dropping into the rolling chair behind the desk. Every week, I made this call—though Mom still acted like it was a rare event. Her sense of humor was boundless.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Are you eating enough?” she asked immediately. “You sound thin.”

I huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure sound doesn’t have a weight class.”

“Don’t sass me. I’m your mother.”

“I know,” I said, softer this time. “How are you and Dad?”

“Oh, we’re fine. I’ve got you on speaker—your father’s here too. He was messing with the gutters again, even though his back?—”

“I heard that,” Dad’s voice called in the background. “And it’s my spine, not my back. Get it right if you’re going to gossip.”