Elizabeth Finn - Unforgiven

Now

“Dr. Cory? Macy is ready if you want to come on back.” He stood, dropped the Dog Fancy Magazine he’d been flipping through, and walked toward the scrub-clad young woman standing in the exam room doorway. Damned dog decided it would be a great day to eat an entire bag of Hershey’s Chocolate Kisses he’d stashed in the pantry. Macy was a ridiculously stupid labradoodle with curly blond hair and a tongue that was nearly always hanging out the side of her mouth.

When he followed scrub gal into the room, she closed the door behind them, turned, and smiled. “Doctor Gregson will be in in a moment.” She excused herself out the opposite door in the room, and he settled into wait some more.

No more Dog Fancy Magazines. Hell, he couldn’t even find a Cat Fancy, but fortunately he didn’t have to wait long. A taller woman with a blonde bob-style haircut walked in. She was cute, and she instantly flashed him a million-dollar smile when her gaze took him in. Actually, her eyes were roving quickly over every inch of him. She was good at being subtle as she checked him out, but not good enough to hide it from him. He didn’t mind, and frankly, he was quite used to it.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Veronica Gregson. You must be Dr. Cory?”

“Yes. Call me Darren.” It was common courtesy with other doctors, regardless of how many legs their patients walked on. He was well aware doctors of the animal type had to earn their knowledge in just as arduous a fashion as he had, and their pay-off was far less than his would ever be.

“It’s good to meet you, and please, call me Veronica.” She reached her hand out to him, and he smirked as he shook her hand. It was seductive, and she responded with a blush to her cheeks. “So, Macy is going to be just fine. We induced vomiting with Apomorphine right after you dropped her off this morning, we gave her activated charcoal, and then we monitored her all day. She was quite the mess after vomiting dark chocolate—that’s what you get for having such a blonde dog.” She was twirling one of her own blonde locks between her fingers as she spoke—no doubt still flirting. “So, I had a kennel helper give her a bath, and she’s just clipping her nails right now.”

“Great. Anything I need to watch out for tonight when I get her home?”

“Not really. We’ve had a close eye on her all day, and she’s not showing any signs of theobromine poisoning, so I really don’t expect you’ll have any problems, but signs to look for would include hyperactivity, muscle twitching, and increased urination. We’d want to see her back if you start noticing any of those symptoms.” Darren nodded his head as he held the good doctor’s gaze. She bit down on her lower lip, her own seduction, and after studying him for a moment, she opened her mouth, closed it, chuckled quietly as her eyes flit away, and then zoned back in on him again. “I hope I’m not sounding too forward, but you don’t have a wedding band on, and I was just wondering if you’re seeing anyone.”

He smiled, and he shook his head slowly. He was toying with the anxious woman now. He had no idea the vet clinic could be so much fun, and as her cheeks turned rosy again, he chuckled.

“Maybe you’d like to go out sometime. Savoy might not be the most exciting place on the planet, but I’m sure we could have fun.” Seductive again. She was good at seductive. When the door opened moments later, he’d still not given her a response.

“Doctor, Macy’s ready.” His eyes flashed to the door that was opening behind the pretty doctor at the sound of that voice. That voice was not a voice he was capable of forgetting. She stepped through the door holding Macy’s leash in her hand, but the moment her gaze lifted to his, her eyes bulged, dropped to his feet, and then she took an inadvertent step back as though she were ready to run. She paused in the doorway. She must have known running wasn’t an option, even if it might be her gut reaction. Her brow flinched harshly, and she refused to look at him.

Darren’s own expression must have been harsh, given the shocked and concerned look on Veronica’s face. “Um . . . Bethany . . . or . . . I’m sorry. I just don’t recall your name. Uh . . . can you give Dr. Cory his dog, please?” Veronica sounded annoyed as she snapped at Bailey.

“Her name is Bailey.” He offered her name before he could help himself. He almost sounded as though he was defending her, but that was impossible. She didn’t deserve his defense. But he’d be damned if he wasn’t suddenly glaring at Veronica. Bailey walked toward him hesitantly. Her hand was still bandaged but not wrapped. It had only been two days since he’d been forced to endure her again, and he’d not stopped thinking about her the entire time.

She offered him Macy’s leash as his dumbfounded dog stood between them, drooling like an idiot. He reached out, taking the leash from her fingers. His own fingers brushed over hers gently, and she gasped. He just watched her, unable to figure out how the hell to react. He felt a bit crazy when he was around her, and he’d not shaken the crazy since seeing her two nights before.

“Do you two know one another?”

“Yes.” Their voices echoed one another, but neither offered more information than that.

As he continued to watch her, her eyes moved to and then from him over and over. She was so exceptionally nervous around him. Of course she would be, and in one moment, the sight of her brought him pain, and then it brought anger and utter sadness. She was an emotional roller coaster to him, and in a flash of anger, he turned his eyes to Veronica. “Didn’t know you hired felons.”

Bailey gasped as Veronica’s eyes widened, and he watched as Bailey shook her head before walking out the door behind her. Darren followed suit and left through the opposite door, leaving Veronica staring after him. He paid quickly, but not quick enough.

“So, felon, huh?” It was Veronica.

He just stared at her, saying nothing. The flirtation was gone—dead and gone.

“You didn’t answer my question earlier. About going out sometime?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m really busy at the hospital right now.” He turned and walked away, and Veronica again stared after him, stunned.

Macy was sitting beside him in his Infiniti SUV. Thank God for leather; she was so damn excited, her drool was practically a steady stream onto the seat beneath her. But Darren wasn’t thinking much about his faithful, albeit brain-dead companion; he was thinking about her. Veronica . . . or was it Bailey? He’d been prepared to accept her proposal, but then Bailey appeared . . . again. After six years, he’d managed to see her twice in less than three days. He was starting to feel haunted. He hated Bailey. Seeing her made him want to put his fist through a fucking wall, and yet, he’d rejected Veronica instead. Why? Not that he hadn’t taken his shot at Bailey too, but why did he suddenly find Veronica reprehensible?

Staying away from Bailey was the only way he was going to keep his sanity. At least now he knew he was going to have to find a new vet in order to make that happen. Fuck. It might be a relatively small town, but he wasn’t catching a break.

He pulled from the parking lot with Macy slobbering out the passenger window, and as he started driving toward his home, his mind wandered. She looked the same. Her skin was just as smooth as it had always been. She’d never worn much makeup, never really needed it to be cute. He remembered seeing Jess and Bailey dressed for prom one year, waiting for their dates to arrive. He’d been blown away by how much different she’d looked with actual makeup on. She was stunning, but he’d never gotten used to it. He’d always liked her fresh-skinned with nothing more than glossy lips and her bright, round eyes.

She used to wear her long chestnut hair straight as a board and all one length. It had shone and been as glossy as she always kept her lips. Her hair was still long, but she had layers that made it look full and wavy, and it still shone like silk as it cascaded down. She still looked young and innocent, and it was confusing. He wanted to hate her—he did hate her, and yet . . . she looked so damn much like the girl he’d grown up with—that sweet, smart, somewhat shy girl he used to think about far more than he had any business thinking about.

He nearly missed his turnoff and had to slam on his brakes, pinning Macy to the passenger seat with his forearm to keep the girl from flying forward. His home was buried in the Ozark woods on the hills that overlooked Lake Savoy below. He built his home a year before when he decided he was going to stay in Savoy. He didn’t have to, of course, and once his residency was finished in Little Rock, he’d considered moving on, but leaving his family behind wasn’t something he wanted to do anymore. There had been a time when he’d wanted to end up somewhere, anywhere, far from Arkansas, but he was a country boy at heart—Ozark country if nothing else, and he needed to be home now.

The home was built within the tall, towering pines, and the only trees he’d excavated were those that were simply in the way of his large, rustic home and those that directly obscured his view of the lake below from his large deck. He loved his home. It made coming back to this place tolerable. It was his sanctuary—all his. He rarely had company, his family and the occasional date. He dated plenty, but he avoided letting most women come home with him—preferring to fuck them on their own ground than his. He just didn’t want to share this place. He wasn’t ready to share any real part of himself yet.

He let Macy run while he collected wood for the outside chimney on his deck, and he stacked the wood on the already plenty high woodpile. When he hiked down to the lake with Macy in tow, he walked carefully. He wasn’t interested in falling victim to a copperhead bite, and he sure as hell didn’t want to pay any more vet bills when his dumbass dog got herself bitten. He loved the dog. He also really enjoyed her utter stupidity.

He’d taken Macy to a dog park once a few months ago. He’d expected his dog to make easy friends with pretty much every other animal there, and she had. She didn’t have an aggressive bone in her body. What he hadn’t expected was the overwhelming need most dog owners had to tout just how brilliant and well-trained their furry companions were. Darren wasn’t kidding himself. His dog was dumb—even by dog standards, but when he’d made the mistake of actually acknowledging such a thing, the lovely young woman he was talking to actually bent down to cover Macy’s ears as though he’d just said the most cruel thing in the world. “No” was the only cruel word his dog understood, and he spent the next five minutes trying hard to stifle his laughter as the pretty woman driveled on about her genius-level poodle. He walked away with her number and conveniently lost it in the parking lot. He knew his Macy was dumber than a box of rocks, but you’d hear no complaints from him. She was also likely the nicest dog you’d ever meet. Nothin’ much to complain about.

The water was smooth as glass, and he spent five minutes skipping stones across the flat surface, destroying that glassy surface and sending ripples out in every direction every time he cocked his arm back and slung. He found a large rock, brushed it clean, and sat with his feet up on a smaller rock closer to the water’s edge. He kept his eyes moving over the surface of the rocks—there were more than just copperheads to worry about, and he was no more excited to be bitten by a fiddleback than a snake.

Macy plodded through the water at the shallow rocky shoreline, getting wet up to her shoulders. She was destroying the bath she'd gotten earlier in the day with lake water. Cleanest, clearest lake water around, but lake water nevertheless. She’d bathed his dog. She’d clipped his dog’s nails even. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d known whose dog it was she was wrestling in a tub—he’d bathed the animal before. It couldn’t have been an easy chore. What difference did it matter if she’d known it was his dog or not? Did he think she’d be cruel to his dog on his account? Of course not. Hatred was a one-way street with them, and it flowed directly from him to her.

“Mace!” She was trampling through some downed limbs that hung out into the water. Good place for copperheads and fiddlebacks. His dog was going to live a short life in this place. He smiled at Macy as she hopped around barking.

It was spring, and the weather was comfortable. The redbuds were in full bloom, speckling the forest with their pink flowers. It was a beautiful time of year, and his gaze fell on the opposite shoreline of his little cove, taking in the multitude of colors, but even that didn’t keep his mind from disappearing for a while.