Chapter 11

Veterinarian Clinic

Wednesday 4:00 p.m.

“I’m done for the day, right?” Emma asked, sticking her phone back in her pocket.

“Yes, all done.” Sadie confirmed. “Why? Who was that, and what are you getting ready for?”

“That was Killian,” Emma offered nonchalantly. “He needs me for a rescue mission.”

“Oh!” A suggestive smile crossed Sadie’s face. “Rescue what … or should I ask whom? Him perhaps?”

“I’m guessing an animal of some sort. I’d better get my supplies.”

Emma didn’t wait for further prodding on the subject but went into the back room and double checked her home visits’ backpack. Once it was stocked and ready, she laid out a few cages of assorted sizes.

With nothing else to occupy her time, Killian’s words floated through her head.

You busy, Doc?

She didn’t want to admit how just hearing his voice had caused her heart to race.

I need you.

Nor did she want to admit she’d been disappointed when he hadn’t asked her out on a date.

But she was willing to admit hearing his voice had made her happy. That was evident by the way her green eyes sparkled when she looked in a mirror.

“Not bad,” she murmured. Except a quick glance at her scrubs covered in who knew what fluids sent her rushing up to her apartment for clean clothes.

“Well, well.” Sadie slowly made a 360-degree inspection of her clothing. “Dressed up to,” she made air quotes, “rescue animals, didn’t you?”

“I, I just …” Emma cleared her throat and tried again. “These old things?” she tossed out in what she hoped was a blasé manner. “My scrubs were dirty, and it’s … uhh. … cold outside.”

Sadie hummed, but the sparkle in her eyes said, ‘I don’t believe a word you’re saying.’”

“Really,” Emma insisted. “Besides, why would I care how I looked?”

A car door slamming outside captured her attention. Yum, was the first word that popped into her brain when she saw Killian step from the large, black truck. His swagger as he walked toward her building was just so … sexy. It projected both gracefulness and confidence and took her breath.

“See, Emma,” Sadie whispered in her ear, “hot, hunky, gorgeous, works just fine.”

“Shh.”

The door opened, bringing with it a blast of cold air. Killian stepped in and with his black hair blown around his head, Emma had to squeeze her hands into fists to keep from reaching up to fix it. “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

“Emma.” He tugged at his right ear, causing her heart to flip. “Ready to go?”

“What are we rescuing, anyway?” she asked, tearing her eyes away lest she be caught staring.

“Kittens. Gray found them and they won’t let him near them.”

“Kittens?” Emma’s brows rose. “Why didn’t he call here?”

Killian shrugged. “I’m law enforcement and supposed to protect the community?”

“From kittens?”

Her eyes cut to the leggy brunette who, since learning about the New Year’s Eve dance, had been making suggestive comments.

“What?” Sadie looked up from her computer, pretending as if she hadn’t been listening.

“Did you know about the kittens that needed rescuing?”

“No,” Sadie quickly denied, “no, I don’t know anything. But … if there are stray kittens needing your help, shouldn’t you go?”

Emma studied Killian for several seconds, feeling as if she was missing something. But unable to read his expression, she mentally stepped back a couple of steps.

Control, Emma.

“Shall we go?” She picked up her backpack and pointed to the cages, leaving Killian to follow.

He held her arm as she stepped up on the truck runner and slid onto the cold seat. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

The combination of his smooth baritone and British lilt sent a little thrill rushing along her skin.

Control, Emma, she reminded herself as they bypassed the road leading to the Peter Pan Park and turned in the opposite direction from town. “Where are we going again?”

“An abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of town,” Killian shared. “Gray’s business is thinking about buying the property.”

“Any idea who the house belonged to?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I’ve only lived in Swan Harbor since last February. I’ll have to ask Dylan.”

“What brought you to Swan Harbor?”

The minute the question was out of her mouth, Emma wished she could pull it back.

His jaw had tightened, making her feel a little like she’d stepped over some invisible line.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly retracted her question. “That sounded nosy.”

“It’s alright.”

He sent her a quick smile, but Emma couldn’t help but notice it wasn’t as relaxed as it had been.

For the next few miles, both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t until pulled into a long drive, that he turned in her direction. “Ready?”

Their eyes clashed in the low light of the truck and several thoughts flew through her mind. Should she apologize again? But she’d done that once, and instead murmured, “I’m ready.”

He jumped from the truck and was half-way around the cab before Emma went to work trying to undo her seatbelt. But for some reason, her cold fingers couldn’t get it to release.

“Need some help?” Killian asked when he opened her door.

“Did you know this belt sticks?” She accused him, the laughter in her voice in contradiction to her words.

“Who, me?” Killian’s eyes twinkled. He stepped up on the runner, braced his left hand on the outside of the seat, and reached around her with his right. “It just requires a little … finesse!” he purred, his face mere inches from hers.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The air from the sound wafted over her lips, causing her to slide the tip of her tongue across it. Killian’s eyes flared, bringing her attention to a bead of sweat on his upper lip.

If you lean forward just a hair, you could lick it off.

His breath hitched, his eyes dropped to her mouth and a ruddy hue dotted his cheekbones.

Emma tightened her muscles to keep from leaning forward. “It’s really stuck, isn’t it?” she forced out, hoping to lessen the tension.

“Aye,” he barely got out before there was a click and the seatbelt loosened, “sorry about that, Doc.”

He stepped down, and slowly Emma allowed herself to relax. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

She took his as she stepped from the truck and had to remind herself, once again, control. But he wasn’t making that easy.

Old Farmhouse, Wednesday 4:30 p.m.

Killian slung Emma’s backpack over his shoulder and followed her away from the truck. His hand still tingled from holding hers, and he was having a difficult time forgetting the way her breath had hitched when he was undoing her seatbelt. And when she’d licked her full bottom lip, bloody hell, he’d wanted a taste.

Friends.

But just because the word was running around inside his head didn’t mean the need to remind himself what he wanted wasn’t there. Different. He wanted them to be different.

Her question about his move to Swan Harbor was also on replay. Was he prepared to share a bit of his past with her?

“Did Gray bring others with him?” Emma asked, as they followed several sets of tire tracks. “It looks like there’s more than one set of footprints.”

Killian glanced around as they walked through the snow and stepped in and out of tire tracks and footsteps. But while it appeared there were more than one set, he couldn’t say how many more.

“He didn’t say.” Killian admitted, as they climbed the steps up onto the wrap-around porch. “Just that the kittens were inside, and the house was empty.”

“Okay.” Emma frowned, already looking into the windows. “I’d really like to know how a stray cat ended up giving birth way out here.”

So did he, but since it allowed him to spend time with Emma, he wasn’t complaining too loudly.

“There they are.”

“Why are you whispering?” he mimicked.

“Because I don’t want to scare them.” Her eyes sparkled up at him.

“Oh,” he nodded as if what she was saying made perfect sense. “I see.”

Emma grinned, “They’re wild and aren’t used to people. If we’re lucky enough to catch them, it’s going to take some work.”

Killian had to bite his tongue to keep from issuing a challenge but decided to wait until they were inside and then show her, he wasn’t completely useless.

“I see four, at least.” Emma moved to another window. “I’m not sure where the mama is, though. Do we know how Gray got inside?”

Killian shook his head, “No, he didn’t say.”

“Okay. I’ll take my backpack and you can go get me the bigger cage.”

“You’ll be alright while I’m gone?” he asked, wishing he’d not left the cages in the truck.

“I’ll be fine,” Emma assured him. “Don’t worry.”

There were so many things he wanted to say … and do, but in the end, he gave a small nod and left to get the cage. However, telling him not to worry about her was as impossible as telling him not to breathe.

Old Farmhouse, Wednesday 4:40 p.m.

As soon as Killian hopped off the porch, Emma went to work on getting into the house. It had a lonely feel, as if once upon a time a family had lived there, but something had torn them apart. “Except for a family of Felis catus.”

She’d tried several doors, but since they were locked, she was working on the windows. Her luck kicked in on her fifth try when a window opened, as if someone else had done so recently.

Did Gray enter here?

Emma dropped her bag inside and climbed through, sliding the window shut behind her. The lonely feeling that had surrounded her outside gave way to something on the inside she couldn’t put her finger on. It was unsettling and for the first time since he’d disappeared, she wished Killian would hurry back. But shoving the uneasiness away, she focused on why they were there … the kittens.

The room she was standing in had once been vibrant and colorful but was now old and faded. And even though there were several pieces of furniture left behind, the cushions were covered with layers of dust and the once beautiful wood floors full of scratches and debris.

An unpleasant odor permeated the air, made up of a mixture of equal parts dust and decay. And it mingled with the unmistakable smell of feces and urine. However, it wasn’t as cold inside the house as she’d expected, which explained how the kittens had survived. But where was the mama?

There were several doors leading to various other rooms and curiosity had her following one, which led into a kitchen. The refrigerator was empty, but several bags of cat food were stacked in the corner; one of them open and spilling out onto the floor. She decided Gray must have left them and reversed her position, moving back the way she’d come.

Another door led into a large bathroom, empty except for the steady drip of water from both the bathtub and sink. Why would the water still be turned on and not frozen? Had that been something Gray had done also?

A quick perusal of the other doors revealed a small sitting room, and another door led to a blocked off hallway. Since the kittens were confined to three rooms, she hoped it would be much easier to catch them, even if they didn’t want to be caught.

Killian’s knocking on a window had her going back to the main room to open it.

“What’s that smell?” He grimaced, handing her the cage.

“You’re a cop,” she teased, “and you’re complaining about a little kitten poop. I’m sure you’ve been around worse.”

A look crossed his face that was gone before she could decipher it. “Did you find them?” he asked, turning away from her.

Interesting, she thought, filing the change of subject away for later and moving to where she’d left her backpack. “Here, you’ll want these.” She pulled out a pair of gloves.

Killian frowned, “Why would I need gloves to catch a couple tiny kittens?”

“Because they have claws,” Emma tried to explain. “Think needles, really sharp needles.”

“I don’t need them.”

She raised a brow, questioning his decision, but his smirk had her shrugging. “I guess it’s your skin.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Emma thought about making a wager but decided against it. “Why don’t you take that room through there,” she pointed toward the smaller room, “and I’ll take this one.”

“You’ll be alright alone?”

“I’ll be fine.” Emma parroted his words. “Yell if you need me.”

Once she was alone, Emma searched for the mysterious kittens. She found two, huddled together under a chair, pressed as tightly to the wall as they could get.

“Ah, poor babies,” she crooned softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

She stretched her arm out and released a piece of string, slowly pulling it toward her. The kittens watched it move until the temptation was too great and one kitten moved closer.

When she tugged on the string, the kitten would follow. And with each movement, she was a closer to catching it. As soon as a head appeared from under the furniture, Emma transferred the string to her left hand. She planned to grab the kitten with her right. But just as her hand inched close—

Killian yelled, “Bloody hell!” from the other room. “Get back here, you little bugger.”

The sound of his voice sent the scared animal back under the chair. Emma wanted to bang her head against the floor in frustration, and sat back on her haunches, “Do you need some help, Killian?”

His prolific use of colorful language made her want to giggle, but that probably wouldn’t help matters any.

“I’ve got it.” he replied.

“Sure, you do,” Emma mumbled, checking on the kittens, only to discover they had darted from their hiding place to a new one. “Damn!”

It took rethinking her strategy before she was able to find and capture the two little buggers as Killian had called them. The third one proved to be a bit more challenging and by the time she caught him, and hadn’t heard any more from Killian, her curiosity got the best of her.

When Emma stepped into the hallway, she could hear his voice speaking to someone. Even more interested in what he was doing, she peeked around the door. Killian was on his knees with his butt in the air, looking underneath a sofa and apparently talking to a kitten. He’s never going to get that baby to come to him, but instead of taking over, she opted to give him a few more minutes.

“Come on out, love,” Killian crooned. “There’s a pretty lass.”

Emma had to bite her lip to keep quiet. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry watching him use his sweet talk on a tiny, helpless kitten.

“That’s a good lass.” he continued gently. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The words became inconsequential as he spoke to the scared animal, but the longer he went on the faster Emma’s heart raced.

“I’m right here, pretty baby. Come to Killian,” he coaxed, in that smooth way of his.

Emma had decided she was going to give him a few more seconds when she heard, “I’ve got you,” and he stood, cradling a tiny grey kitten in the palm of his hand.

The look on his face as he gazed at the animal caused Emma’s heart to flip several times.

Stop that. He’s just a man!

“Look at the little lass, Doc. Isn’t she pretty?”

“You sound awfully sure it’s a girl,” she teased, hoping playful banter would lessen the size of the lump in her throat.

A chagrined look crossed his face. “I just assumed.” He held the furry baby out to her. “Will you check?”

Emma grinned. “You trust me to hold your little love?” she asked playfully. “Come on, let’s put her with her siblings.”

On the way to the other room, Emma peeked under the animal’s tail. “It’s a girl,” she confirmed, placing the kitten with the others.

Old Farmhouse, Wednesday 5:00 p.m.

Killian preened at her response but sobered when he realized he was bleeding. “Have a bandage in that bag?”

“Hold on,” Emma murmured. “Let me get these in the cage to keep the kittens warm.”

He unwrapped the bloody cloth from around his hand, to see a jagged cut across the fleshy skin at the base of his thumb.

“What happened?” Emma materialized at his side with a first aid bag.

“Just a misunderstanding between myself and the wee lass.”

“Killian,” Emma took hold of his hand, her touch sending a live current zipping along his skin. “That’s not little. Follow me.”

Anytime.

She pushed his hand over a sink and as soon as the liquid she was pouring touched the cut, he hissed.

“Quit being a baby.” Emma grinned at him. “It’s just hydrogen peroxide.”

“You were right,” he admitted softly, “her claws were like needles.”

“Told you so.”

Her smell so tantalized his nose, he had to fight not to bury his face against her neck. With her holding his hand, his senses were heightened and every time she brushed against him, his body hardened a little more. Down boy, he warned. Friends, remember.

“There. Good as new.” She taped the end of the gauze and place the trash in a Ziplock bag.

“They aren’t very noisy, are they?” he noted, seeing that even though the kitten’s mouths were opening and closing, nothing was coming out.

“No, they’re …”

A loud crash had Killian tucking her behind him and drawing his gun at the same time.

“What’s through that door?” he growled.

“Kitchen.”

“Stay here!” he demanded taking several steps toward the other room, stopping abruptly when he realized Emma’s hands were tangled in the back of his jacket. “That’s not staying here.”

“The one who stays behind is always the one killed.”

Killian sighed but continued toward the kitchen and peered around the door frame. When there was no obvious problem, he stepped into the room, only to be greeted by a cat, meowing vociferously. “Well, who do we have here?”

“I would guess this is mama cat. But why is she just now showing up?”

“I don’t know.” He gazed down at the cat who was winding around his feet. “What’s the problem, Little Mama?”

The cat looked up and blinked her green eyes at them. A shiver worked its way up his spine when she turned and walked toward one of the cabinets. She stopped, looked over her shoulder and meowed again.

“I think she wants us to follow her.”

Mama Cat stopped in front of a lower cabinet and pawed at it several times. When Killian gave a forceful tug and pulled it open, the mother ran inside. It wasn’t long before she returned carrying a kitten and dropped it at his feet.

Killian sent Emma a panicked look, “Is it …?” He couldn’t believe how afraid he felt waiting for her answer.

Emma picked up the baby, “No, it’s alive, but barely. We need to get it back to the clinic. Here, can you put it with the others?”

Killian took the small ball of fur from Emma, its weight so slight he could have been holding a piece of paper.

“We need to hurry, Killian,” Emma rushed toward him holding the Mama. “She’s sick too.”

“Let’s go.”

Killian grabbed the cage, and after Emma picked up her bag, led the way to the truck. There was no way the mama was going to lose one of her babies on his watch.

Veterinarian Clinic, Wednesday 9:00 p.m.

Hours later, Emma was settled in a corner of the sofa contemplating her day with Killian. Their time together had been … comfortable, yet uncomfortable at the same time. Conversation had flowed, but there was an awareness simmering just under the surface, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. And watching his behavior with the kittens had caused her to feel. That was what left her confused and floundering and needing clarification.

She took a sip of her hot drink and pulled out her phone, discovering an unread text,

Killian: Call me as soon as you can.

It was late, and she wanted to talk to Elsa, but something had her dialing his number.

“Emma?” The background noise blared in her ear. “I’m sorry,” he apologized as it suddenly quietened, “that’s better.”

“Having a wild party, Killian?”

His low laugh sent a tiny shiver up her spine. “Nothing like that. Just sharing a few drinks with friends.”

Friends?

What felt suspiciously like jealousy coursed through her system. “I was just calling you back,” she responded self-consciously, “but if it’s not important then …”

Killian chuckled, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Damn him!

She swallowed the words on the tip of her tongue, determined to maintain control.

“What you have to say is important to me. The boys can wait,” he assured her. “How’s the family?”

His comment he was with the boys, had her whole-body relaxing, “The family?”

“Aye, Doctor Foster,” he confirmed. The little buggers we rescued today.”

Emma reminded herself to get with the program, “The mother and baby are resting peacefully, but it was touch and go there for a while.”

“I’m glad you could save them, Doc. Does she have a name yet?”

“That will happen after they’re adopted.”

“Oh, I see.”

He sounded upset by the prospect, but did he think she kept every animal she rescued?

“So,” she began hesitantly, “did you need something specific?”

“I just,” he cleared his throat, “I just wanted to check on the family. And tell you the bags of food from the farmhouse are in your front room.”

“Thanks. Was Gray the one who left them?”

“No,” Killian admitted. “Where those bags of food came from is a big mystery.”

“Weird.”

He hummed in agreement. “Will you keep me informed about the family?”

“I promise. And,” she took a leap, “I’m glad you asked for my help.”

“Just sharing my burden,” he confessed, reminding her of their conversation several days before.

His admission had Emma working to keep the giddiness from her voice, “Thanks for calling, Killian. Goodnight.”

“Night, Doc. Sweet dreams,” he purred.

Emma clutched the phone to her chest, her heart racing. She was in big trouble. “The list. The list,” she mumbled repeatedly.

Emma: Help!

Emma pounced, the second her phone rang.