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But she
could
go get Nigel and spend the rest of the evening working at home with him on her lap. Maybe bring home some barbeque for dinner and just wait until she was exhausted enough to fall asleep regardless of how much her brain wanted to spin. “That actually sounds like a good idea. Tell Jane I said thanks, and y’all call me if you need anything.”

“Will do. Enjoy your evening. I’m glad Nigel’s okay.”

“You and me both. See you tomorrow.”

Her next call was to the clinic. “Hi, Jenny. It’s Molly Richards. I hear I can come get Nigel?”

“You can. He aced all of his tests. He wasn’t happy about taking them . . .”

“He’s a grumpy one, I know. I hope no one got shredded in the process.”

“Don’t worry. We know how to handle a grumpy kitty.” She laughed. “He’s ready to go whenever you get here.”

“I’m on my way now.” She went to the bedroom and got the hoodie Tate had loaned her weeks ago. She’d had ample opportunity to return it before now, but it had simply slipped her mind. But considering her current state of confusion regarding Tate, she was going to need to keep a distance from him in the near future—at least until she got her head sorted out—and returning that hoodie now seemed to be a step toward creating that distance.

Limiting contact was the wisest choice. At least for now.

She probably wouldn’t even have to see him today since she was just picking Nigel up, and she could leave the hoodie with Jenny at the desk, drawing a line in the sand—at least maybe for her subconscious.

While the nights might still feel springish, the days were warming up nicely, inching into the mid-eighties with bright blue skies and lots of sunshine. Just being in that sunshine helped improve Molly’s mind and attitude, even making her feel a bit more energetic.

Tate’s clinic was on the far north side of Magnolia Beach—which in reality wasn’t all
that
far—but it wasn’t a walk Molly wanted to make while carrying Nigel in his carrier, either. So while it was exactly the kind of beautiful day that begged for a walk, she drove. Maybe later she could go down to the Shore for a little while. Or she could go for a long, exhausting run to burn off some frustration and maybe tire her enough to actually sleep.

The waiting room was emptier than usual, with only one sweet-looking mutt panting happily at the end of
its leash. The lady at the other end of that leash smiled at Molly.

Half-caf soy vanilla latte, extra sweet.
She couldn’t remember the woman’s name, though, so she just smiled in return and went straight to the counter.

Jenny already had Nigel’s paperwork ready to go, and she called someone in the back to get Nigel ready. “Since he doesn’t like his carrier, I didn’t want to get him loaded until you got here.”

“That’s sweet, but Nigel can deal.” She handed over a credit card for Jenny to run and glanced over the bill. Not as bad as she’d braced herself for, but maybe it was a good thing Nigel liked the cheap cat food better. But the fact it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared had her examining the charges carefully.

Nothing was listed for Tate’s house call.

“Are you sure this is correct?” she asked.

Jenny came over to check the bill. “I entered it all myself, straight off Nigel’s chart.” She dropped her voice. “If it’s a problem, you know we can set you up a payment plan.”

“No, that’s not it. I was actually expecting to pay more.”

“Well, it’s a happy surprise, then.” Jenny handed her the receipt to sign. “Tate wants to talk to you for a second before you leave. We’ll bring Nigel back to you in his office.”

Molly nodded. She needed to talk to Tate now, that was for sure. Jenny pointed her down the hall, where Molly could see Tate sitting behind a desk.

“You look exhausted,” Tate said in way of greeting. “Have you not slept?”

“A catnap or two. I’ve been worried about Nigel.”

“All of his tests came back negative. Liver, pancreas—I tested for all the usual causes of hypoglycemia and found nothing. So that’s good.”

“So it was the food.”

“Since it’s never happened before, yes, it’s probably the food. And while I could attempt to isolate exactly what caused the reaction, why don’t you just stick with the food you know he likes and don’t give him that new brand again. And if you do decide to try new foods in the future, watch for vomiting and bring him in immediately if he starts, so we can monitor him.” He smirked. “I suggest you only introduce new foods in the mornings if you want a good night’s sleep.”

She nodded. “Now, speaking of a good night’s sleep . . .” She paused as a tech came in carrying Nigel’s carrier. She could hear Nigel growling in displeasure, so she stuck her fingers through the gate and stroked him.

Once the tech left, Tate prompted her. “What about sleep?”

“I didn’t see a charge for your house call.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But I do. You gave up your night to come take care of my cat.”

He shrugged as his ears turned slightly pink. “That’s what friends do.”

“I would never take advantage of my friends like that.”

“I don’t want to charge you for it.” When she started to protest, he held up a hand. “I don’t even know how to charge you for it.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t normally do house calls, and when I have to, it’s through the emergency vet service, and they do that billing.”

Somehow she didn’t quite believe that was the truth, but it was rude to call someone a liar to his face. “Well, you have to let me pay you something.”

Tate thought it over. “Fine.”

Molly reached into her purse, but Tate stopped her by lifting a hand. “You can buy me a late lunch.” Looking at the clock, he corrected himself. “Or an early dinner.”

“What?”

“I’m
starving
. I took a nap today instead of eating lunch when I normally would. Jenny managed to reschedule the rest of my afternoon appointments, so I’m free once I finish with Peaches and Julia.”

Julia—that’s her name.
That tidbit processed faster than Tate’s request for lunch—probably because Tate’s request was so completely unexpected that her brain wasn’t fully recognizing it.

“So,” he continued, “all I want to do now is take a shower and get something to eat. And yes, I could just grab something on the way home, but I eat alone more often than not and would appreciate the company—if for no other reason than it will keep me from falling asleep in my dinner.”

He had that sweet, self-deprecating smile on his face again. Molly was charmed, even if she really didn’t want to be, and it made the request impossible to ignore because it was so simple. After all, she ate alone a lot, too, and she hated it.

“It’s the curse of being single, isn’t it? Eating alone, I mean.”

Tate nodded.

She was responsible for the fact Tate had been up half the night and had to skip lunch so he could sleep. She owed him a lot more than a meal.

And since she’d just insisted that he charge her for the house call, she couldn’t refuse to pay what he asked—especially since it was so reasonable, both in monetary cost and human courtesy.

Good Lord, she’d just talked herself into it, all common sense be damned.

“I’ve got to take Nigel home and get him settled, and you said you wanted a shower. Do you want to go somewhere or should I bring something to your place?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “Kind of like a food house call.”

He nodded. “That actually sounds great.”

“Gary’s Barbeque okay?”

“Yes, very much.”

“How long do you need to finish up here and shower and such?”

“Forty-five minutes, give or take?”

“Great. I’ll see you then.” She grabbed the handle of Nigel’s carrier and left before she could weasel her way back out of it.

As she put Nigel in the car and fastened the seat belt around his carrier, she noticed Tate’s hoodie on the floor.

So much for that limiting-contact idea.

Chapter 9

T
wo and a half hours later, she was seated at Tate’s kitchen table licking rib sauce off her fingers. She’d given up trying to be dainty or even remotely ladylike one rib in, and now she was just trying to keep the majority of the sauce off her face and shirt.

Tate’s house was a mirror image of Mrs. Kennedy’s—one of the three floor plans the developers offered after Hurricane Betsy destroyed much of Magnolia Beach in the 1960s. But where Mrs. Kennedy’s house was firmly dated and decorated in that same decade, Tate’s house had been completely rehabbed and redone in earthy tones and clean lines. It suited him—it was comfortable and modern and very livable. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d been expecting, but she’d been pleasantly surprised, nonetheless.

Tate was surprising her as well. He’d answered the door barefoot and wearing baggy cargo shorts, his shoulders and chest nicely outlined by an
almost
-too-tight T-shirt. His hair had still been a little damp from his shower, and he smelled of warm, wet skin and soap. She’d nearly dropped the food off and left, figuring she could come up with some kind of excuse.

But then Tate turned on the charm at a level she’d
never witnessed from him before, and even though she tried to resist, she was being won over by it. By him.

He was funny and easy to talk to, too.

And while part of her wanted to question what she was doing here, with him, the rest of her didn’t care. She knew this wasn’t a date, but it was fun to pretend, just for a little while. It had just been so long since she’d done anything remotely like a date, and she was having a good time.

As for Tate, she had no idea what was going through his head, what he might think this was, but he was certainly staying on the safe side with his charm. It was so platonic and friendly, in fact, that if it hadn’t been for that
moment
last night, she wouldn’t have given it a second thought.

Of course, she was also operating on approximately two hours of sleep, so this could all just be a hallucination. It was all the more reason to not try to read anything into this other than exactly what it was. A meal. Between friends.

Because they were actually friends now, not just two of Helena’s friends. That much she knew, and she wasn’t unhappy about it.

As long as she didn’t overthink it, at least.

“Next thing I know, this cat has climbed me like a tree, blood is going everywhere, and one of the other students starts puking his guts . . . Sorry,” he interrupted himself, shaking his head. “I forget that most people don’t have conversations involving bodily fluids at the dinner table.”

“It’s okay. You weren’t graphic enough to turn my stomach. I guess you kinda have to have a strong stomach to be a vet. Or any kind of doctor.”

“It’s not necessarily a strong stomach. It’s just accepting that stuff comes out of bodies and dealing with it.” He shrugged. “Sometimes you still gag, but you deal.”

That made her laugh. “I think that would be a great mantra.”

“What?”

“You know, a Zen life mantra thing. ‘Sometimes you gag, but you still have to deal.’ That’s life in a nutshell.”

“Very true. It’s a picturesque, if slightly gross, sentiment, but true nonetheless.”

She eyeballed another rib, debating whether she had room. “So if bodily fluids don’t gross you out, is there anything that does?”

“Bugs,” he answered without hesitation. “Killing bugs, specifically. They make that crunching sound, and that’s just gross.” A little shudder shook his shoulders.

She dropped her napkin onto her plate dramatically. “And with that, I’m done with my dinner.”

Tate looked a little abashed. “You asked.”

“I was done anyway,” she assured him.

“Your turn.” He leaned back in his chair, seemingly completely at ease. “Tell me interesting tales from the coffee shop.”

“There are fewer of those than you might think. Coffee and pastries lack drama.” She laughed. “Mainly because they don’t fight, bite, or bleed.”

“True. But you deal with people. They’re far more dangerous.”

“Only before they’re fully caffeinated.” He laughed, which made her smile. It felt good. “You have to deal with people all day long, too.”

“Yes, but I also get to pet the kitties and the puppies all day long. There’s nothing better than that for stress relief.”

She loved how he unashamedly expressed his love for the critters he treated. “Do you ever get tired of them?”

“The animals?” He looked surprised at her question. “No.”

Leaning back, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why don’t you have a pet?”

“Well, I work long hours—sometimes even through the middle of the night,” he reminded her, “so they’d be left alone a lot. A cat might be okay with that, but not a dog. And since I often foster cats
and
dogs until they get homes, there could be interspecies fighting. Maybe one day, though.”

“I’m not sure I should trust a vet without a pet,” she teased.

“I’ll remember that the next time you call me at two o’clock in the morning.” Tate winked at her as he went to the fridge to get the tea pitcher. After refilling her glass, he started to tidy up the table. “Thank you for dinner, by the way.”

“And thank you for answering the phone at two o’clock in the morning.” Clearing the table seemed like her hint that it was time to leave, even if he had just refilled her glass. Tate had to be exhausted, and since this early dinner had extended into actual dinnertime, he was probably ready to call it a night.

But then Tate sat back down, casually leaning back in his chair again, those long legs stretched out under the table.
Okay, we’re not done.
“How are things with the Children’s Fair?” he asked. “You all set?”

“I think so. I keep going over everything, thinking I must have forgotten something pretty important somewhere, but everything seems to be ready to go. It helps, of course, that so many of the people have been involved with this for years and know exactly what they’re doing.”

“I told you.” There was just a hint of smugness in his voice.

“Yes, you did. Bask in it. If it all goes well, and we
make the money goal, you can chant all the ‘I told you so’s you want.”