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, he headed upstairs to tell Taylor. Maybe she’d come with him. Through the door he heard loud music from The Wanted, a band she listened to constantly. He knocked a couple times before she heard him.
“What do you want?” she asked through the closed door.
“Open up.”
Seconds later, the door opened a fraction, just enough for her to poke her head through.
“I have to go out and help a rancher with a cow who has pinkeye,” he said, raising his voice above the music.
“Whatever.” She started to close the door.
“Why don’t you come along?” he asked. “It’s bound to be interesting.” And might help them bond.
She looked as if she’d rather eat worms. “What’s interesting about pinkeye?”
“In a cow, it can be dangerous. It hurts a lot more than it does in humans. An infected animal often keeps her eyes closed because of the pain. She avoids sunlight, too, and stops foraging for food and water. If she doesn’t get well quickly, she could die.”
“That’s not interesting at all.”
The door shut rudely in his face. Patience fraying, he bit back a frustrated oath. When he was in vet school, she’d loved watching him work with sick or injured animals. Not anymore. Since he’d taken Taylor in and they’d moved here, he’d made sure to invite her along on any call he made when she wasn’t in school. So far, she’d always turned him down.
“I should be back in an hour or so, but I’ll phone when I know for sure,” he said through the door. No reply. “If you want dinner while I’m gone, there’s leftover lasagna in the fridge,” he added.
Nothing but hostile silence.
His fraying patience snapped. This time he opened the door without knocking. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I didn’t say you could come in here.”
