Page 30 of Vetted for Vengeance
“I look forward to it.” All of it. Even if my discussion with him is about death.
As long as it isn't mine. I’m still not sure which side of his life I belong to, or if I’m supposed to survive either of them.
Chapter seventeen
Rhys
My veterinary practice is my happy place. Home is where I relax; here is where I thrive. Home is where I rest. Here is where I am in control.
Predictable problems. Solvable outcomes. Lives I can fix instead of ending.
As long as there is order and routine in the chaos.
There has always been routine and order in the chaos. Now there is him. Disruptive. Unscheduled. Unmanageable.
Noah.
He is here. Dressed in his work clothes. Not because it is practical, but because it's all he owns.
Noah stands awkwardly near the reception desk, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn trousers. Trying to make himself smaller or less noticeable. It doesn’t work.
“Noah, I'd like you to shadow Tree today.”
“Tree?”
“It's her name. Tree. Short for Teresa. She's floating today, so she will help in all areas of the practice. You can decide ifyou want to try nursing yourself.” That should stop him from standing and looking at me. It won’t.
But it might make it easier to pretend I’m not watching him too.
The trouble is, now I'm standing and watching him.
I am a very busy man. Consultations, surgery, emails to check. Not watching a young man whose only skill is an obsessive love of puppies. And yet my attention keeps circling back.
Like he’s the variable I haven’t accounted for.
“His uniform should arrive soon.” Martha, the office manager, steps up beside me with a coffee extended in her hand.
“Uniform?” I was thinking about getting him better clothes, but I said nothing to her about it. I don’t need to. People anticipate what I want.
“Oh, I assumed the producer spoke to you about it before he asked. He wants Noah in scrubs or something… better.” She gestures at the tears in his hoodie with her hand.
“You’re one step ahead of me.” I nod approvingly. He will look so much better when he is wearing decent clothes.
Something fitted around his ass would make him look taller and slimmer. Something fitted would sharpen his lines. Define what’s already there.
Make him… harder to ignore.
Noah turns, catches my eye, and smirks. It's like he knows exactly what I am thinking. He shouldn’t.
I've barely finished the coffee when the package arrives. This isn't the usual three-day service they offer; this is next-day delivery. This is paid for by their name appearing in the Follow the Vet credits. Everything has a transaction. Even kindness.
“Noah.” I start forward with the package. “Your uniform is here. I hope it's the right size.”
Of course it's the right size; the production team has an expert in hair and makeup. Lola. She can size someone up from acrossthe room and keeps a small supply for days when we want to film someone who isn't dressed for the occasion.
“Oh, wow.” Noah seems to appreciate the uniform. “Are these really for me?”
He runs the mint green fabric between his fingers as if it might disappear, or he thinks it isn’t something he’s allowed to keep.
