Home for the Holidays by Leanne Banks

Author:Leanne Banks
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2003-10-12T04:00:00+00:00

So they waited quietly in the dim, musty-smelling barn. Ann Elise sneezed occasionally, and Joe blessed her and teased her. There were birds on the rafters. Something small—probably mice—scrambled in the dark corners. Oddly enough, it only added to the coziness. The intimacy. She was every bit as aware of the man beside her as of the patient before her, which wasn’t her nature at all. The animal always came first. Always, as more than one owner had learned to their discomfort.

Simply put, Joe was a major distraction, the older version even more intriguing than the young Joe of her dreams. The crow’s feet bracketing his eyes and a shadow of beard on that rock-bound jaw only added to the attraction. One of the things that had fascinated her most about the younger version was the contrast between his rugged features and a slow, sweet smile that could melt glaciers.

Goldy wasn’t the only lady present who was panting.

Joe rose and retrieved a box of latex gloves and a stack of clean, ragged towels from the truck. “Mom saves these for me,” he said, placing the towels on the edge of the tarp.

“This obviously isn’t her first litter,” Ann Elise observed, and Joe nodded agreement. “That helps.” They both knew that first timers could be tricky, especially when they were seriously distressed.

Now both watched for the first sign of trouble. The contractions were clearly visible. “I’d really like for her to do the job with as little outside interference as possible,” Ann Elise murmured, and again Joe nodded. He was a solid, reassuring presence at her side. His specialty was large animals, hers small, but in case help was needed, there were four experienced hands ready to take over.

Now and then he voiced an observation. Now and then she did. Mostly they talked shop, although she was dying to ask about his personal life, past, present and future.

But she didn’t, and so he related a few of his more memorable moments as a large animal vet, and she described some of the pitfalls of working with animal rescue. “For one thing,” she said, fluffing her drying hair with her fingers, “I live in an apartment. No yard, not even a patio. Animals are allowed, which was the only reason I took it, but animals in wholesale lots are discouraged. Most residents have a single pet—a few don’t have any. There are two African gray parrots in the apartment across the hall from mine, and let me tell you, they can make up in volume what they lack in size.”

He laughed, and she went on to tell him about the schizophrenic Hillside Setter she’d had to find a home for, the three-legged Australian sheepdog, a Silky rooster that insisted on living inside and eating at the table with the two women who shared the apartment.

“Who’s keeping the menagerie while you’re here?” Joe asked, amused because he’d done more or less the same thing in his early days. Adopted all the unwanteds, telling himself he’d find a home for them.

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