Montana Vet. Ann Roth
take him in.
“Hey, there,” he greeted them.
Each one took note of his low, soothing voice, and a few wagged their tails.
It was obvious that Seth Pettit had a way with animals. Probably with women, too, Emily guessed, with another flutter of interest.
But she wasn’t about to see him as anything but a potential volunteer veterinarian at the shelter. Her life was very full and a lot simpler without a man in it, and she liked it that way.
After a moment, they headed outside again. “I’m impressed with what you’re doing here, Emily.” He held the door open for her. “Now I understand why Taylor wants to work here.”
“About that,” Emily started, ready to work a deal. It was chilly now, and wishing she’d put on a sweater, she chafed her arms. “Our dogs need friendly, warm volunteers. And Taylor—”
“Hear me out.” Seth held his hand palm up, silencing her. “She’s not a bad kid. She just needs a little time to get used to all the changes in her life. I’m no therapist, but I know in my gut that doing her community service here would be really good for her. What can I do to convince you to let that happen?”
His eyes pleaded for understanding. He didn’t know that he’d provided the perfect segue to the subject Emily wanted to broach. “Funny you should ask,” she said. “The vet who has volunteered here since I opened the shelter just retired unexpectedly. I need a replacement.”
Seth eyed her. “You’re asking me to volunteer at The Wagging Tail.”
Crossing her fingers at her sides, she nodded. Only a few yards from the front office now, they stopped to finish the conversation before stepping inside.
“I have an awful lot on my plate right now,” he said.
“You’re building a practice and settling in. I understand. I’m not asking you for forty hours a week, or even twenty. I just need someone to perform routine health checkups on any new animals we take in, get them vaccinated, and whatever else they need. And of course, to give them the medical attention they might need if they get injured or sick while they’re here.”
“How much time are we talking?”
“You saw for yourself that I only have room for six animals. There are also two quarantine huts where new arrivals stay until they’re cleared to join the others. Probably one to two hours per week, barring unexpected emergencies.”
“So one day a week for two hours?” Seth asked.
“Or more, depending on when we take in a new animal and if someone gets sick. I’ll try not to bother you at night or on weekends.”
“You’ll give Taylor a job if I agree to this?”
Emily nodded.
“Throw in a free website consultation and design and I’ll do it. For one semester, while Taylor’s here. But understand that if you need me at the same time as someone in my practice, they come first.”
A semester was better than nothing. Who knew, maybe she’d convince him to stay on permanently. At the very least, she had a few months to search for someone else.
Relieved, she smiled. “Fair enough. Thank you, Dr. Pettit.”
“I go by Seth.”
“Okay, Seth. Please call me Emily. Community service begins on Monday.”
“Great. Do me a favor, and don’t tell Taylor about our arrangement. Let her think she got the job because you want her for herself.”
“I can do that,” Emily said. “I’ll call her tomorrow and let her know.”
He nodded. “We have a deal.”
They shook on that. Seth’s big hand almost engulfed hers. His grip was firm and strong and warm, and for some reason, Emily wanted to hold on for a while.
Way too attracted to this man, she quickly let go, pivoted away and hurried toward the front door.
* * *
“I DON’T SEE why you need to volunteer at The Wagging Tail while I volunteer there,” Taylor said as Seth drove home. “That is, if Emily chooses me.”
Taylor didn’t want him involved in anything she did. In her life at all, for that matter. He stifled a weary sigh. “The vet who was helping Emily retired, and she asked me to help out. I’m only going to do it until January, and my own business comes first. Trust me, I won’t get in your way.”
Taylor snickered. “You’re always in my way.”
Seth missed the days when she’d been little and carefree, and had simply taken him at his word. But those times were long gone, and a lot of baggage had filled the gap in between. “I’ll only come to The Wagging Tail when Emily calls, and if she hires you, to pick you up—that’s it,” he said, striving to sound patient. At Taylor’s stony look he added, “If she doesn’t have a vet to handle her dogs’ medical issues, she’ll be forced to shut down.”
Taylor’s eyes widened. “I guess it’s okay, then.”
One hurdle successfully crossed. Relieved, Seth rolled the truck up the cracked blacktop driveway of their house. He pulled into the carport. Before he even killed the engine, Taylor slipped out the passenger door. Without a thanks-for-the-ride or a backward glance, she pulled a house key from her jeans pocket and headed for the house.
Seth followed. As a kid, he’d always been ravenous when he got home from school. He was pretty sure she must be, too. But she went straight through the kitchen and toward the stairs.
Wafer thin, she was way too skinny. He couldn’t let her disappear into her room without something to eat. “Hold on,” he called out. “Want a snack?”
“No, thanks,” she said over her shoulder.
“It’s okay to eat in your room or anyplace in the house. It’s yours, too. You don’t have to hide upstairs.”
“I’m not hiding and I’m not hungry.”
She spent way too many hours texting and fooling around on FaceTime with her friends in San Diego. Time she should be spending making new friends and getting involved at Trenton High.
But as she continually reminded him, her home was in San Diego and there was nothing for her here. And he reminded her that she lived in Prosperity now. She didn’t like that at all.
At least she had her community service work lined up—a first step toward settling in. Seth hoped.
She was almost up the stairs now. “Do your homework before you talk with your friends,” he called out.
Muttering, she took the last few steps quickly. Seconds later her bedroom door closed. Loudly.
Seth muttered, too. For his own benefit, he’d talked with a couple specialists about the situation. He wanted Taylor to meet with the school counselor or see a social worker or therapist, but she refused. He knew that he couldn’t force her to get help.
He was in his “office,” for now a corner of the living room, tackling paperwork and thinking about ways to drum up business, when his cell phone rang.
“This is Zeke Jones,” a gravelly voice said. “I got your name from Barton Michaels.” Michaels owned a ranch where Seth had treated a sick heifer the previous week, and had gotten Seth’s name from an ad he’d placed in the Prosperity Daily News. “Got a cow with a bad case of pinkeye,” Zeke went on. “It’s in both eyes, and I’m worried about it spreading through the herd. She’s starting to lose weight, too.”
This was not good for Zeke, but Seth was pleased for the referral from Michaels. “Where are you?” he asked. He jotted down the address. Although it was nearly dinnertime, he said, “I’ll be over shortly.”
After disconnecting,