Falling for the Village Vet

  “Oh, great, it’s Mr. Sunshine.” She said this under her breath, but when she peeked out from behind a clump of leaves, she could tell Chris had heard her.

  “You are aware that you’re late for your appointment, yes?”

  Susannah clenched her teeth. She was hanging like tinsel in the bush, but she knew she couldn’t be more than a minute or two late.

  “Technically, I am on the premises. And arrived perfectly on time.”

  “Yes, but the council tends to object when I castrate animals in the parking lot. Do you need help?”

  He helped extricate her and Hendrix from the bush, half tangling himself up with her at one point when Hendrix realized he’d been thwarted.

  She turned back to Chris. “Thank you.”

  “Training going well, then?”

  He was thoroughly ticking her off now. She narrowed her eyes at him, giving him her best steely glare, and he mirrored it right back.

  So annoying. He looks quite sexy now.

  “Well, there’s no point in taking up any more of your time, then, is there?” She gave him a final look up and down, as if to sear her dislike to his stupidly arrogant and rather hot body.

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading! I hope you loved spending time in Puddle Lake with its zany inhabitants!

  Big thanks go out to Harlequin. It’s one big family and I’m super proud to be a part of it.

  Special thanks for the Doberman advice goes to thriller queen Lisa Hall. Thank you for sharing your stories about your lovely dogs! I hope you like Hendrix as much as I do.

  Writing about a hospice was very special. I think we can all agree that cancer has affected most of us at some point, and highlighting the work of these amazing, caring professionals was very important to me. My own local hospice, Wakefield Hospice, has cared for many over the years, and funding is very limited. Taking part in a six-mile charity walk in 2020, I saw firsthand how dedicated and vital hospice workers are. I am in awe of the professionals I write about. If you are one and are reading this, thanks for what you do.

  Lastly, thanks go out, of course, to my friends and family. Love you more.

  Thank you so much, dear readers, for coming with me on this journey. I can’t wait for our next trip!

  Rachel Dove

  Falling for the Village Vet

  Rachel Dove

  Rachel Dove is a tutor and romance/rom-com author from West Yorkshire in the UK. She lives with her husband and two sons, and dreams of a life where housework is done by fairies and she can have as many pets as she wants. When she is not writing or reading, she can be found walking her American cocker spaniel, Oliver, in the great outdoors or dreaming of her next research trip away with the family.

  Books by Rachel Dove

  Harlequin Medical Romance

  Fighting for the Trauma Doc’s Heart

  The Paramedic’s Secret Son

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  I dedicate this book to Carly Byrne, my amazing editor. Thank you for believing in my writing from day one and pushing me to be a better writer. You are an inspiration!

  A special mention to Lisa Hall, thriller queen, for her Doberman insights.

  Praise for Rachel Dove

  “I found Rachel Dove’s interpretation broke that mold and I enjoyed the realistic way in which she painted the personalities. All in all, the well-crafted characters plus the engaging story had me emotionally invested from the start. Looking forward to reading more of Rachel’s work.”

  —Goodreads on Fighting for the Trauma Doc’s Heart

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EXCERPT FROM THE MIDWIFE’S NINE-MONTH MIRACLE BY SHELLEY RIVERS

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘I JUST DIDN’T know what to do, Doctor—he’s just not himself. He’s so listless, and he doesn’t eat like he used to.’

  Mrs Chan looked mournfully at her beloved other half, who looked back at her glassy-eyed and defeated. This was the hardest part of the job. It took a lot of compassion, a lot of heart, and tact. These were all things, unfortunately, of which this particular doctor was in short supply at the moment. He found himself feeling nothing but irritation towards Mrs Chan; he brushed the feeling aside as best he could most days but he could still feel it there. Bubbling under the surface. He had thought that moving to a brand-new place would have lifted his mood a lot more than it had. He just felt angry and sad in a new place instead. Sure, Puddle Lake was a very pretty village, but he still felt the same as he did in the city. Angry, frustrated. He tried to smile at Mrs Chan, but it came out more like a toothless grimace.

  ‘The problem, Mrs Chan, is that Gustav here is rather...well, he’s rather fat, isn’t he?’ Mrs Chan’s jaw dropped, but he had started talking now and he needed to get his point across. ‘Now, I don’t want you to misunderstand me, Mrs Chan. I know you love your cat. Unfortunately, he loves his food too, but a cat is incapable of saying no. He doesn’t get onto the scales in the morning and worry about his waistline. If the food is there he will eat it. If he goes round to the neighbours and begs for food, he will eat that too. This is what cats do.’

  Mrs Chan was looking decidedly miffed still, but her expression had softened.

  ‘It’s a common misconception that the giving of treats to pets is love. Sadly, often this is not the case. Dogs, cats, lots of animals need a balanced diet and it is the job of the owner to provide it. What I’m saying, Mrs Chan, is that he needs to stay on his diet food and nothing else. That’s the way to show him love. He’s an active cat but he’s miserable because he can’t move. He wants to lick himself and be able to reach all the parts that he could reach before and no longer can.’ Gustav looked at the vet and meowed mournfully.

  It’s okay, buddy, Chris thought. I’ve got your back. Just lay off the treats. Buy a little kitty treadmill.

  ‘So, what are you saying, Dr Jennings?’

  ‘Basically, if you love little Gustav here any more with those treats of yours, then he’s likely to run through his nine lives a lot quicker.’

  Mrs Chan’s incensed look told him that he’d gone too far, but in truth he would have gone further to stop the woman from feeding the poor feline to death. He did care about the patients he had, even if he was indifferent to everything else.

  ‘I think we might need to speak to Dr Ingham, instead.’ She looked him up and down, and her expression told him in no uncertain times that his curt words had fallen on deaf ears. ‘Does Cheryl have his number?’

  Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The second week on the job, and all but one of his patients had asked the same question. He suddenly missed his old practice, the rapport he’d built up with the families of the animals he’d spent years caring for. It was a different world there, familiar and comfortable. He didn’t have time for this, with his full clinic. He sighed inwardly, focusing back onto Mrs Chan’s disapproving face.

  ‘I am sure that Dr Ingham would agree with my diagnosis, given that he was the one to put Gustav on the diet food, but you are of course free to get a second opinion. I am afraid, however...’ He wasn’t at all, but he had to at least try to keep up the thin veneer of being polite. Somewhat misunderstood even. ‘Dr Ingham is on vacation at the moment, and
he’s not taking calls. Cheryl is of course taking messages, for when he’s back.’ Dr Ezekiel Ingham, the man who had offered Chris the practice here, was probably three sheets to the wind on the cruise ship with his family right now and wouldn’t give a fig about Mrs Chan or Gustav.

  Maybe I should have done that, he thought to himself grumpily. Sold up and just travelled, instead of...well, this. ‘I’ll see you and Gustav out, Mrs Chan. You can settle your bill in Reception.’

  Gustav was already sitting back in his little carrier, throwing Chris a scowl that matched his owner’s. Mrs Chan huffed, picking up her rather portly cat and giving the vet her dirtiest final look, and left the room. Poor Cheryl. He could already hear Mrs Chan moaning about his bedside manner, and his new receptionist giving out the usual apologetic patter that she had taken to since he arrived. It was all he’d heard. He felt a little guilty, but he couldn’t help his moods. He wasn’t interested in being a polite functioning human. He was always there for his patients. Work was always something he excelled at. Now that it was his only focus, it had only honed his skills further. At the moment, he got dressed of a morning, fed himself, paid his bills and showed up to the new practice. That was enough for now, surely?

  The front door to the surgery slamming shut gave him an inkling that perhaps it wasn’t. Sighing heavily, he washed his hands in the sink and started to prepare for the next client. He was just reaching for the door handle to call the next patient when it was barged open by a rather dirty and eager-looking snout. The dog, looking as if he had bathed in mud, bounded into the room, his lead flying in the air as the mad Doberman dashed around the room. It took all of five seconds before the dog caught the scent of where he was, and he tried to bound right back out of the door. The lead thwacked Chris in the leg as he passed, and, in the waiting area, he could hear a woman’s panicked shouting.

  ‘Hendrix, you daft dog! Calm down!’ The woman entered the room, blocking off the exit to the dog with a well-placed knee. Hendrix was overjoyed to see the woman, whoever she was, and Chris was still rubbing at his trousered leg, where a nice red welt was now showing on his ankle from the whipping of the metal dog lead. ‘Sorry, I’m so sorry, he’s a bit...well...bouncy.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Chris grabbed at the lead and the big brown hound came to a stop at his feet. ‘Hendrix, eh?’

  ‘Yeah.’ The woman, red-faced from wrestling with the dog, beamed at him. ‘He’s terrible at guitar though—all paws.’

  She was standing there, grinning at him again while Hendrix wasted no time in saying hello by sniffing him closely, right in the crotch area. Chris gently pushed the dog’s nose away and moved behind the surgery table. He was keen to keep his distance from the eager hound. Looking at the woman before him, who was dressed in every colour of the rainbow and still beaming like an idiot, he moved a little bit quicker. Hendrix’s eyes followed him, but he didn’t move from his owner’s feet.

  ‘So, what seems to be the issue with Hendrix today?’

  ‘Oh, just the usual. He needs his jabs and worming, of course; the shelter checked for a microchip but nothing came up. He’s probably an ill-thought-out Christmas present. These dogs get so big... I don’t think people realise.’ She patted Hendrix on the head, and he looked up at her with a goofy. adoring look on his face.

  ‘So, you’re adopting him?’

  The woman laughed. ‘Sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced properly. I’m Susannah Harkin. I work with the local shelters. I lost my Labrador a few years ago, and I couldn’t quite wrap my heart around getting another dog. I went to look round the shelter one tragically sad afternoon...’ Her voice cracked, and the rest of her words didn’t leave her mouth. They seemed to hang there, in the air, and Chris found himself wondering what they would have been. ‘Anyway...’ She seemed to shake herself mentally, and the smile was back. Chris almost squinted as he felt the brightness invade the room. ‘Here I am. I foster some of the dogs that are a bit too much for kennels, work on a bit of house training, get them ready for their for-ever home.’

  ‘Is there such a thing these days?’

  ‘Such a thing as what?’

  ‘A for-ever home,’ Chris retorted. ‘Our throwaway society seems to feel different.’

  The woman looked a little thoughtful. A second or two later, she bent to stroke behind Hendrix’s ears and eyed the vet over Hendrix’s head.

  ‘Maybe, but you don’t throw the baby out with the bath water. Not in Puddle Lake anyway. People do care. The way I see it, if I can help a few dogs get a better deal, then it’s more than worth it. Bit of company around the house too.’

  Chris found himself nodding despite himself. She did have a point—just thinking about going home chilled his blood. It was too quiet, devoid of life. He found himself sitting at home waiting for work to start, but then work started and his mood didn’t improve.

  ‘So, Hendrix here just needs the usual MOT. A bit of training, a good groom and he should be good to go.’

  Hendrix looked up at Chris, a comical expression of horror on his features as though he could understand everything the pair of them were saying. Typical dog—they all loved the vets until they had some kind of treatment, and then the pooch soon wised up for the subsequent visits. Hendrix was looking at the door and Chris followed his gaze. Susannah was still staring at him when he realised he hadn’t spoken for a full minute. In all honesty, he was with the dog. He wanted out of this room, right now. He snapped back into vet mode and pushed his own muddled thoughts aside. He was becoming a pro at it too.

  ‘Okay, well, let’s get him up on the table and see what’s what.’

  The scared Doberman, as though he had understood every word, suddenly pulled up on the lead Susannah was holding, her face registering the movement just a second too late. Hendrix, now fully aware of the impending doom that was coming his way, threw his whole body weight against the door, letting out a pitiful howl in the direction of the vet’s waiting area.

  ‘Woof—woof!’ Hendrix was pulling at the lead with everything he had, trying to dig through the wood of the thick surgery room door with his overgrown claws. ‘Woof! Woof! Woof!’

  ‘Hendrix! Come...on...!’ Susannah, knocked off balance by the terrified hound, ended up on the floor, partly beneath the dog, partly wrapped in his lead. She looked like a rainbow, her coloured clothing spreading out around her and Hendrix’s brown chicken legs hopping all around her as the dog made a valiant but ultimately futile bid for freedom. ‘Hendrix, please! Cut me a break. I told you this was coming. We had a deal, buddy! I bought you a pup cup in good faith, damn you!’

  The dog paused for a moment, looking Susannah in the eye and giving her a long lick up her cheek before returning to his frantic scrabbling and high-pitched whines of frustration and fear. Chris looked at the bright and scattered woman flailing on the floor, and at the dog, and sighed.

  ‘Hendrix, stop.’ He didn’t shout it, but his deep controlled voice stopped both Hendrix and the woman beneath him in their tracks. The dog looked at him and slowly turned away from the door, standing on Susannah in the process; he then sat quietly at Chris’s feet. ‘Good boy.’ He patted the dog once on the head, and then, looking at his surrogate owner sitting on the floor agog, Chris held out his other hand. She eyed it warily for a long moment, Hendrix seemingly in awe of the vet now and obediently waiting for the next instruction. She wiped her now muddy hand on her clothing and slowly put her hand in his. Her hand felt warm, and surprisingly soft to the touch. His jaw dropped a little, the shock of the contact enveloping his body. He hadn’t held a woman’s hand in what seemed like a lifetime. He slowly pulled her to her feet, his other hand reaching for hers as she come to a stop right in front of him.

  She’s quite pretty. Beautiful green eyes, with that red hair. Sea glass and fire.

  She slowly pulled her hands from his.

  ‘Thanks. Sorry about him too.’

&
nbsp; He grabbed his stethoscope from his desk and came to kneel by the startled hound.

  ‘Not to worry. I think we’ve come to somewhat of an agreement. Hendrix, let’s get this over with.’

  * * *

  Dr Jennings inspected Hendrix, noting things down on his computer screen as he went. Susannah watched him work his magic on the bedraggled canine, who was now allowing the vet to investigate his undercarriage without trying to rip his arm off.

  ‘So, you’re the new vet, then? Not some weirdo masquerading under his name?” He sounded nothing like the outgoing vet had described.

  ‘Stating the obvious, since I currently have a thermometer in an awkward place.’

  Hendrix’s face was a picture, but Dr Jennings looked as if he were sucking on a lemon. Susannah pressed on undeterred.

  ‘Settling in okay, then? Must be different for you, from a big-city mega vet to this little corner of the world.’

  ‘It was hardly a mega-vet. We only had six partners in total.’

  ‘Well, our whole village has one. Trust me, to us that’s a mega-vet. When we got Starbucks on the motorway exit everyone went nuts for weeks. We only had the tea shop in town before then. There was even a petition to get it closed down, but thankfully the caffeine seemed to fend off any real feuds. So, you liking it?’

  ‘I’ve been a vet for a while now,’ he rebuffed, his face stony. ‘Hendrix is fine, and his jabs are now up to date.’

  ‘I know that.’ She ignored his attempt to shut the conversation down. ‘I meant living and working here.’

  What was this guy’s problem? She was only trying to be nice. It was like trying to talk to the dogs at home. Hendrix had a better line in conversation than this sour-faced man. He was rather cute though, she noticed as he got to his feet and went back to his computer. He was tall, dark-haired, and would be handsome if he didn’t scowl all the time. Dr Ingham had made a strange choice for his practice. Ezekiel Ingham was like Santa Claus compared to the tightly clenched man before her. She knew Ezekiel had been looking for a while, and the last time she’d been in to talk to him about her dream of an adoption drive, he’d been excited for his successor to arrive in order to give him some much-needed time off. He’d been a stalwart of the local community for years, but now his children were all flying the nest and raising chicks of their own, he was looking to slow down. From the way he’d spoken to her about Dr Jennings, it had seemed as if he was going to be a perfect fit. Now, as she watched him tut at the screen, banging at a couple of keys a little too hard, she couldn’t really see what Ezekiel had been thinking.