from the window. It wouldn’t do to ruminate on that now. The whole point in coming here, agreeing to run Dad’s clinic while his parents took a one-month, long-overdue vacation to visit his father’s brother in Washington, DC, was to not think about what happened in Alaska. Ethan sat down in the receptionist’s seat and put his head in his hands. How could he not think about it? How could he not think about her—about what she’d done to break his heart into a thousand tiny shreds?
It was impossible.
He had looked forward to that research trip with great enthusiasm, knowing he’d get to spend every day with Jessica Fields, the incredibly intelligent and physically stunning colleague he’d been dating for a couple of weeks, following her recent arrival at his department at the university. And he’d gotten everything he wanted. Their time in northernmost Alaska, a place he’d learned both to love and respect for its extreme beauty and danger, had been absolutely perfect. The team’s research on the impact of climate change and infectious disease in polar bears advanced far beyond what they’d initially anticipated, and so had his relationship with Jessica.
It wasn’t until their final day that she’d begun to show signs of unease that any scientist worth his salt would have noticed. When he’d leaned in to kiss her on the flight back to Colorado, an action that at that point in their time together had become commonplace, Jessica had pulled away, and he confronted her.
She wasn’t single, she said, her eyes full of regret but not, he’d noted sadly, remorse. She was engaged to marry her college sweetheart and had no plans to break it off on account of what she called a “fling.” She had led him on, she said.
Well, on that point he certainly would not argue. Sleeping with him, telling him she loved him, making plans with him...yes, he’d say she was damn right that she’d led him on. Ethan had immediately requested an alternative seat on the airplane, enduring the remainder of the flight with a clenched jaw, knotted stomach and the blinding urge to scream at the woman who had, in the space of a few months, turned his life upside down, and then quickly and heartlessly destroyed him.
The department head, though confused at his hasty, fictional explanation, had granted Ethan’s request for a short sabbatical, a semester off. Ethan hadn’t taken a vacation since accepting the position five years before, and he supposed he was due a break. Though it hurt, not to get started right away on compiling and writing up the Alaskan data for conference presentations. He would never forget the way his breath had caught and his heartbeat raced as he’d knelt next to one of those regal bears to take a blood sample before the tranquilizer wore off. They were the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen; they deserved saving and he would spend the rest of his life working to do just that.
He pushed out a breath, lifting his head to stare out the window once more as he listened to wind that had begun to swirl and howl. For now, he needed time—even just a few months—to figure out how to go back to the university and face Jessica, who had made it clear she had no plans to leave the team, despite what she’d done to him. He needed to come to terms with the fact that the only woman he’d ever fallen for was getting married to someone else and, worst of all, didn’t seem to give a single damn what it would do to him.
In the meantime, he had the clinic, and over the past two weeks, he had to admit, he’d become fond of the locals and their beloved pets, and even of his house calls to care for a few horses and cattle on nearby ranches. He’d always loved the research part of being a veterinary pathologist, but this...this change of pace and reminder of where his career had begun, was nice, too, at least for now.
Ethan’s head jerked up at the sound of raucous banging. It took him a minute to realize that it was coming from the front door, which he’d locked an hour ago after closing. Who on earth could be knocking—no, pounding—on the door now? Ethan knew that his father occasionally extended his workday beyond its normal twelve hours when a special circumstance arose, but no one had called to say they’d be coming in late or anything of the like.
He got up from the chair quickly, leaving it swiveling as he paced to the door. Whoever stood on the front stoop wasn’t visible from the window he’d been looking out before, and the blinds were pulled down on the other side to cover the spot where the sun hit in late afternoon; he’d have to get much closer and peer through them to identify his visitor.
Ethan rolled his eyes. Yes, it was his duty to help out the local animal population in any way he could, but the day had already been particularly trying—several regular exams on top of two challenging, back-to-back house calls—and he practically ached to warm up a frozen meal, shower away the fur and jump into the cozy bed in his parents’ guest room.
When he got to the door, he slid a finger between two blinds and peered out, but the snow was quite thick now, surprisingly so, and the visitor so bundled up that he couldn’t make out anything other than the bright crimson of a coat and matching hat. He didn’t even see any animals. But the wind was so fierce, and the snow falling in such a thick blanket, that he was compelled to open the door and let the poor person in, reminding himself that this was Peach Leaf, therefore generally void of a large city’s potential threats.
Bracing himself, Ethan unlocked and pulled open the door, breath rushing from his lungs as the icy air hit. A tall figure rushed forward, nearly pummeling him to get inside the building, and for a second he regretted his decision to be kind.
“Oh, thank you,” came a voice, definitely a woman’s, from somewhere in the depths of the coat and beanie. Ethan closed the door behind her.
“Thank you so, so much for letting me in. I thought there might not be anyone here this late and I was about to turn around and go back to my car, but...”
“Whoa, there. Hang on just a minute. Let’s start at the beginning. How does that sound?” He clasped his hands in front of his abdomen and gave her some space.
The woman stopped speaking and pulled up her hat, which had fallen down into her face, nearly covering what he now saw were large, green—a very lovely green, in fact—eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing out a puff of air. She reached out a gloved hand in Ethan’s direction and he took it, startled to discover how cold it was.
She must be absolutely frozen from head to toe. He’d checked the thermometer that afternoon and, even before the sun had gone down, the temperature was below freezing. If he hadn’t let her in, she might have been in real trouble. His semester in Alaska had taught him plenty about the dangers of extreme cold, and even though they were in Texas, which was generally mild, the hazards were the same if one wasn’t careful. It didn’t matter that the weather was out of the norm; it simply was, and therefore caution would need to be observed.
He hadn’t anticipated things getting so bad, and hadn’t much of a chance to pay attention to the forecast other than his brief check on the internet as he’d scarfed down a sandwich earlier, but now he could see plainly that the winter storm the meteorologists predicted had escalated quickly.
The woman pumped his hand up and down a few times before letting it go. “I’m June. June Leavy. I came by on the slim chance that Dr. Singh might still be here this late, and, well, I didn’t really know what else to do.”
“I’m Dr. Singh,” Ethan said, doing his best to offer a warm smile despite feeling anything but.
The woman—June—narrowed her eyes and tilted her head to study him, chuckling softly. “Wow, Dr. Singh, I have to say, you look like you’ve stumbled upon the elusive fountain of youth.”
Ethan had to laugh at that. Most folks, unless their pets were ill or aging, only came in for annual checkups and vaccinations. It made sense that the senior Dr. Singh would not have had a
