Page 2

Chapter Two

I n the exam room, Jetta rushed to Bingley, who lay covered in a blanket and motionless on the table. Seeing his chest rising and falling stemmed her tears.

“I’ll get Dr. Williams.” Nolan slipped out the exam room’s back door.

She turned, expecting to see Seth beside her, but he wasn’t there. While she stroked Bingley’s head, disappointment flooded her that Seth hadn’t accompanied her. Anyone else would have simply followed her into the room, but not Seth. He never overstepped whatever boundaries she put up—or didn’t realize she’d constructed, like right now. Seth, with his gentleness despite his huge size, continually surprised her.

She swiped a stray tear from her cheek as she waited for the vet, her thoughts still on her neighbor. Seth had never commented on her pregnant state or lack of a husband. His only acknowledgement of her increasing belly was his insistence on taking her trash and recycling bins to the curb and his standing offer of assistance with any heavy lifting. Her mother encouraged her to tap into his willingness to help, relating how good a neighbor he’d been for the past few years.

When Dr. Williams entered with Nolan behind him, she pushed thoughts of Seth aside and focused on her dog. The vet’s serious expression did little to soothe Jetta’s alarm.

“What’s wrong with Bingley?” Her voice choked on the name. The dog had wormed his way into her heart these past six months, and she couldn’t imagine life without him by her side.

“We suspect ibuprofen poisoning.”

“Ibuprofen? Like for people?” Jetta could hardly wrap her mind around the idea that what she sometimes took for headaches could cause such harm in a dog.

The vet nodded. “Given the symptoms you described, I was pretty sure he’d eaten something he wasn’t supposed to, so we induced vomiting.” He handed her a plastic zipper top bag containing three reddish pills she recognized as a popular over-the-counter brand of pain reliever.

“How did he get hold of these?” Jetta laid the bag on the counter beside Bingley. “There wasn’t any Advil in the house.” She reached for her purse, then remembered she’d left it on her kitchen counter. At least she had her driver’s license and credit card in her phone case. “I’ll check my purse when I get home, but I’m sure he didn’t dig around in my bag to scarf down pills in a plastic bottle.”

Dr. Williams frowned. “You’re sure there wasn’t a way for him to ingest ibuprofen?”

“None comes to mind.” She’d been very careful with the medications from the bathroom cabinets and a few hours ago had taken everything to a local pharmacy with a medicine disposal kiosk.

“He must have eaten a fair amount to display these symptoms.”

She rubbed the dog’s silky ear. “I didn’t even know ibuprofen was so dangerous for dogs.”

“The Pet Poison Helpline receives more than four thousand calls a year about dogs being exposed to the pain reliever. Even small doses can trigger adverse effects in dogs and cats.” Dr. Williams must have clocked Jetta’s increasing distress because she hurriedly went on. “But we caught it quick enough in Bingley, and he should make a full recovery.”

Jetta tightened her hand on the counter as relief turned her legs into cooked spaghetti. “Thank God.” And Seth for his strength in getting Bingley to the clinic.

“We would like to keep him overnight for observation and to replace some of the fluids he lost due to vomiting.”

“Okay, if you think it’s necessary.”

The vet leveled her with a stern look reminiscent of her mother when she caught Jetta disobeying instructions. “This will also give you time to check your house and yard to see where Bingley might have gotten the pills. His system might not recover if he eats any more so soon.”

“Oh, I will.” She would scour every inch of her mother’s house and property to ensure her dog didn’t come in contact with those drugs again.

The back door opened, and another tech tugged a stainless-steel trolley into the examining room. “We’re ready to move Bingley to the kennel.”

Dr. Williams nodded. “Someone will call you in the morning when he’s ready to be released, probably around ten, after the morning checks.”

“Okay.” She patted Bingley’s head again and stepped back as Nolan and the other tech prepared to transport Bingley.

Nolan added, “The front desk will have the paperwork for his overnight stay.”

Jetta took that as a hint to move out of their way and exited the room. She paused by the reception desk to wait for the person in front of her to finish and drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves. She’d nearly lost Bingley, who had somehow managed to get hold of ibuprofen pills. The baby kicked her ribs, the movement a reminder of why she was sure she didn’t have any of that over-the-counter medicine, since it wasn’t advisable for pregnant women to take ibuprofen. So how had Bingley gotten access to those pills?

“Is Bingley okay?”

She stifled a gasp as she spun to see Seth. For a big man, he moved with the stealth of a cat. “You startled me.”

He ducked his head. “Sorry about that.”

His chastised posture chided Jetta to consider her tone probably had been harsher than she’d meant. “No, I’m sorry.” She laid a hand on his arm briefly, then recounted the vet’s diagnosis. “Bingley’s going to be fine, but they’re keeping him overnight to pump more fluids into him.”

“I’m glad he’ll recover.” He shifted on his feet, reminding her she was keeping him from whatever plans he had for a Tuesday evening.

“Let me check in with the front desk and we can go.”

He returned to his chair, the faint whiff of bergamot orange teasing her nostrils. It was a scent she’d begun to exclusively associate with Seth. At the counter, the perky receptionist presented her with an iPad to sign her permission for Bingley’s overnight stay.

“That will be $1,437 for the exam, treatment, and overnight stay. How would you like to pay?”

Jetta swallowed her protest at the high bill, which would put a dint in her bank account. Staying at Mom’s house saved on rent, but not working meant her balance wasn’t increasing. Eventually, she would need to land a job, but with the baby’s due date in six weeks, she’d decided to wait until she’d figured out whether she would keep the infant or give it up for adoption. She handed over her credit card and waited while the receptionist ran the card. After signing the receipt, she folded a copy of the bill and turned to find Seth.

“I’m ready,” she told him. Worry for Bingley and her mother’s recovery nibbled at her nerves, making her itchy with unease.

“Have you eaten dinner?”

Seth’s question triggered an answering growl from her stomach. “No.” She mentally reviewed the contents of her fridge and bit back a groan. She recalled finishing the eggs last night and meaning to make a trip to the supermarket today, which hadn’t happened. A nap had derailed her afternoon. “Maybe we could grab dinner on the way home?”

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished they hadn’t. Seth was a nice guy, one she suspected had a crush on her, if his frequent blushes around her were any indication. She had vowed yesterday to be kind but distant in order not to lead him on. She most certainly was not in a good place to fall in love, not when the last man she’d been involved with had led to her current state. She shot him a glance to gauge his reaction to her question.

“Since you must be tired, we could hit the drive-thru at McDonald’s, Taco Bell, or Chick-fil-A on our way home.”

Relief poured through her like hot fudge on soft serve ice cream at his suggestion. “I never turn down the chance for a cookies-and-cream milkshake and chicken nuggets from Chick-fil-A.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I’m partial to their chicken strips with sriracha sauce myself.”

As he moved to open the door, Jetta caught the receptionist, a young woman around her age, eyeing Seth while she spoke on the phone. She couldn’t blame the other woman, as he was a fine specimen for someone in the market for a man, which Jetta most certainly wasn’t. With full lips, chiseled cheekbones, and a strong jawline, he was, in a word, gorgeous. Long dark eyelashes framed chocolate-brown eyes. The word brawny came to mind when describing his build. Not over-the-top sculpted like a serious body builder, but definitely a lot more muscles than the average man. If she had to guess, the man had not an ounce of fat on him anywhere. A man who would make any woman feel safe and protected. Not like her ex, Kyle Franklin.

The efficiency of Chick-fil-A’s drive-thru had them on their way, and before long, he was pulling into his driveway. She grabbed the food bags and waited for him to open her door. She had been surprised when he’d asked her to wait for him the first time they’d ridden together, but she soon learned being courteous came second-nature to Seth.

As he climbed out and shut his door, she tried to remember if Kyle had ever once opened a door for her during the eight months they’d dated. Nope, Kyle jiggled his keys if she took too long to get out of the car and always walked ahead of her through the business doors, never bothering to step aside and hold the door for her.

Seth pulled her door open, then closed it after she’d exited. “Thank you.”

He gave her a sweet smile, but it fell off his face as he stared past her toward something in her side yard. “Wait here, please.”

While Jetta couldn’t see what had captured his attention, the concern in his voice kept her glued to the side of the car. Her heart pounded as she considered what might lay outside her sightline—and if it would be connected to what she’d left behind in Chicago.

* * *

Seth crouched next to the dark furry object lying in the grass near the half-closed back gate of the Ainsley residence. He grabbed a nearby stick and poked the still raccoon. No movement. Dead. Using the toe of his sneaker, he nudged the animal over onto its back. Vomit coated the animal’s mouth and nearby ground. The odor assaulted him, but he ignored it. He’d smelled worse and had grown immune to the scent of regurgitation.

With his phone’s flashlight to illuminate the mess on the grass in the darkening shadows, he spotted the remanent of a reddish-brown pill in the masticated stomach contents. The animal must have gotten into the same stash as Bingley.

Rising, he hustled to his SUV to usher Jetta into her house with their dinner. “There’s a dead raccoon, so why don’t you go inside your house with our dinner, and I’ll take care of it.”

She frowned. “Did the neighborhood fox get it?”

“I don’t think so. It appears the animal found whatever Bingley ingested. Let’s go around the back of the SUV so you don’t ruin your appetite with the view.”

She grabbed the food bag and he got the drink caddy from the SUV before he led her to the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I don’t want any other animals getting into the mess.”

“You don’t mind? It must be really gross.”

“I can handle it.” Good thing he had an iron stomach—hardly anything bothered him. Not too surprising, given his childhood. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

He hustled to his house for several black yard trash bags, a snow shovel he unearthed from a back closet, and a ratty old towel. After taking photos of the animal and the surroundings, he used the shovel to move the raccoon onto the towel, then folded it over the still form before sliding it into one of the trash bags. He tied it off, then inserted the bag inside a second trash bag, repeating it until the raccoon’s remains were concealed under three layers of heavy plastic.

Seth placed the bag inside his outdoor trash can, then returned to the scene with a small plastic to-go container. With his hands inside plastic sandwich bags, he scooped up as much of the vomit as he could into the container, sealing it with the lid. He put the container on the ground next to the trash can before heading inside to thoroughly wash his hands.

The sickness of Bingley and the death of the raccoon bothered him. He wanted to check to see if the raccoon had indeed ingested ibuprofen like the dog had. Tomorrow, he would take the container to the vet to see if they could run determine whether it was similar to what Bingley ate. In the morning, he would search Jetta’s backyard—after securing her permission—to make sure nothing remained of what he suspected had been contaminated meat, given the couple of chunks near the raccoon’s carcass. The look on Jetta’s face when she’d come for his help with Bingley tugged at his heartstrings. He never wanted her to have such a look of anguish again.

His phone buzzed, and he paused on the sidewalk to read the text from his colleague and friend, Brogan Gilmore, before knocking on Jetta’s door.

Hey, Melender canceled on me, so want to grab a bite at Ireland’s Four Provinces?

Seth usually enjoyed listening to the Irish musicians who often entertained the crowds at the popular bar and restaurant.

Not tonight.

You said you didn’t have plans…

Well, plans change.

He hoped Brogan would leave it at that, but wasn’t surprised when another text flashed on the screen.

What’s her name?

Seth balanced the phone in his hand, debating how to answer. He decided the truth would be best—just not the whole truth.

I’m helping my next-door neighbor.

Brogan would think Seth meant Mrs. Ainsley, since he often helped the widow.

And here I thought you’d finally met a girl. Guess it will be me enjoying the band solo tonight.

Seth let his colleague have the last word and pocketed his phone. As he crossed the lawn to the Ainsley’s, he tamped down his hopes that Jetta had meant she wanted to enjoy a meal in his company. Jetta put out a strong I-just-wanna-be-friends vibe and he respected that. If only his foolish heart would stop leaping to unwanted conclusions every time she smiled at him or touched his arm, then he would be fine. He could do the friend thing with her, especially because he sensed a world of hurt behind her sunny facade. His hands curled into fists and he purposefully shook them out. As much as he wanted to punch the guy who’d made her so skittish—and who’d left her pregnant and alone—violence only created more problems than it solved. He ought to know. One act of violence had changed his life.