Page 3 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

THREE

ATLAS

This is the kind of call I expect on a full moon, not a normal, unremarkable Wednesday. I press my phone to my ear, trying to decipher what we’re dealing with through the chaos on the other end of the line.

I’ve been back in Timberline Peak for less than a week and I’ve met a vulgar parrot whose owner is apparently my best client, gotten bit in the ass by my donkey, and now I’m being summoned to the hospital to meet a helicopter that’s landing with an animal on board.

And my friends in Houston joked that I’d get bored with a small town life.

If they could see me now.

The woman on the other end of the line is rattling off information at a clipped pace, the background noise and crackling connection making it difficult to decipher her message.

From what I gathered, she has a large breed search and rescue dog onboard suffering from heatstroke, and she’s extremely frustrated to find out I’m not who she expected.

“Dr. McMullins left already?” she asks, exasperated.

“End of last week, but I assure you, I’m fully capable . . .”

My reassurance is cut off.

“We don’t know each other yet, but I’m trusting you with my dog, and there’s not much in this world I love more.

Meet them at Alpine Medical Center. Please?

” Her voice trembles on the last word, her attitude at finding out that Dr. McMullins retired is gone.

Dealing with fearful pleas isn’t uncommon in veterinary medicine, but it never gets easier to hear someone’s heart breaking.

The pained desperation makes my heart beat wildly against my ribs.

It takes all my focus to push it away and mask the anxiety that builds as I gather the information I need to help her.

“The hospital?”

“Yes, Alpine Medical Center—the helipad,” she blurts. “They should be about five minutes out.”

“Got it, I’ll head there now,” I tell the woman on the other end of the call.

I make out a relieved “thank you” before the line disconnects.

With only a rough idea of what I’m facing, I grab the supplies I’m most likely to need and holler for Grace, a slight edge slipping into my tone.

“We’ve got a dog with heat stroke on a helicopter. We are meeting them at the hospital and I’ll need you to drive while I attend to the patient.”

She blinks at me from the desk in disbelief. She’s worked here for thirty years, but I doubt she’s ever retrieved an animal from a helicopter with Dr. McMullins. Hell, it’s not something I ever imagined I’d have to do either.

I hold the door open for her, and it spurs her into action. Grabbing her purse, she meets me at the door. I lock it up and lead her out to my truck.

Grace and I get to the hospital just as the chopper is landing. I crank the air to max. “Sorry, it’s going to be chilly. We need to get the air circulating in here until we can get the patient back to the clinic.”

I don’t know what kind of condition this dog is going to be in, and the drive back could cost us precious minutes if it’s dire, so I’m using every advantage I have.

“Why don’t you hop in the driver’s seat so we can move as soon as I have our patient?

” I jump out of the truck and leave it open for her as I take off in a sprint toward the helipad.

There’s a team of doctors and nurses working to get someone off the chopper and into the hospital.

I’m scanning the area for someone who can give me direction when a petite brunette bursts through the doors and jumps back into the helicopter.

She pulls a blanket to the edge of the chopper. Spotting brown fur, I rush toward them.

“Are you the new vet in town?” She peers over her shoulder, barely sparing me a glance.

“Yeah, I’m Atlas. Is this my patient?”

She nods, her eyes linger for a second before she shakes her head, like maybe she recognizes me, but this woman is at least a few years younger than me and I can’t place her.

“This is Echo. He got overheated on a search and rescue mission and he means the world to his handler. I need you to make sure he’s okay until she can get to him.

” She grabs my wrist before I can heft Echo out of the helicopter and into my arms. Her brown eyes go soft with affection. “Please, don’t let my friend down.”

“Listen, I’m really good at my job, but I can’t do it until I get him out of here.”

She drops her hand.

The Bernese mountain dog is alert and could probably walk the short distance, but I don’t want to risk it. Lifting him into my arms I start toward the truck where Grace is waiting in the driver’s seat with the back door open and the seat folded up so I can lay Echo down.

Setting him on the floor, I round the truck, getting in on the other side and going straight to work, repositioning the wet shirt and rags over him.

“Someone really helped our boy out,” I comment offhandedly.

“Harlowe Corbin,” Grace says, putting the truck in drive and heading out of the hospital parking lot.

“What?”

“His handler . . . he belongs to Harlowe Corbin. She moved here four years ago and joined the search and rescue team. Echo’s about two and a half now; she got him right before the avalanche. They’re inseparable, but I suppose it makes sense after everything she and James have been through.”

Very little about what she’s telling me means anything to me. Small town gossip has never done me any favors. Not when I was growing up here, and certainly not now that I’m back. “Anything else remarkable about his history?”

“Not that I recall. Everything has been very routine with him.”

Grace drives while I check Echo’s vitals and confirm he’s suffering from heatstroke—well-managed heatstroke—which makes my job much easier and his outlook much better. Quick thinking and luck that they could bring him by chopper kept Echo from ending up in more trouble.

He’s safe now, and I’m going to make sure it stays that way.

Once we’re back, he’ll need IV fluids and careful cooling.

I don’t know when we’ll see his handler, but Echo’s staying with us overnight either way.

Dogs like him—dogs who do the kind of work he does—are vital to a community like Timberline Peak.

He’s special, and I’m going to keep a close eye on him—take every precaution.

By the time this is over, the two of us are going to know each other pretty well.

Grace backs up to the building, putting the truck in park and jumping out to hold the door open for me. Taking Echo straight back to the treatment area, I set him on the table. Grace is a step behind me, getting the IV started.

“Any fun surprises I can expect, like with Mrs. Franklin?”

Grace snickers beside me. I look up from bandaging the insertion site to glare at her.

“Sorry, Dr. Kane. But you have to admit it was funny.”

“It’s just Atlas, or Dr. Atlas, if you must.” A frown pulls at her lips. “But I don’t think Mrs. Franklin would agree with you.”

“Pretty sure Harlowe hasn’t taught Echo to talk. So you don’t have to worry about that, Dr. Atlas. ” She stresses those last two words more than necessary.

“Hilarious. Let’s just focus on getting our guy taken care of before she gets here, and then maybe I won’t have to defend why I’m wearing tennis shoes instead of loafers like Dr. McMullins.

” I pat Echo, moving to his head to check on him before starting the bloodwork.

“Your mom’s going to be reasonable, isn’t she, big guy? ”

Harlowe Corbin is reasonable, or as reasonable as a spooked mustang kicking up dust when she runs through my door.

She’s as elegant as a wild horse, too. Her long blonde braid is whipping around her shoulders as she looks for her dog.

Even in her panic, there’s a steady strength pouring off her.

Fire and fear dance in her light blue eyes, like she’s ready to fight if needed—untamed in her protectiveness over Echo.

The strap of her white sports bra sticks out of the oversized flannel hanging off her shoulder. A pair of black hiking pants hug her hips.

She charges up to the desk, where I’m currently sitting, her long fingers curling around the edge.

“Where’s Echo? Is he okay?” Her eyes dart around the waiting area.

I sent Grace home hours ago, opting to wait for Harlowe myself, figuring she’d want to see Echo even though it’s technically after hours.

The office is twenty yards from home, so it’s not like I wouldn’t have been around.

“You must be Harlowe. I’m Atlas. Your boy has been a model patient. He’s resting right now, but you can see him,” I tell her calmly.

The relief rolls off her in waves, but her eyes still harbor distrust as she confirms, “He’s good?”

“He’s good. I’d like to monitor him overnight, but it’s more for my peace of mind than anything else.”

Just like that, the stubborn set of shoulders is back. “I’m staying.”

Um. What? I’m about to tell her “no” when she holds up a hand. “Echo got me through the worst day of my life, and I won’t leave him on his worst day.”

Well, fuck. If I have a soft spot, she sniffed it out because I relent, nodding in agreement.

I’d planned to stick around to monitor Echo tonight, and after a week alone in my house, having company doesn’t sound terrible.

All that was waiting for me before she showed up was admin work and a hard cot anyway.

I hold my hand out, ushering her to the back where Echo’s resting in a crate getting fluids.

She goes straight to him, squatting, her fingers slotting through the bars and rubbing his paw.

“His case of heatstroke was mild.” I push a hand through my hair, leaning against the wall of empty crates beside her. Echo is our only overnight guest. “Keeping him is probably overkill, but I know how important it is for a dog like Echo to keep working.”

“Did he have a seizure, or vomit?”

“Nope, when I got him off the chopper, his temperature was trending down from one hundred and five, and he perked right up after some fluids and more time to cool off.”