Hitched For The Holidays: Hitched For The Holidays / A Groom In Her Stocking. Barbara Dunlop

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Hitched For The Holidays: Hitched For The Holidays / A Groom In Her Stocking - Barbara Dunlop

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remember that day. It was about three months ago, beginning of August, right?”

      “Right. You have a good memory.”

      “Sometimes.”

      “Anyway, that’s the day he called and started talking about his favorite obsession—my marriage prospects. Had I found a ‘decent sort’ yet which translates to someone he won’t hate more than pickled beets or home shopping networks? I think he’s hated every boyfriend I’ve ever had!”

      “I guess fathers can be too protective.”

      “Can they! While he was talking, I remembered taking Peaches here for her shot. On impulse I told him I was seeing a doctor. After all, I had just seen you. I never dreamed he’d come before the end of tax time next April,” she babbled. “He’s an accountant, and that’s his usual vacation time. He always spends Christmas with my brother’s family. But he suddenly decided to retire early, and he’s coming to check on me.”

      “Ah.”

      Again the “ah.” She didn’t know whether he was sympathetic or eager to have her leave so he could see his next patient. He appeared to be giving her his full attention.

      “Well, I’ve wasted enough of your time,” she said, her resolve melting under his gaze.

      “You’re not the first.”

      “What?”

      “Not the first woman to make an unnecessary appointment for her pet.”

      She opened her mouth to deny it, but his eyes were too all-knowing, too penetrating…

      “No wonder,” he said, “when my mom, my aunts, even my receptionist have been recruiting bachelorettes for me since the breakup more than six months ago. One of Mom’s prospects even brought in a borrowed cockatoo to check me out.”

      “How do you know?”

      She was embarrassed to be busted, but glad she wasn’t the only one to book an unnecessary appointment as an excuse to see him. At least Peaches was a regular patient.

      “I can recognize my own patients, even when someone besides the owner brings the bird for a visit.”

      “I’m really sorry I bothered you,” she said, trying to lead Peaches toward the door.

      The Corgi plopped down on her hindquarters, a trick six weeks of obedience school had done nothing to delete from her repertoire.

      “So ask me,” the vet challenged.

      “Ask you?” To compound her general embarrassment, her voice squeaked.

      “What you came to ask me.”

      “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

      “It must matter a lot if you’re willing to pay for an appointment just to see me. If there’s something I can do…”

      Her nerve failed her, in no small part because she didn’t want to be turned down. The man was gorgeous. He probably had a pack of women on his heels. He’d never go along with what she wanted.

      “I’ve taken up too much of your time, and this is my busy season, as well. I’d better run.”

      Would he think she was terrible if she nudged the stubborn dog with her foot? Peaches was acting as infatuated as a human female, sniffing at Dr. Kincaid’s thick-soled running shoe with zeal.

      “You’re one of Santa’s elves?” he teased. “Rushing to get all the toys ready for Christmas?”

      “Close,” she admitted, relaxing a little because he was so friendly in spite of her dumb idea of pretending Peaches was sick. “I’m a professional organizer. I have to take care of my clients’ needs as much as I can now because the month before Christmas I’m always booked solid.”

      “What does a professional organizer do?” he asked, again with the sincere interest in his voice.

      “Unclutter closets, rearrange rumpled rooms, fight disorder at its root level. I have parties to plan, trees to decorate, gifts to buy, whatever busy people don’t have time to do themselves. Hopefully, my father will make his usual short, restless visit and jet out again before my schedule is a shambles.”

      “If he gets to meet your doctor.”

      “There is that,” she said glumly.

      “And you were hoping I would…”

      “It was a dumb idea.”

      “Spit it out, or I’ll have to charge you for two appointment slots.”

      “That’s blackmail!”

      “Yeah, it is, but you have me curious.”

      “I need a doctor to go out to dinner with my father.”

      “Your father and you?”

      “Both of us.”

      “He won’t believe unless he sees?”

      “No way.”

      “Okay.”

      “Okay? Just like that, okay?”

      “When?”

      “Saturday. I pick him up at the airport around three in the afternoon. He hates flying, so he’ll be pooped. It will practically guarantee a short evening.”

      “How about I pick you up at seven?”

      “Would you? Really?”

      She was so grateful she wanted to hug him. Scratch the grateful part. She wouldn’t mind a few hugs from her vet in shining armor even if he’d laughed at the idea of going out with her father and kicked her out of his office.

      “It will be pretty hard to pass me off as a people doctor if you pick me up. I live here. The second floor of the clinic is my apartment. Makes it handy if I have overnight patients to check on.”

      “I’m not going to pass you off as a physician. There’s nothing wrong with being a vet.” That didn’t come out quite the way she intended.

      “I thank you. The vet school at Iowa State University thanks you. My profession thanks…”

      “Please!” She gave the leash a tug Peaches couldn’t ignore.

      “Give Della the directions to your place. You’ll make her day.”

      He cut her off before she could start gushing again, but she wasn’t proud of what she’d done. She would have left with her tail between her legs if she had one. As it was, she slinked through the reception area, past the shelves of vitamins and pet supplies and the desk where Della Rodriguez managed the office.

      Della’s flamboyant red, yellow and

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