If one more toddler pounded on exhibit glass, watched by a smiling parent, Blane was going to take a fucking paint roller to it. See how people liked it when they couldn’t see the animals at all.

But he fixed a smile on his face as he glanced up from the zoo kitchen countertop, watching the security feed for signs of trouble.

He didn’t usually help with the large animals, but someone had called in sick—probably a case of the Sunny Skies. They weren’t such a big zoo that he could turn up his nose and make Gregory do all the food prep on his own. Now he was getting the meerkats’ lunch ready, since it was almost time for the public talk, then mealtime.

“Thanks again for your help,” Gregory told him. “I owe you one.”

“Nah. Looking in on Sheila for me last weekend was enough. We’re even,” Blane told him.

Gregory grinned. “So, how’d that go?”

“He was all right. Seemed nice enough,” Blane told him, unable to keep the frown from his face as he chopped carrots. He’d also hide mealworms in the exhibit as usual, so the meerkats could forage for them.

“And?”

“He left pretty fast. He, uh, got a glimpse of Sheila and freaked out.”

“Come on. Who wouldn’t love an adorable baby sloth? And a guy helping hand-rear one?” Gregory scoffed. “He’s a loser, then.”

Blane couldn’t bring himself to defend the guy. “Yeah, probably.”

“Okay, off to feed our long-necked friends.” Gregory balanced a bowl of pellets on his hip. “You’ll do better next time, man.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Blane answered automatically and waved his knife. He didn’t want to mope all over his coworker. “Get out of here.”

He brought the meerkats’ lunch to the keepers’ area beside the exhibit at ten minutes to the hour, and then took a deep breath in and out.

Time for his favorite part of his job: interacting with the animals. Sure, he had to talk to the humans about them, but he couldn’t carry any stress or tension into an exhibit, or even near one. Whether they were tiny four-legged animals, giant land mammals, or reptiles, all animals sensed it.

His vet duties came first, but he acted part-time as a keeper, too. There wasn’t usually enough work to keep him busy in the clinic all day. No matter what the context, Blane found the most peace in his life when he was working with the animals in his care. Relaxing and keeping calm the moment he was around them was a reflex.

Today was no exception. As he watched the meerkats from the keepers’ area, a smile crossed his lips.

How lucky was he? He really did have everything in life he needed.

* * *

There was the usual mix of guests: older retired couples, young people having a day off from college, parents with young children. One or two people there on their own, too. He always wondered what their story was.

Blane had his hour-long talk refined to a science. Joke, fact, introduction, another joke, discuss the habitat…

He moved smoothly from subject to subject, and when the time came for him to handle the meerkat, Chilli behaved wonderfully.

It wasn’t as exciting as the big cat shows, but he did his best to make it interesting and factual. Meerkats really were a wonderful species. He loved their sociability and personality, even though he claimed not to have favorites.

“Any last questions?”

It seemed like nobody was willing to put a hand up, so he wished them a good day at the zoo and headed to the back of the exhibit to feed them.

Once he’d set the bowls of chopped vegetables in the middle, he backed out, scattering the mealworms across the exhibit as the guests watching made “ew” sounds. Like they’d never seen a mealworm before.

Already, the clever little creatures were seeking them out, using their paws in a remarkably dexterous fashion.

He hummed under his breath and checked off the lunchtime on the schedule on the wall. It was back to the kitchen for food prep—most of the keepers spent more time there every day than in the individual animal exhibits.

Before he left, Blane checked that everyone was eating well today. Chilli had been a little unwell last week, but she seemed to have a healthy appetite now.

Blane pulled open the door, then stopped short and arched an eyebrow. Someone had set up an easel directly in front of the gate.

One of the most gorgeous guys he’d ever seen hurried toward him. “Oh, shit. I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“Learning to recognize a gate might help you,” Blane commented, waiting patiently as the man shuffled the easel to one side. Freaking art students, in the way with all their clutter and… well, clutter.

“I thought it was one of those unused ones. You know, like no parking here, gate in constant use!, and then nobody enters or leaves in three years.”

He was joking, but Blane tried not to buy in just because he was hot. He could hear kids yelling at the meerkats from over here, and he had to go sort it out now. “Yeah. Just be more careful,” he said, his authoritative voice already on.

“Yes, sir.” Was that a flirtatious wink?

Blane’s cheeks flushed but he ignored it and nodded politely at the art student, or whatever he was. Probably a student. Professors liked to send herds of them out to do shitty sketches of animals and realize how much anatomy they didn’t know.

Blane politely asked the parents of the screaming kids not to let them scream at full volume and disturb the sensitive animals who lived here. His gaze kept wandering over to the corner where the easel was set up, though.

He was being stupid. The guy was just one more guest. It didn’t matter that the guy had winked at him, or that he had dimples when he smiled. He wasn’t going to start picking up guests now. He wasn’t that desperate.

But the way he’d sucked his breath in when Blane told him off, his eyes darkening and cheeks flushing…

Okay, maybe there was a bit of flirtation there.

As he wandered back toward the guy, Blane offered, “You’ll get a better angle from the other side. They like to hang out in that quadrant after lunchtime,” he gestured.

Why the hell was he even telling him this?

It was kind of worth it to watch his cheeks dimple again. “Thanks,” the young artist—really, probably about his own age, but built a little thinner since he didn’t regularly have to maneuver sedated animals. “And it gets me out of the way, huh?”

“And it gets you out of the way.” Blane folded his arms, trying to forget that time was ticking and he had to get to the penguins next. People always loved watching them be fed. “You a student?”

“No.” The man laughed, and goddamn him, he was one of those jerks with perfect dimples. “A little old for that, but thanks. I graduated art school five years ago with a degree, debt. and… well… a can-do attitude.” He brushed a hand through his wild hair, then played with a few strands of it and tilted his head. “For all that’s worth.”

“Did that last?”

“Not really. Don’t go to art school. I learned more in a year of full-time painting than three years dicking around in class.”

“I’ll resist the temptation,” Blane answered as he started to walk off. “You here all day?”

He didn’t even know why he’d asked. Jesus. Get it together, man.

That was unmistakably a flirtatious wink. “Yeah. My name’s Falcon.”

Come on. Get it together. Don’t hit on him. “Do you have permission to be?” He spoke a bit more brusquely than he meant to, but it didn’t seem to faze the other man at all.

“Uh… do I have what?”

“Permission. I know photographers need it for commercial purposes. I mean, you might be competing with our resident artists.” When the guy looked confused, he smiled slightly and added, “The animals.”

One of his favorite enrichment programs was the painting program. Some animals like elephants were trained to paint. Unlike certain publicity stunts, they were trained by positive reinforcement. Others were given trays of non-toxic paint and paper, and as they ran across, their footprints formed works of art.

A few times a year, they held art auctions for the creations, and they were always a hit with zoo supporters. It was a win all around.

“Huh. I never thought,” Falcon frowned. “Guess I better go ask.”

Blane nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, the penguins will be upset if I miss their lunchtime…”

“Don’t let me keep you.” Falcon offered another slow smile that made something go funny in Blane’s stomach.

I don’t need guys. I don’t need to hook up with them and then find out I’m worthless for anything more. I bet that’s all he wants, looking at me like that.

Blane turned on his heel and strode for the kitchen, and completely ignored the impulse to look over his shoulder for one last glimpse of Falcon.

Maybe, if he was still there when he went to take away the empty lunch bowls, he’d talk to him again.

Maybe.