a mix of confusion, curiosity and friendliness, he blinked rapidly. “Hello. I don’t know you.”
The air stirred and her skin prickled with awareness, a sure sign the singing vet had moved into her radar range. Annoyed to be so vulnerable, she took a step to one side.
“Toby,” Trace said. “Come in and meet our new helper, Cheyenne.”
Expression sweet and friendly, the teen stuck out his hand. “Hi.”
Cheyenne took the spongy fingers in hers and shook. “Hello, Toby. I’m glad to know you.”
“Toby is my right-hand man,” Trace went on. “He keeps the kennels and cages in tip-top shape, feeds and waters and exercises. Couldn’t run the place without him.”
Toby responded with a huge grin. “Dr. Bowman likes me. I’m a good worker.”
“I didn’t see you on my first day. Were you here?”
“Wednesdays I’m not here. I got appointments. Doc cleans up for me. But the rest of the time, Toby does it.” He patted his chest with the flat of one hand.
Though wearing a man’s body, Toby was childlike and likeable and touched a soft spot in her heart. “I noticed how clean the kennels are.”
“Yeah. Doc showed me how to make them really, really clean. Only put one little bitty cup of bleach in the bucket. Right, Doc?”
“Right, and no one does a better job than you.”
“Not even you?”
“Not even me.” Trace clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Did you need something, or just come inside to say hello?”
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