Pratt brought up the rear, going around to the inside of the L-shaped space formed by cupboards and counters. As he came into sight again, he ran his big hands through hair that—without the dust that frosted it—was so dark a brown it was almost black.
He needed a haircut—that was what Faith thought of the unruly mane that grazed his shirt collar and waved away from a ruggedly beautiful face with remarkable bone structure. It was a face the photographer who took her former family’s annual portraits would have adored. Sharply defined cheek-and jawbones would have put her ex-husband’s and her ex-father-in-law’s pie-shaped faces to shame.
After this cursory hair-combing, the vet made a show of washing his hands in the sink that occupied the other section of the counter. As Faith cast a glance down at Charlie, she somehow caught sight of Boone Pratt’s derriere. Disreputable jeans or not, it was one fine rear.
Fine enough to make Faith swallow hard to keep her composure.
After the vet had done a thorough job of washing his hands, he turned and came to stand directly opposite her and Charlie, dwarfing them both from a stature that must have been a full three inches over six feet.
“Who do we have here?” he asked in a more pleasant tone aimed at his patient as he held out one hand for the animal to sniff.
“This is Charlie,” Faith answered.
“Hi, Charlie,” Boone Pratt said soothingly and without so much as a glance at Faith. “Got yourself into trouble, did you, boy?”
“He’s a her. I mean, Charlie is a girl. I know it doesn’t seem like it from the name, but I got her when she was six months old and that was already what she’d been called and since it seemed to suit her because she’s not girlie at all, I just kept it.”
More information than was necessary, especially since the vet had looked for himself after Faith’s initial correction and he hadn’t paid any attention to what she’d said after that.
He stroked Charlie’s head with one of those large hands, a gesture so gentle and calming the dog actually began to nuzzle him for more.
Still, Faith felt obligated to warn him. “She’s been known to bite vets. They have to muzzle her to cut her nails or do anything with her tail end.”
“Guess it’s lucky that isn’t the end we need to work on, isn’t it, girl?” he asked Charlie as if Faith were incidental and he and the dog were sharing an inside joke.
Then, still focused on Charlie, he said, “Are you gonna let me take a look in your mouth?”
His voice was so deep and honeyed with persuasion that Faith almost complied herself. As it was, Charlie—who ordinarily barked and howled and snapped and made each visit to a veterinarian an ordeal—made a liar of Faith and repositioned herself to move nearer to Boone as if he were her owner.
“Let’s see what we have here,” he suggested, easing the animal’s jaws apart much as Faith had earlier and with Charlie’s willing cooperation.
It didn’t take more than one glance for him to add, “Yep, that’s a broken tooth, all right.”
Then he did a survey of the rest of the animal’s mouth before letting loose of Charlie’s jaws. Only then did he acknowledge that Faith was there. He returned to petting Charlie, who had now completely gone over to the vet’s side and was leaning against him as she curled contentedly into the bare—and very muscular—forearms of the man.
“She’s broken away most of her upper right molar—that’s the largest tooth in a dog’s mouth and there isn’t enough of it left for me to salvage it. It’ll have to be extracted.”
“How did she do that?”
“I don’t know. She isn’t talking,” he answered.
“I mean, aren’t dogs supposed to have really tough teeth?” she amended, wishing for some of that niceness he seemed to reserve for Charlie.
“They do have really tough teeth,” Boone Pratt confirmed. “But if they get hold of something tougher, their teeth can break just like a human’s.”
“And then the teeth have to be pulled?”
“Not always. Sometimes they can be saved—the same as with people. But not in this case.”
“Can she do without it?”
“She’ll adapt.”
“What does the extraction involve? I’m not sure I have the stomach for holding her down while you pull her tooth,” Faith confessed.
Boone Pratt frowned at her as if she were out of her mind. “I’ll have to call in my tech. We’ll do a full physical exam to make sure Charlie is otherwise healthy, but I don’t see any indications that she isn’t—”
“She is healthy. I had her in for her shots about a month ago. And she’s too active to be sick.”
Again he seemed to ignore her input and continued. “Then Charlie will be anesthetized and I’ll do the extraction. There’s no way it could be done with you just holding her down.”
“She has to be put out?” That seemed extreme.
“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to. But if you’d prefer a second opinion, you can take her somewhere else. Billings has vets I can recommend.”
“I wasn’t doubting you. I just don’t have any experience with this sort of thing. I’ve never even thought about dog dentistry and people aren’t given general anesthetic to pull a tooth,” Faith defended herself.
Boone Pratt said nothing.
Too bad he wasn’t as adept with people as he was with animals.
“And you’ll do it now?” Faith asked.
She hadn’t meant for her gaze to drop to his soiled clothes again when she’d said that. It had been a reflex in response to thinking that while the office was spotless, Boone Pratt was not. And this time it was clear he’d caught the implication.
“Same old Faith,” he said under his breath.
Faith had no idea what that meant. But she didn’t have any doubt it was insulting.
“Excuse me?”
He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe her, and acted as if he’d never made the remark.
“I was in the middle of saddle-breaking a horse when you called,” he said, clearly begrudging her the explanation. “While my assistant preps Charlie I’ll run home for a shower. By the time I get back I guarantee I’ll be cleaned up. I may even wash my hands again before I get to work. And wear surgical gloves—we do that here in the land of hayseeds, too,” he added sarcastically.
“The land of hayseeds?” she repeated.
“Isn’t that what you called Northbridge? The reason you couldn’t wait to get the hell out? And now here you are, gracing us with your high-and-mighty,
