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M att Reynolds parked his truck outside the Sapphire Bay Animal Shelter and grabbed his medical bag from the passenger seat. The old building needed a fresh coat of paint and probably a new roof, but the blue and white “Animals Need Homes” sign hanging over the entrance was as cheerful as ever.

He checked his watch. It was eight o’clock, a full hour before the shelter officially opened.

Carol, the shelter manager, had texted him about a border collie they’d found near the highway yesterday.

The dog was spooked and wouldn’t let anyone touch him, so Matt had offered to come in early and check him out.

As he unlocked the door with the key Carol had given him years ago, the familiar chorus of barks and meows greeted him.

The shelter was small, with just ten dog kennels and separate rooms for the cats and kittens.

But it was clean and the animals were well cared for, despite the constant struggle for funding.

“Morning, everyone,” Matt called out as he opened the door to the kennels. The barking intensified, and he smiled. After all the years he’d been coming here, he still enjoyed the noisy welcome at the animal shelter. “I know, I know. Breakfast is coming soon.”

He made his way to the isolation room where new arrivals were kept until they could be examined. Through the glass window in the door, he saw the border collie huddled in the far corner of the kennel, his black and white coat matted with dirt.

“Hey there, buddy,” Matt said softly as he entered the room. The dog’s head snapped up, his eyes wary. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

He set his bag down and sat on the floor, pretending to ignore the dog. This wasn’t his first rodeo with scared strays. Years of practice had taught him that patience often worked better than anything else.

After a few minutes of Matt quietly humming while organizing his supplies, the border collie’s curiosity got the better of him. The dog inched forward, nose twitching.

“That’s it,” Matt murmured. “I’m just a boring old vet. Nothing to be afraid of.”

He slowly removed a dog treat from his pocket and placed it on the floor between them. The border collie eyed it suspiciously but took another step forward.

The sound of the shelter’s front door opening made the dog retreat to his corner. Matt sighed. So much for progress.

“Hello?” a familiar voice called out. “Matt? Are you here?”

Something in Matt’s chest lightened at the sound of Lynda’s voice.

“In the isolation room,” he called back.

Footsteps approached, and then Lynda appeared in the doorway, her silver hair pulled into a neat bun. She wore jeans and a blue sweater that matched her eyes, and she was carrying two take-out coffee cups.

“I was on my way to work and saw your truck outside,” she explained, holding up the coffee. “I thought you might need this if you’re starting this early.”

Matt smiled, genuinely touched by the gesture. “You’re a lifesaver. Carol texted about this guy last night, and I wanted to check him out before the shelter got busy.”

Lynda glanced at the border collie, who was watching them with alert eyes. “Poor thing looks scared to death. Have you been able to examine him yet?”

“Not even close. He won’t let me near him.” As Matt took the coffee Lynda handed to him, their fingers brushed against each other. “Thanks for this. I’ve been up since five, dealing with Mrs. Peterson’s horse. He has colic again.”

“Is Butterscotch okay?” Lynda asked, kneeling down to get a better look at the dog while staying at a respectful distance.

“He’ll be fine. Mrs. Peterson panics every time he so much as sneezes.”

Lynda’s smile started in her eyes and lit her entire face. “Mind if I try?” she asked, nodding toward the border collie.

“Be my guest,” Matt said, taking a sip of his coffee. “But he’s pretty spooked.”

Lynda sat cross-legged on the floor, repeating his trick of completely ignoring the dog. She began talking in a low, soothing voice—not to the dog, but to Matt.

“Isabel has some new animal books that she wants me to arrange at the bookstore. I told her most of them would collect dust, but she insists that every bookstore needs books about Amazonian Rainforest monkeys.” She continued chatting casually, her voice calm and even.

Matt watched the border collie gradually relax, his ears perking up at Lynda’s voice. After a few minutes, the dog inched forward again, his nose twitching with curiosity.

“You’ve got a gift,” Matt said softly, not wanting to break the spell.

Lynda shrugged. “It comes from years of working with abused animals at my practice in Denver.” She continued her casual conversation, and slowly, the dog moved closer.

Fifteen minutes later, through Lynda’s patience and a handful of treats from Matt, the border collie was letting them both touch him. Matt was able to check his teeth and paws, and listen to his heart.

“No microchip that I can feel,” Matt said, carefully running his hands along the dog’s neck and shoulders. “Looks like he’s about two years old. No obvious injuries, but he’s undernourished.”

“He’s beautiful,” Lynda said, gently working a burr out of the dog’s fur. “Smart, too. Look at those eyes. He’s calculating his next three moves.”

The dog had ended up sitting calmly between them, occasionally nudging Lynda’s hands for more petting.

They worked together to give the dog a basic exam, clean his ears, and apply flea treatment. The easy way they moved around each other, anticipating what the other needed, reminded Matt of the times his wife had helped him in the clinic.

The thought stopped him cold.

“I should get going,” Lynda said, standing up and brushing dog hair from her jeans. “I promised Isabel I’d be at the bookstore by nine.”

“Thanks for the help,” Matt said, suddenly feeling awkward. “And the coffee.”

“Anytime,” Lynda replied with a smile. “What are you going to call him?”

Matt looked at the border collie. “I think that’s Carol’s department, but with the white stripe between his eyes, he looks like a Bandit to me.”

“Bandit,” Lynda repeated, nodding. “It suits him. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

“That sounds great.”

After she left, Matt finished examining the dog and then moved him to a clean kennel with fresh water and food. By the time Carol arrived, he’d updated the intake forms and was ready to head to his regular clinic.

“You’ve worked miracles again,” Carol said, looking at the now-calm border collie. “When they brought him in yesterday, he snapped at anyone who came near.”

“I can’t take much credit this time,” Matt admitted. “Lynda was here earlier and worked her magic.”

Carol raised an eyebrow. “Lynda has that effect on most creatures. Including certain veterinarians I could mention.”

Matt cleared his throat. “It’s too early in the morning for matchmaking.” Carol had been trying to set him up with various women since he’d started volunteering at the animal shelter. “We’re colleagues. She’s just helping out at the shelter while she’s visiting.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Carol didn’t look as though she believed him. “That ‘visit’ has stretched to three months.”

Matt shrugged, packing up his supplies. “It’s not my business how long she stays.”

Though if he was being honest, he’d noticed Lynda’s continued presence in Sapphire Bay with more interest than he wanted to admit.

When she’d first started volunteering at the shelter, he’d assumed she’d be gone in a week or two.

But weeks had turned into months, and he’d found himself looking forward to the days when they were working together.

“Whatever you say,” Carol said, mercifully dropping the subject. “Thanks for coming in early. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Happy to help,” Matt replied. “I’ll see you this afternoon for the vaccination clinic.”

He drove the short distance to his small veterinary practice on Main Street, smiling at the memory of Lynda sitting on the floor, patiently winning over the scared border collie. Then he frowned, shaking his head as if to clear it.

There was something about her that intrigued him. It could have been the quiet confidence in the way she handled animals, the no-nonsense approach that never came across as harsh, or the intelligence in her blue eyes when she discussed treatment options.

He hadn’t thought about dating anyone since Maria died fifteen years ago.

After the cancer took her, he’d thrown himself into raising their daughter, Stephanie, and building a successful vet practice.

Between work and being a single dad, there hadn’t been time for romance, and honestly, he hadn’t missed it.

No woman could compare to Maria anyway—that’s what he’d told himself for years.

But Stephanie was grown now, with children of her own in Missoula. His practice ran smoothly with a small but dedicated staff. But sometimes, in the evenings when he returned to his empty house by the lake, he felt the silence pressing in on him.

“Get it together, Reynolds,” he muttered to himself as he pulled into his parking spot behind the clinic. “She’s a Denver vet temporarily helping out. That’s it.”

Brenda, his receptionist, was unlocking the front door as he approached.

“Morning, Doc,” she greeted him cheerfully. “How’s our highway stray doing?”

“Better,” Matt replied, following her inside. “I think we’ll call him Bandit. He’s settled down now.”

“Good. Oh, and Mrs. Landry called. Her cat threw up twice this morning, and she’s convinced it’s something serious.”

Matt smiled, hanging up his jacket. “Schedule her for an appointment. It’s probably just another hairball, but you know Mrs. Landry.”

As he headed to his office, he tried to push thoughts of Lynda out of his mind. Even as he prepared for his first appointment, he realized he was looking forward to going back to the shelter. Somehow, Lynda made even the most routine tasks enjoyable.

He caught where his thoughts were going and sighed. This was ridiculous. He was sixty-eight years old, for heaven’s sake, not some lovesick teenager.

“Dr. Reynolds? Your first patient is here,” Brenda called through the door.

“Coming,” he replied, grateful for the interruption.

Whatever this strange attraction was, he needed to get over it. Fast. The last thing he needed was to develop feelings for a woman who was just passing through Sapphire Bay—and his life.