Can't Touch This (2 page)

To Fluff Bucket.

You will always be a one in a billion bunny. You will always be in my heart, my life, my thoughts. You taught me how to love purely without boundaries or expectation. You taught me empathy and compassion on a rabbit scale and no other creature loves so unconditionally.

I love you.

I miss you.

Until we meet again.

“OH GOD, OH GOD, OH God.”

“Wow, you’re feeling extra religious this morning.”

I looked up, glowering at my best friend and business partner, Polly Dartford. Yes, her name sounded as if she’d stepped from a musical and somehow ended up in a Jane Austen love story, but her head was screwed on so damn tight, I honestly didn’t know how we’d made it through university together.

I thought the key to a ‘dynamic duo’ was one was kooky and fun and not afraid to shag a few bad choices or drink a few stupid decisions, while the other was so straight-laced her life was a proverbial straight jacket.

We couldn’t both be so by-the-book and organised and disciplined—where was the fun in that? And how were we supposed to relax when we wound each other up with work stress and life worries?

She was supposed to be the funny one while I was the serious one.

But no.

There was no opposite in our girl bestie relationship.

“He just walked in. Didn’t he? I think I hear him.” I stood on my tiptoes, improving just marginally on my average height that I refused to jazz up with heels (screw that, they hurt my feet). I did my best to sneak a peek through the small window on the door to reception.

Polly rolled her eyes. “If you’re so freaked out about helping him, take my eleven a.m. appointment and I’ll do yours.”

Oh, really?

As if.

She didn’t do well with anything off track from her colour-coded diary. Hell, who was I kidding? I was the same. My phone regularly beeped with reminders and friendly prods to stay on track with my responsibilities.

That was the reason (but not the only reason—oh no, not by a long way) why I could barely tolerate Ryder Carson.

Dropping my voice, I hissed, “Nice offer, but next time, actually put some enthusiasm and commitment behind it.”

Polly huffed. “Whatevs, it’s called being supportive.”

“Being supportive means actually wanting to do what you just said because it benefits your best friend.”

“Pfffftttt.” She laughed. “Who would honestly want to deal with that man?”

“Exactly my point.”

She squinted at the window, trying to make out if it was him or not.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if he made a damn appointment.” I swiped hair from my blue eyes that earned a lashing of mascara in the mornings and that was it. No eyeliner, no colourful eye shadows—no beautification of any kind, thank you very much. After all, what was the point?

Most days I hung around females of the human variety and a menagerie of the animal kind. A four-legged friend didn’t care if I looked like a haggard twenty-four-year old or a botoxed diva.

As long as I cured them, that was all they needed to know.

“How about you put your foot down this time?” Polly finished wrapping the final dressing on the poor tabby’s leg that’d been hit by a car, and cocked her chin for me to grab the bottom corners of the medical sheet the unconscious pussy cat lay on.

Together (thanks to years of practice), we lifted seamlessly and ever so gently placed the kitty back into its cage for it to wake as the anaesthesia faded.

The setting of broken bones was easy these days. The sight of blood and scalpels had been my worst nightmare when we’d suffered our first practical classroom together at Trithorn University. We’d met at orientation—bumping into each other as we jotted notes into matching moleskin journals.

It had been love at first sight.

However, our chosen profession had not. We’d almost thrown up on that first practical, staring with tear-filled eyes at the frozen but now thawed mouse we had to dissect.

Funny how education, age, and time could turn even the timid of students into capable veterinarians.

Now, we could perform minor to major operations without breaking a rapid heartbeat.

“My foot
has
been down, Pol. Since the very first time he waltzed his stupid butt in here.”

Polly laughed. “And he does have a butt. A nice butt. But I don’t know if it’s stupid.” She cocked her head. “Besides, how does one’s anatomy go about becoming stupid when its only function is forward prolusion and a comfy cushion to sit on?”

“Shush it.” I massaged my temples. “Why are you thinking so in-depth about his butt?”

“Why are you bringing his butt into conversation?”

“Ugh, I can’t win with you.”

She giggled harder, arranging the drip and checking the cat’s mouth position while it slumbered in la-la land. “I’ve seen you looking at it.”

No way.

I haven’t.

I got an eye full when he put that Great Dane on the table but that’s it.

Polly waggled her eyebrows. “I hear your brain trying to come up with excuses. Just own it, Ves. You looked. You liked. You ogled.”

“I did not
ogle
.” My chin rose with a haughty sniff. “I’m a professional.”

“A professional who appreciates good looks.”

Like she could talk. Miss Innocence.

“You’ve looked at it, too,” I said.

She nodded sagely as if this fact was not only entirely obvious but utterly acceptable. Her chestnut hair, braided in a long fishtail down her back, swished on her baby blue scrubs. “I’ve looked but unlike you—I haven’t touched.”

My mouth fell open. “
Me
? You think I’ve
touched
it?” My palm planted over my heart still encased in surgical gloves. “Nuh-huh. I would
never
do such a thing. If I never saw that egoistical butt again, I’d be so much happier.”

Why the hell are we still talking about his butt?

We really needed to see other people. Maybe get laid.

I made a mental note to make a memo to arrange a new activity or go online and set up a date with a stranger. Odd things happened if you spent too much time working with no play.

Polly ignored my need to prove my purity. “So, you’re saying if he never brought another dog in here, never demanded in that sexy-as-hell voice for you to drop everything and look after his pooch because he can’t stand to see him in pain—you’d be okay with that?”

I crossed my arms, nodding resolutely. “Totally.”

“Good. Tell him that then.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Either tell him that he needs to make an appointment and I’ll deal with his zoo from now on, or suck it up. You can’t ask him to leave the clinic. We need his patronage.” Polly gave me her stern
‘this is what is going to happen because I know best’
look as she stripped off her gloves and headed toward the basin to wash up. “Your choice, Ves.”

So far we’d set a cat’s leg, had a consultation with an elderly blue-rinsed woman and her bad mannered Pookimo, and argued (Polly called it a discussion) about our need to hire another assistant—or if we could afford it, another vet.

My view was we didn’t have the income to expand the team just yet. Polly’s view was our practice was growing too fast and if we wanted to keep up with demand, we had to find a way to afford more salaries.

Even button tight and too like me in every sense of stuckupness, she was a little laxer with money when it came to things we needed than I was. My money was spent on other things.

“You suck,” I grumbled.

“Sorry, chicka, I only suck for the right guy.” She winked. “And last time I saw you naked, you didn’t have a worm in your shorts.”

“Eww, a
worm
?” I burst out laughing. “Seriously, Pol, who the hell have you been dating?”

“Um, Vesper?”

My shoulders rolled as our receptionist—a nineteen-year-old first year vet student, Amanda—stuck her head around the door. “Mr. Carson is requesting your services.”

Dangnamit, it
is
him.

“Oh, I bet he is.” Curtailing my laugh, I pointed at Polly to keep her thoughts to herself. “You…zip it.”

Polly held up her hands as if at gunpoint. “I wasn’t going to say a thing.”

“He said it’s urgent,” Amanda added. “He’s pacing. He says he won’t leave until you’ve done what he requires.”

Oh my God, that man and his high-handed demands.

Perhaps I should head out there on my knees already in grovelling pose, so his need for utmost obedience and servitude was fulfilled.

Tearing my gloves off, I huffed. “What does he have this time?”

Forearmed was forewarned, or was that the other way around? Either way, it wouldn’t make dealing with this man any easier. He was the thorn to my rose; the cloud to my sun. 

He annoyed me, all right? I didn’t need a reason why. And I definitely didn’t need my business partner making me feel as if I cheated my own self-worth if I occasionally —
just occasionally
—slipped and looked at his butt.

It was a good butt.

Damn it.

Amanda looked over her shoulder. “It’s a wiener today.”

“Oh, no. Not again.” Flashbacks of our first meeting unravelled in my head like a bad horror movie. Him flopping the wiener on the table and growling for me to fix it. Him looking at my sparkling equipment and saying if I saved his wiener, he would be back with twenty more.

It had sounded like a crude pick-up line.

And who the hell had twenty wieners?

I hadn’t believed him.

Yet the next week, he was back with a Shih-mo and a Puggat (they sound exotically incredible but they’re just fancy names by breeders to sell cross-breed dogs for thousands of dollars). I didn't condone the use of hybrid names but I did condone mixing bloodlines. There were too many mental and immune issues with purebred canines.

Poor Dalmatians were devolving in their mental capacity and becoming the equivalent of doggy rejects because they’d been inbred too many times.

But that’s beside the point.

He’s here with yet another pet project.

And I was his victim.

Polly burst out laughing as she patted my shoulder. “I bet he has a big wiener.”

I groaned. “Seriously, what are you? Twelve?”

“Would a twelve-year-old know that when I say wiener with sarcasm, I’m really talking about his cock?”

I plugged my fingers in my ears. “Ugh, I don’t want to think about his cock.”

I’m already thinking too much about his butt.

“Oh, please.” She yanked my elbow, dislodging my attempt at protecting my innocent ears and my brain from dirty thoughts such as Mr. Carson’s wiener.

I mean cock.

I mean…don’t think about his penis.

She giggled. “You really need to get laid.”

“I was just thinking the same about you.”

“Perhaps we can double date and fix both our problems.” Polly smiled.

“Ms. Fairfax!” A masculine growl came through the crack in the door behind Amanda. “I’m pressed for time and this dog needs attention. Can you hurry up and put the poor creature out of its misery?”

“Oh my God.” I slapped my forehead. “Does he have on/off switch? Can’t he have a second’s worth of patience like a normal person?”

“Do you want me to tell him to make an appointment?” Amanda tugged the end of her black haired ponytail.

“No!” Polly squeezed my shoulder before not so subtly shoving me toward the door and the most impatient, egotistical man I’d ever met. “Vesper will do her job. Won’t you, Ves?”

Nope.

“You go do it.” I fought her pushy pushing. “Go play with his wiener.”

“No way. You’re the one who made him that way. First impressions and all that—this is your fault, and he’s your client now and always.”

“How the hell do you figure it’s my fault?” I whirled on her. “You’re seriously blaming this on me?”

She held up her hands. “Hey, you shouldn’t have been all ‘Why, yes, Mr. Carson, we were just closing but I’ll look at your Cockapoo right away.’”

“It wasn’t a Cockapoo.” I crossed my arms. “And it’s called a business. I was providing good service, Pol.”

She laughed. “Doesn’t matter. You let him dictate your time.”

This argument was getting on my nerves. “He was a new client. We’d only been open a few weeks.”

“All the more reason to remain nice to our customers.”

“Can’t I just be nice to the animals and not the humans?”

Polly smirked, pushing me unwillingly toward the door. “No.”

“Why?” I whinged as Amanda disappeared to tell him I was at the mercy of his numerous demands. The murmur of voices heralded me closer to yet another tense and embarrassing situation that I always suffered when Ryder Carson came to visit.

“Because the humans have the money. And we needz it.” Spanking my ass, Polly blew me a kiss. “Now shoo. Go and give that man’s wiener extra special attention.”