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The car squealed on two wheels around the corner, accelerating through orange lights.
“Next left!” I called. “Then second right!”
The driver nodded tersely, spinning the wheel in first one direction, then the other, his face grim.
I stroked Baxter’s head gently as he lay shivering in my lap. “Hang in there boy,” I whispered. Rapid weak pulse, stare fixed straight ahead, skin cool—I was a nurse, not a vet, but I knew enough to see that he was in shock. Then there were the injuries—several deep gashes along his shoulder and side. I didn’t know what was going on internally.
The closest vet was 10 minutes away. The stranger had said he’d be there in five.
The stranger. I looked at him again, focusing on anything but the worry. The stranger in the expensive suit and the silver Aston Martin.
He’d hit Baxter, yes. And I’d screamed at him when I arrived, too distraught to acknowledge it was my dog that had caused the accident, not his car. But then I’d seen the look on his face. He’d picked the dog up without a thought for the suit he was ruining, and told me to get in the car.
He was perhaps a couple of years older than me, salt and pepper just starting at his temples amidst jet black hair. Strong jaw, heavy eyebrows. His accent had sounded European.
We approached an intersection fast. He looked left and right, then accelerated through it. Siren’s started as a police car emerged from a side street.
I looked down at Baxter’s labored breathing. In humans, the first minutes were the most important. We didn’t have time to stop!
The stranger reached for his phone. The other end picked up as soon as he dialed. “Richards... yes, I know. We can discuss that later,” the stranger said. I couldn’t hear the reply. “Right now, I need you to make a call.”
He spoke with authority, like he was used to being obeyed. “We’re on Long St, heading east. I’ve got a police car with its sirens on behind me. Can you have a word with them please?”
A pause.
“Excellent.”
Another pause. “Yes. Please apologize for me, I’m going to be late. I’ll explain when I get back.”
The stranger shut the phone off with a click. The sirens turned off seconds later.
* * *
A nurse looked up as we crashed through the doors of the veterinary surgery, her hand flying to the emergency buzzer when she saw the bloody pile of fur in the stranger’s arms. She rushed toward us. “Hit by a car?”
I nodded, but it was the stranger who spoke. “I need this dog looked at now,” he commanded. “Call in whoever you have to, no expense spared.”
A vet pushed through a set of large stainless doors. Baxter snapped at her, then sunk back into the stranger’s arms, too tired to care as she ran gentle hands along his fur line. “Multiple abrasions,” she murmured, tracing the trail of injuries on his left side. “Shock. At least two deep lacerations. Did I hear you say he was hit by a car?”
The stranger nodded.
“We’re going to need to X-ray him for fractures, and perform an ultrasound as well.” She motioned to us swiftly. “Follow me please.”
We followed her through the double doors and into a large, sterile operating room where two nurses were already scrubbing up. In the center of the room, lit by operating lights, was a large stainless steel table. A mobile monitor blinked at us from one corner.
“Name please?” A third nurse carrying a clipboard approached us.
I cleared my throat, finally able to speak. “Kate Wilmont.”
“If you could just fill out this form, we’ll need to know a couple of details before we get started. The dog’s name, age, medical history. I assume you have pet insurance?”
I cleared my throat again, the words sticking. “Actually, no.”
Motion in the surgery ceased. After a brief pause, the vet walked toward us. “Miss Wilmont, trauma to an animal can get expensive very quickly.”
Baxter snapped at the vet again, and she stepped back one pace. “Especially if we have to put him under general anesthetic.”
“I don’t care about how much it costs.”
She looked at me kindly. “I know this is an uncomfortable conversation, but I need to ask. How will you be paying? Unfortunately, we’ll need a deposit before we can start.”
I patted my pockets, suddenly remembering my handbag, still lying scattered where I’d dropped it—if it hadn’t been stolen. I looked at the vet wildly. “I was out for a walk, it all just happened so fast!”
The vet opened her mouth to reply, but a metallic ting made us both pause. A black titanium credit card was being tapped firmly against the stainless steel bench.
“We’re wasting time Doctor,” said the stranger. His voice was strong, used to being obeyed. “This should cover any costs incurred. No expense spared, understand?”
The vet took the card hesitantly. “This is a Black Amex.”
He raised an eyebrow. “My credit is no good here?”
She swallowed, then turned to the nurses. “Let’s get that X-ray, stat.” Then she turned to us. “Sir, please put the dog on the table, then if I can ask you both to wait outside. This might take a while.”
* * *
I began to pace the length of the waiting room, my mind numb. The stranger put his hand on my shoulder. “Hey. It’s going to be ok. That’s a special little dog you’ve got there.”
I looked at him, wildness in my eyes. “He’s my best friend. I don’t want him to die.”
He shook his head. “He won’t. A couple of cuts, and I suspect more shock than anything. I wasn’t going very fast when I hit him.”
He was just saying that to make me feel better. Baxter was probably in there, right now, fighting for his life. I began to pace again.
Gently, the stranger held me still. He leaned down, to look into my eyes. “Hey. Why don’t we talk, take your mind off things?” A signet ring glinted in the waiting room light as he held out his hand. “Here, I’ll start. My name’s Xander.” He pronounced it Zander.
“Kate.”
“What do you do, Kate?”
“Um, I’m a nurse,” I said, taking a deep breath, focusing on the conversation. “I guess I should be at work right now.”
He shook his head. “Right now, you need to be here with your dog. Work can wait.”
I nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. You’re right of course.” I laughed, the touch of wild fear coming through again. “Maybe I’m in shock myself.”
He took my cold hands in his, warming them. They were strong hands, but gentle. They guided me to a chair. My eyes ran up his arms to settle on his face. He was tall; blue eyes framed with dark lashes and a five o’clock shadow.
I blinked. Attractive, actually. Very attractive. Not that I should worry about something like that at a time like this.
“I’m sorry about your suit,” I said inanely. He probably had things to worry about too. Why was he even hanging around, didn’t he have somewhere to be? Baxter was in surgery now; any obligation he might have had was gone.
The stranger—Xander—waved my apology away. “It’s not an issue.”
Another thought occurred to me. “I screamed at you, didn’t I. Oh firetruck—I’m so sorry.”
His brow crinkled. “I’m sorry. English is not my first language. I think I misunderstood.”
“I screamed at you. I’m sorry.”
He waved the apology away, just like the last. “That, I understood. But did you say firetruck?”
Despite myself, despite the situation, I felt a self-conscious smile cross my features. “Oh, that. It’s nothing.”
His smile was warm. Inviting. “Please...”
I rolled my eyes. “Well I’m trying to give up swearing, and... it’s kind of embarrassing... but every time I want to swear, I say something that rhymes with the word instead.”
“There’s a swearword in English that rhymes with firetruck?”
I shook my head. “No. But there’s a word that starts with the same letter, and ends with uck, if that makes sense?”
His eyes screwed up, and then suddenly I could see him get it. He burst out laughing. “You Americans are so weird.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling cautiously. I knew what he was doing—distracting me—and I appreciated it. “Where are you from?” I asked.
“Alonia,” he said. Then “Central Europe,” at my blank expression.
“How would I say a swearword in your language?”
He thought for a moment. “It’s not polite to swear in front of a lady as beautiful as yourself.” He looked around, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “But seeing as none of my countrymen are here... you could say merde. We speak French in Alonia. And that would have the effect you wanted.”
“Merde.” I rolled the word around on my tongue, making him wince. “What does it mean?”
“Shall we just say it rhymes with...” he thought for a moment. “Shaving Kit?”
My head cocked to the side, until I realized he’d done the same as I had – taken the first part of the first word, and the last part of the last word. It was my turn to burst out laughing. “Oh. Gotcha.”
“You have a nice laugh, did you know that?”
I blushed. “And you’re a big fat liar. I know you’re only saying that to make me feel better.”
He shook his head. “I may be many things, but a liar is not one of them. Your laugh... it’s like the ringing of bells at Christmas. Your smile, the present under the tree.” His hand moved to brush my cheek. “And the love I see in those beautiful eyes for your dog—” he sighed. “Many humans aren’t as lucky.”
I didn’t know what to say. Had this tall, beautiful man who had cared for my dog so well, who had calmed me down as I started to fall apart, just given me a compliment? I think he had.
I opened my mouth, to say I-don’t-know-what, when the double doors opened once more. A nurse appeared, drying her hands on a towel.
“Kate Wilmont?”
I stood up immediately. “Is he okay?”
She nodded. “He’s asleep, but you can see him now, if you wish. We’ll still have to monitor him, but I think the most dangerous period has passed. He’s very lucky—no broken bones, just a couple of deep cuts. We’ll have to keep him here overnight, but would you like to see him before you go?”
I looked to Xander. He motioned me ahead with a smile, and I hurried eagerly in to see Baxter.
* * *
The poor little fellow looked so calm, fast asleep on the table. They’d done a good job cleaning him up, but a tuft of fur was missing on one shoulder where they’d stitched a wound, and a nurse still hovered nearby watching his vitals.
“We’ve given him something to help him sleep,” she explained. “He’s a brave little puppy, that’s for sure.”
I nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.”
“Nothing will, thanks to you. You got him here before the shock progressed too greatly. Minutes matter at a time like this—10 minutes later and it might have been a different story.”
I nodded appreciatively. “Thank you. For everything.”
She shrugged. “Thank the man with the fast car and the unlimited credit card, I say.”
The words hit a chord—I realized I hadn’t actually thanked Xander yet. It was only because of him that we’d gotten here so fast—that we’d saved Baxter’s life.
I made my way back into the corridor, wishing the staff a good night. Xander had taken charge of the situation, scooping Baxter into his arms and ordering me into the car. Pulling out his card to pay for the bills. Pushing back meetings, calming me as Baxter went under. A lessor man might have just left me at the door. Or worse, never stopped the car at all.
I found myself smiling. It was almost like the prince charming I’d been wishing for had actually appeared—Xander was handsome and sexy and charming and... had I said handsome yet? Very handsome, in a way that made my heart beat a funny little skip when I thought about us sitting together in the waiting room, my hand in his.
Maybe... maybe I should ask for his number.
I hesitated. It wasn’t like me to do something like that. And he was from another country—who even knew how long he was here for?
But he had said he liked my smile. And did it matter how long he stayed? All I was doing was taking a chance to find these things out, right? I grinned, letting my imagination race just briefly to a number of situations where he might see that smile again—or a more cheeky, sultry version of it. If things went a little further than coffee, I wouldn’t be complaining.
Should I? Could I? I paused before the double doors. My hand flicked to my hair, and then to my shirt, arranging the neckline just a little more to my advantage. I never did things like this! But I was going to do it anyway.
I took a deep breath and, smiling, pushed through the doors.
The smile faltered—the waiting room was empty.
Merde. He was gone.