One Pucking Destiny (Crane Hockey #4)

Chapter 22

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

ARI

“ O h my gosh!” I look at Dr. Pedlow and suppress a laugh as I pull off the reinforced Kevlar gloves that cover all the way to my elbows with a tug. “Sir Whiskers is a nightmare.”

Sir Whiskers and his owner have left the exam room, but I remain, needing to get my bearings. I’ve never met such an angry cat in my life.

Dr. Pedlow shakes her head. “I’ve been Sir Whisker’s vet since he was a kitten, and he has always been an asshole.”

“He’s savage. I’m pretty sure he’d kill me if he could.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” She nods. “His owner swears he’s as sweet as can be at home, but somehow, I doubt it.”

I raise a brow. “Did you see the scratches on her hands? I think he gives her a run for her money. I’m sure he’s worse with us, but there is no way he’s this little docile thing at home.”

“I know. I’ve asked her if she needs help, advice, or a trainer to visit, but she insists that he’s just perfect. So we see him for his yearly checkup, and that’s it.”

Opening the door to the cupboard, I hang the gloves up. I quickly scan my unscratched skin and mentally thank the creator of those amazing gloves.

“I almost wanted to say blink twice if your cat is holding you hostage.” I snicker.

“She adores that monster.” Dr. Pedlow quickly moves her fingers across the screen of her laptop, updating the notes from the visit before she closes the screen.

“Right? Did you see her sweatshirt? It had his face on it.”

Dr. Pedlow raises her brows. “I’m surprised you noticed her attire as you were fighting for your life.” She slides the laptop beneath her arm, and we head for the door. “You handled Sir Whiskers very well, by the way.”

“Thank you. ”

Back in Dr. Pedlow’s office, I finish charting my patients, making sure I didn’t forget to include any important notes. When I’m done, we go over all the animals we saw today and touch on the good things about each visit along with any ways I could improve. I’m so fortunate to work with such an incredible veterinarian as Dr. Pedlow. The time she takes mentoring me is invaluable.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” she asks.

As she’s the person I spend most of my life with these days, she’s become a friend.

I shrug. “I was thinking I might volunteer here again and assist with any emergency patients.”

“Ariana,” she chastises. “You are twenty-two years old. Give yourself a break.”

“But I learn so much when I work on the weekends. The emergency visits are different from the scheduled appointments.”

“You have your whole life to learn. You know more about this profession than many certified veterinarians and certainly more than anyone in your class. It’s okay to have a life. In fact, it will make you a better vet.”

I squint. “How? That makes no sense.”

She supplies an audible grin. “Balance, Ariana. It’s good. You should try it. The happiest people have a healthy balance between work and home life. It can’t be all work, or you’ll burn out before you begin.”

“I know that, but I’ll have time for all that after earning my degree and getting my first job. Right now, I’m still in the hustle part of it.”

She sighs. “I forbid you to volunteer this weekend.”

“What?”

She points a finger my way. “I’m serious. If I hear you showed up this weekend, I’m firing you.”

“You can’t fire me.”

“Ari.” Her voice is a warning.

“Fine,” I grumble. “I’ll take the weekend off.”

“That’s my girl. Go be twenty-two.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say with a huff, causing Dr. Pedlow to laugh.

I grab my coat and purse and head for the exit. Before I reach the door, the secretary calls my name. “Ariana! Wait.”

Turning to face her, I’m not at all surprised to see the enormous bouquet in her arms.

“You got another delivery,” she grunts as she hands the heavy thing to me. “I didn’t want you to go home for the weekend and forget about it.”

“Thanks,” I sigh.

I wrestle the floral monstrosity into my car. The bouquet is beautiful, if not unnecessarily huge. It’s as if Bash thinks the bigger the bouquet, the more likely I am to say yes to more.

I pull off the small card, and it reads Thinking of you.

A beautiful sentiment to go along with the cards at home—missing you, wanting you, and needing you—to name a few. No one could ever claim Bash isn’t a romantic. Romance oozes from his pores, making him almost irresistible. Almost.

I returned from bye week two and a half months ago, and there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t heard from the guy. He’s respected my wishes by staying away, but that’s where his distance ends. He makes sure he’s on my mind with twice-a-week flower deliveries and daily texts. The messages that come across my phone are usually short and sweet just to let me know he’s thinking about me. Every now and then, he’ll send me a gift of some sort—books, chocolates, and even a stylish new winter coat. The brand-name coat had to be pricey, and I wanted to be annoyed when I received it. Yet the stitching on mine was coming loose, and I actually really needed a new one. I never mentioned it, but somehow he just knew, or maybe he didn’t know at all and simply wanted me to have the fancy coat. That’s the thing with Bash; he knows me. I don’t know why he’s so in tune with everything about me, but he is.

It takes me longer than usual to get home. Heavy snow from the impending storm forecasted for this evening is already falling, making the roads slick. We had spring weather just last week, giving us false hope that the warm weather was here to stay. Now, it’s freezing again, and we’re under a winter storm advisory. The joys of Michigan weather.

After a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel for the whole trip and sliding through a stop sign, I make it safely to my apartment building. My tiny car isn’t made for driving in Michigan winters. I really should upgrade to something with all-wheel drive at the very least.

Wrapping my arms around the flowers, I retrieve them from the passenger seat and make my way inside, careful not to slip on the icy sidewalks.

Attempting to wrangle the key from my purse while holding the bouquet has me oblivious to the tall, handsome man at my door.

“Hey,” he says, causing me to yelp.

“Bash!” I hit his arm. “You gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?”

He holds up a brown paper bag. “Bringing dinner.”

“Hold these, please.” I shove the vase of flowers into his arms so I can find my apartment key. I unlock the door, and he follows me inside. “Just place them on the counter.” I point at the kitchen counter, which is unnecessary, considering I live in a studio apartment. Not to mention, the small surface sticks out like a sore thumb in this tiny space because it already houses three vases of flowers with grand bouquets .

“I don’t know if there is room,” he says, amusement in his voice.

“Tell me about it.”

He pushes the other vases as close together as they’ll go so he can add the new one. He sets the bag of food on the stove.

I hang up my coat on the hook by the door and shake out the wet snow from my hair.

“Your coat looks good on you.” He takes a step toward me.

“Thanks. Some stalker bought it for me.”

“Is that so?” He quirks a brow, supplying a cheeky grin, and I can’t ignore the flutters within my belly.

It’s good to see him. While the past couple of months have flown by, and he’s remained in contact, there is nothing like Sebastian Calloway in the flesh. Over the past ten weeks, I’ve tried to convince myself that he is not as beautiful as the images of him in my brain. Surely, my mind exaggerates his good looks as a way to torture me even more. I’ve been good about not googling him, and I’ve been too busy to watch any of his games. All compelling evidence that my mind was playing tricks on me. Yet looking at him now, if anything, my brain downplayed his features. He’s breathtaking.

I sigh. “What are you doing here, Bash? I thought we agreed to no contact?” I hate the way the words come out. If he were anyone else, he would’ve stopped trying a long time ago. But he isn’t just any guy. He’s my sweet golden retriever who would follow me anywhere when I don’t deserve to be followed, who’ll shower me with love when all I give is indifference. He’s perfect and beautiful, and though he hasn’t said the words, he loves me even when I can’t love him back.

“Because it’s been two months, and I miss you, and as the NHL game scheduler gods would have it, we don’t have a Saturday game this weekend.”

“I work every weekend,” I say.

He takes a step closer to me, taking my hands in his. “Are you working this weekend?”

My eyes drop. “No.”

“Interesting.”

I chuckle. “I normally do work weekends, though. This is my first weekend off since bye week.”

“Well, I guess your work scheduler god is also on our side.”

“Her name is Dr. Pedlow, and she told me she’d fire me if I came in this weekend.”

“Sounds like maybe she thinks you’re working a little too much.”

I shrug and lean my head against his chest.

He releases his hold on my hands and wraps his arms around me. I melt into the hug; I’d forgotten how good it feels to be in his presence.

We stand like this, locked in an embrace for an excessive amount of time, yet not nearly long enough.

“Nothing has changed for me, Bash.” I sigh against his chest.

His strong arms squeeze me in closer. “That’s fine. You wanna do a ‘casual hookup, one-stand, no emotions allowed, we’re nothing when it’s over’ weekend?” he asks. His subtle mockery of everything I’ve used to describe us isn’t lost on me.

More than I want to adhere to my self-imposed rules, I want him to stay. “Sure.”

“Shower first? Dinner second?” The questions, innocent enough, carry a warning of what is to come.

It’s been two months since I’ve been naked with Bash, and I can hardly wait.

“Definitely.”