Tempted by the Brooding Vet, page 12
‘It’s not funny,’ she complained, trying to keep a straight face. ‘What am I going to do with ten ducks?’
‘Eat a lot of eggs?’ Alex suggested, still laughing.
‘I just wanted to save them from that man. After finding those dogs, I suppose I overreacted and didn’t consider the practicalities—like where I’m going to put them and what ducks need.’
‘Let’s finish our tea and then I’ll take care of the paperwork.’ Grabbing her hand, Alex lifted it to his lips and kissed the centre of her palm. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’ she asked ruefully. ‘Being a dope and making you laugh?’
‘No. For caring enough to want to make a difference. Not many people do.’
She smiled, but bit back a sigh. If only Alex could meet someone who made him laugh out loud every single day. There wasn’t a nicer sound than hearing his amusement and seeing his happiness. Both warmed her insides better than frothy hot chocolate.
When he let go of her hand and turned to speak to Wilf, Kiki continued to stare at him. Over the last few weeks Alex had wriggled through her solid self-protection, bypassing the thick wrappings she so determinedly kept around her heart.
And now, the moment she heard his laughter, she realised something she’d never thought possible. She didn’t just fancy Alex Morsi. Somehow she had fallen just a little bit in love with the infuriating, wonderful man...
CHAPTER NINE
ALEX RETURNED TO Fingle Lodge late Saturday afternoon, ready to sink into a warm bath. An emergency visit to a local farm to tend the family’s sick ewe hadn’t ended well. He’d taken one look at the sheep, listened to her symptoms and known he’d have no choice but to put the poor girl out of her misery.
Grumpy, tired and cold, he didn’t expect to find Kiki, dressed in ripped jeans, a grey jumper several sizes too big and her whale wellies, dragging garden rubbish into a large pile in the back garden. Since the kiss their relationship had stalled somewhere between caution and confusion. Neither sure what to do or say next.
‘You’re busy,’ he called from the kitchen doorway.
The smell of chicken roasting in the oven behind him stirred his hunger almost as much as the sight of the woman before him. Other than the thick slice of fruitcake Anne had handed him before he left for the farm, he hadn’t eaten anything substantial for a couple of hours.
Kiki stopped halfway across the newly cleared lawn and grinned. ‘Figured I should make the most of a dry spring day and start getting the garden into shape. I didn’t realise how much rubbish I’d end up with, though. I thought I’d build a bonfire. The ash will be good for the plants.’
He searched the area, seeing how much work she had already achieved. Gone was the thick layer of rotting leaves that had blanketed the area—instead several bare flowerbeds, enjoying their first glimpse of light for years, now edged the lawn. Plus, a neat stack of logs sat on one side just beyond the patio.
He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms. Impressed by how much work she’d accomplished. ‘It looks much better.’
She laughed and resumed dragging a mid-size tree branch. Its jagged end ploughed a trail through the soft grass. ‘It’s getting there. How did the visit go?’
He’d called Kiki before he’d left the practice to inform her he’d be late home. Over the last few days they’d shared most of their evenings like a couple, but without the intimacy. Each was hesitant to discuss the complex state of their relationship that was at times thornier and more twisted than the rose growing through the old cherry tree not five feet away.
‘Not good,’ he said, not wanting to think about the poor animal he’d had no choice but to euthanize. It was a part of his job that he hated, no matter that he’d ended the animal’s pain. ‘Do you want a hand?’
‘Are you sure?’ she puffed, flicking her gaze over him. ‘You look done in.’
Dismissing the appeal of a bath, he waved away her concern and stepped outside onto the old patio. He wouldn’t relax in the bathtub while she worked out here in the encroaching darkness.
‘I happen to be a master bonfire-maker. I’m surprised no one at work has mentioned it to you.’
‘Great,’ she said, leaning the branch against the rest of the stacked wood. ‘Probably best to position it over there, in the centre of the lawn. The grass isn’t much good, so I can reseed later on. It will be clear of all the overhanging trees, too’
He walked over to her, the bottom of his work boots picking up grass and leaves with each step. ‘What can I do?’
‘Grab the fallen branches from the apple tree at the bottom end, will you? They’re mostly rotten and no good keeping for firewood. If we put them on the bottom of the bonfire, we can add the weeds and dead plants on top.’
They worked together for the next forty minutes, piling wood and garden rubbish into a heap on the lawn. The sky darkened to murky black, until the only light they worked in was the glow from the kitchen and the dark shadows. A bird sang in a nearby tree, keeping them company.
Finally they stood back and regarded the mid-sized pile with satisfaction.
Kiki tugged off her thick gardening gloves. ‘Not a bad start.’ She fumbled in her pocket for a lighter, found it and tossed it to Alex. ‘You can help again.’
He caught the lighter easily. ‘Have I impressed you with my fire-building skills?’
‘No.’ She grinned and pointed at the large log he’d pulled close to the fire. ‘But you did uncover the best log to make a seat.’
He laughed and bent in front of the bonfire. Flicking the lighter into flame, he placed it to the rubbish until it caught fire. ‘See—this “man must light fire” bit is my speciality.’
She chuckled. ‘You’re an idiot.’
Perhaps, but he only acted like one around her. Kiki brought out the brighter side of his nature. The part he always kept buried, hidden from others. Maybe she was right when she said he needed to let out his fun side. Take a risk and let her see who he was deep inside.
She glanced towards the lodge and sniffed the air. ‘Our food should be ready. How about I dish up two plates and we eat out here by the fire?’
He straightened and tucked the lighter into his jeans pocket. ‘Sounds good.’
Sitting on the log seat, Alex watched the dancing and twisting orange and gold blaze work its way between the twigs and branches. From where he sat he could see Kiki moving around the kitchen as she plated up.
What the hell was he doing, spending more time with the woman when he should be distancing himself from her? Wasn’t he just creating a harder scenario for when he returned to his flat? One day soon Kiki would leave and then his life would return to normal. To the same empty routine he had lived most of his adult years. Why suddenly did it seem so lonesome when before it had never troubled him?
The cold harsh truth whispered on the breeze. He liked Kiki. He liked her a lot. She made him laugh even when she didn’t mean to. And, despite his initial reluctance, he enjoyed working with her. Competent, caring, and knowledgeable over new ideas and procedures, she fitted in at the practice.
The staff liked her, too. Anne declared her fantastic almost daily, and she didn’t seem to find him too annoying or hard to work with. A bonus, considering the number of past staff who had. The clients found her helpful and easy to deal with, often praising her patience and kindness.
Altogether she enhanced his world.
He also enjoyed their conversations and looked forward to seeing her smile every time he walked through the lodge’s front door. And tonight—well, tonight he just didn’t want to be alone.
He paused in his musing and watched Kiki exit the back door and walk across the lawn, her hips swinging with sexy fluidity as she carried the two plates. Firelight flickered over her face, casting her into both shadow and light.
Handing Alex a plate, Kiki took a seat next to him on the log. Their bodies rubbed at the hip.
‘Looks wonderful,’ Alex murmured appreciatively, not sure if he meant the food or the female at his side. His knee brushed against her own, sending a spark sizzling through him. One that was hotter than the flames before them.
Kiki stabbed a small golden-brown roast potato with her fork. ‘Everything looks good when you’re hungry.’
Alex took a bite of chicken so moist and perfectly cooked his tongue melted into flavour heaven. ‘I mean it. You’re a great cook.’
She turned to him. Several strands of blonde hair had escaped her hairband and framed her face. A smudge of dirt covered her left cheek and her large silver hoop earrings glinted in the firelight. She looked beautiful.
‘Thanks,’ she said.
Neither spoke again, content to eat the delicious food and enjoy the warmth from the bonfire.
Once their plates were cleared Alex stood, knowing the perfect way to round off their meal.
‘What’s wrong?’ Kiki asked when he reached for her plate.
Sometimes it was as if the woman read his mood—was intuitively able to pick up on his thoughts. ‘I need to fetch something. I won’t be long.’
Alex entered the kitchen and dumped the plates on the sink drainer. Walking over to where he’d dropped his work bag earlier, he unzipped it and withdrew the bottle of whisky he’d collected from his flat before leaving the practice. Several inches were missing from the top. Grabbing two glasses, he returned outside.
‘Are we celebrating?’ she asked, spotting the bottle.
Handing Kiki a glass, Alex sat down beside her. Unscrewing the lid, he poured a generous inch of liquid into her glass and then his own. Taking a quick sniff, he clinked his glass against hers. The fire hissed and popped, sending hot ashes into the air.
Raising his glass, he said, ‘Here’s to clearing the garden.’
Kiki lifted her glass to her mouth, taking her time to breathe in the strong aroma before taking a sip. ‘The toast needs to be better than just tidying the garden if we’re drinking this brand. I didn’t realise you liked whisky.’
‘I only drink it once a year. I prefer coffee to alcohol.’
She regarded him silently. ‘So what shall we toast?’
He swirled the whisky around for several moments, before raising it again. ‘How about Happy Birthday to me? Will that do?’
Kiki lowered her glass, her eyes searching his face. ‘It’s your birthday?’
He took a large gulp of his drink, the warm fluid chasing away the lingering taste of their meal. ‘It is.’
‘Why didn’t you say before? I would have baked a cake.’
He dipped his head and smiled faintly. Yes, she would have—out of kindness. ‘I like to keep my birthdays low-key.’
Kiki sipped her drink. ‘I didn’t notice any cards in your office. Are they in your bedroom?’
He shrugged, conscious of her watchful gaze, hearing the silent questions going through her mind. ‘I never receive any.’
She lowered her drink and echoed, ‘Never?’
He raised his eyes to hers. The steel core he’d formed as a child as the only way for him to cope with his home life hardened. He imagined the thoughts going through her head. What sort of person didn’t receive any birthday cards? Someone unlikeable? Someone people didn’t care about? Someone no one wanted to be around? Completely unimportant to his family?
‘Nope. Never.’
‘But what about your parents? Surely they send you one?’
Not in his memory. His birthday had never held any affection or importance for either one of them. Just another day to suffer through in their disappointing lives.
‘No.’
Kiki placed her glass down on the ground and shifted on the log. Her knees banged against his outstretched legs with the movement.
‘Are you saying your parents never send you a birthday card or gift?’
Alex took another swig of his drink, enjoying the burn and the heat in his throat. Nothing removed the bitter taste of life or unpleasant memories better than a well-matured whisky.
‘Yes.’
‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘You’re their son.’
‘That’s a fact they’d prefer to forget.’
Her fingers stroking the back of his hand surprised him. The unexpected contact comforted and soothed. He craved the touch, but at the same time resented it. Not wanting her pity because his parents considered him insignificant.
‘Your parents don’t sound very nice,’ she said, her fingers slipping around his hand.
He considered her remark for a moment, unable to deny the truth in it.
Why not tell Kiki the whole unpleasant reality?
‘They’re not exactly warm and loving. It’s the reason I never visit Ireland unless it’s for a family funeral.’
She edged closer, the movement causing her thigh to press against his. ‘Not even for Christmas or family weddings?’
‘Only funerals,’ he confirmed abruptly. He attended those out of respect for his aunts, uncles and cousins.
‘Did you row?’ she asked, her fingers caressing his palm.
The pads stroking against his skin tickled, but also calmed him. ‘No, it’s more they’re not overly fond of me,’ he confessed.
He glanced at the fire, not willing to see her reaction to his admission. Would she consider him as unloveable as his parents did? Decide there must be something wrong with him if his own parents didn’t care if he breathed or not? Actually, they’d probably prefer to be rid of the physical reminder of their poor choices, if asked.
‘How can they not like you?’ she demanded. ‘You’re a very nice man when you’re not being arrogant and bossy. And all gorgeously you.’
His fingers on his glass tightened and he glanced down at her. ‘You think I’m gorgeous, Kiki?’
‘I do.’ She nodded. ‘But I’m determined to ignore it, so forget I told you.’
Though his heart pinched at her words, he smirked at her confession. Was she struggling not to find him attractive? Fighting against the pull of temptation that had flared between them from the moment they’d met and which continued to grow.
She wiggled on the log; her expression determined. ‘I want to know why your parents don’t like you.’
Alex grimaced, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. The woman pushed harder than a priest during confession. He hated talking about his parents. He preferred people to think he had no family. It prevented awkward moments like this one. Because while many people regarded their parents with fondness and affection he felt only hollowness when he thought of his own.
‘Well, my mother tells me so every time she sees me.’
Kiki gasped, her eyes wide with outrage. ‘She tells you she doesn’t like you? How horrible. Why?’
He decided to give her the short version of his parents’ relationship. ‘She was forced to marry my father when she discovered she was pregnant with me. A child she did not want with a man she liked even less. Worse, he’s not Irish. Add in the curse of growing up in a staunch and deeply religious household and you have their marriage. It’s something she’s never accepted.’
‘What is your father, then?’ Kiki asked.
‘Spanish. And he still longs for the woman he lost. My mother’s younger sister. She died, and in grief and stupidity he turned to my mother for one night of sex. Terrible sex, apparently. A mistake he’s regretted for over thirty-six—no, thirty-seven years.’
‘Well, your mother should have kept her knees together if she didn’t want a baby and your father should have worn a condom.’
Alex laughed. ‘I’ll be sure to tell them next time I’m unfortunate enough to visit.’
Kiki nodded satisfied with his promise. ‘Yes, do so. Though if they had abstained or used contraception then you wouldn’t be here, and that would be a shame.’
Warmth and softness jerked in Alex’s heart, easing his discomfort. ‘Really?’
She nodded and bumped his shoulder. ‘Think of all the animals you’ve saved and the owners you’ve made happy because of it. Think of your greyhound.’
‘My tattoo?’ he asked, confused, wondering if he’d given Kiki too much whisky.
‘Yes. Most men choose an ugly picture of a football player or a mass of swirls which make no sense—but you picked a sleeping greyhound. It’s lovely.’
‘Her name was Nia. A neighbour gave her to me when I was twelve. He’d saved her from the racetrack. He used to help me sometimes if I wasn’t sure how to care for or heal an animal. His knowledge surpassed anyone I ever met at college or since. He was a good friend and he never mocked my desire to become a vet.’
‘He sounds nice.’
‘He was. He never had the chance to become a vet himself, but he helped me achieve it.’
Alex glanced at her face, tensing as two tears suddenly escaped her lashes and rolled over her fire-warmed cheeks. ‘Why are you crying?’
‘Because I’m sad,’ Kiki whispered.
His stomach clenched harder. ‘Over what I’ve told you? Or the animals I’ve helped?’
She nodded, more tears falling. ‘Both. But mostly because your parents are horrible and it’s your birthday and you didn’t receive a card or present from anyone.’
‘Don’t cry,’ he soothed gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ‘There’s no need. It’s no different for me than any other birthday.’
‘But there is a need,’ she sobbed against his jacket. ‘Your parents don’t deserve to have such a wonderful, clever son.’
‘I thought I was an arrogant oaf?’ he said, reminding her of her comments on the first day they first met.
‘Oh, you’re that too,’ she agreed. ‘It’s why I like you, though I don’t particularly want to. No one’s perfect. Especially not you.’
