It took him two minutes to leave the administration wing, pass the massive lecture halls and labs, and enter the teaching clinic.
The first thing Hunter saw was Josie, her arm around her father. Her hair had slipped free from the clip on her head, falling down her back in thick reddish-brown curls. Her shirt was covered in a fine coating of flour; two more streaks ran across her forehead and into her hairline. He smiled at the flour handprint on her hip.
Her words rang in his ears, branding his heart. But seeing her worried and disheveled only reminded him that she was hurting, too. This time, right now, he could make it better.
She saw him then, her gray eyes widening before everything about her relaxed. “He’s here, Dad. It’ll be okay.”
Damn, she looked beautiful. “Hi.”
Carl was clutching a trembling Sprinkles to his chest. “Hunter, I didn’t know if you were working the clinic today—”
“You think I’d let anyone else take care of Sprinkles?” Hunter patted the dog’s head, looking into the small canine’s brown eyes. He glanced at the desk clerk. “Call Dr. Archer in to assist with Larry. Jason and Hanna should have him prepped and ready to go.”
“Yes, Dr. Boone. Room four is open,” she added.
He nodded, assessing the situation. Yes, Sprinkles was sick, but Carl was clearly worn-out. “How about I carry Sprinkles?” Hunter took the dog. “Follow me.”
He placed his hand over the dog’s chest, counting the beats per minute. One thirty-six. Nothing irregular. Breathing was a little labored, but Sprinkles didn’t like riding in the car, so that was just as likely to cause her panting as anything. Once they were in the exam room, he put Sprinkles on the metal exam table and looked at Carl. “What happened?”
“Dad, please sit.” Jo pulled one of the chairs closer to the table.
“I don’t know.” Carl sat in the chair, resting his hand on the dog’s head. “I just don’t know. Sprinkles and I were watching a John Wayne flick, a good one. Then Josie and Fisher were yelling in the bakery, so I left to see what they were going on about. Sprinkles was in my chair. I came back and she’s lying on the floor, acting like this.” He pointed at Sprinkles for emphasis. The dog was definitely not her normal, bouncing, yapping self.
Hunter put the earpieces of his stethoscope in and listened to Sprinkles’s stomach. “Did she eat anything?”
“Her food,” Carl answered. “You give her anything, Josie?”
Hunter looked at Jo and froze. She was staring at him, intently. In the depths of her silver gaze he saw something that made him ache. What was going on inside that head of hers?
“Josie?” Carl repeated, making Jo jump and reminding Hunter he had a job to do.
“No, I didn’t.” Her hand rested on her father’s shoulder. “You’ve told me a dozen times she’s on a special diet.”
Carl patted his daughter’s hand.
Hunter focused on the dog. “Could she have gotten into something?”
“She gets into everything,” Carl admitted.
“I’ve had to chase her out of my suitcase every morning.” Jo smiled.
“She eat something bad? Josie, you have perfume or something that could make her sick?”
“No, Dad. Besides, if she’d drunk my perfume, she’d smell better.” Jo’s voice was teasing.
“That’s not funny, Joselyn Marie.”
Like hell it isn’t. Hunter winked at Jo.
He saw the splash of color on her cheeks, the way she blinked and looked at her father. “Sorry, Dad.” She bent, pressing a kiss to Carl’s temple.
“I don’t think we need to get too worried just yet,” Hunter said as Sprinkles stood up. Her little stomach tensed and she vomited a glob of clear gelatinous fluid onto the metal exam table.
“Sprinkles,” Carl groaned.
“Jo?” Hunter used a long exam swab to poke the goop. “You use any sort of face cream?”
“Yes. Anti-wrinkle gel.”
Hunter stood back and grinned. “I’d check the container when you get home. Bet it’s gone.”
Carl glared up at Jo.
“Dad.” Josie shook her head. “It was on the vanity counter, out of her reach.”
“Sprinkles has always been a good jumper, if I remember,” Hunter said. Sprinkles had belonged to old Mrs. Henry for three years before she’d decided a cat was less work for her. Hunter had offered to help find the dog a home. Carl and Sprinkles had taken one look at each other and clicked.
Carl nodded. “Guess I need to put on some of those baby locks to keep her out of things.”
Sprinkles vomited again, shaking.
Hunter watched. “Might be best if we keep her here—”
“Nope.” Carl shook his head. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
Hunter glanced at Jo, who shrugged at him. “Dad—”
“No.” Carl wasn’t taking no for an answer. “She’ll be happier at home. We can keep her in her kennel.”
“You need to keep her hydrated,” Hunter said.
“Anything else?” Carl asked.
“Don’t feed her.” Hunter glanced between the two of them. He couldn’t help it if his attention lingered on Jo. “Not today, anyway. We’ll see how she is tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, her gaze meeting his. “Maybe you could swing by and check on her later?”
Hunter stared at her then. He was more than willing to make a house call for Sprinkles. But he’d expected Carl to make the suggestion, not Jo, not after their exchange the other night. Did he dare smile at her? He wanted to.
“Hey, now, that’s an idea.” Carl nodded.
“If you’re free?” She seemed uncertain, hesitant.
Now he really wanted to know what was going on in that beautiful, stubborn head of hers. “I’ll stop by later.” He’d leave work now if he thought it would mean more time with her. “And I’ll install the baby locks, if you have them for me.”
“Fine, but if we’re putting you to work, we’re feeding you.” Carl stroked the dog’s head. Sprinkles whimpered. “Come here.” Carl pulled the little dog close.
“Carl,” Hunter cautioned. “At least let me get you a towel. Things are gonna get messy real fast.”
He saw Jo’s nose wrinkle and laughed.
Carl
