Adam’s eyes skimmed over Kylie, taking in her appearance. She’d come dressed in jeans, a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and tennis shoes.

In other words, she came ready to work in a vet office.

He appreciated that. If she’d come in high heels and nylons, he would’ve sent her packing on the spot. He didn’t have time for that kind of bullshit. He dealt with enough shit – real shit – on a daily basis. A girl who spent more time primping than working wasn’t gonna cut it.

But speaking of not cutting it, she also wasn’t anywhere near 50 years old. Hell, she probably wasn’t even 25. He tried to remember when the VanLueven girl had graduated from high school, but after a while, that sort of thing just blended together. Too many teenagers and kids and infants to keep track of.

Well, she was here. He might as well see how she did around the animals in the back. “C’mon back here,” he said with a jerk of his head, heading down the hallway to the back. “You should meet our current crop of patients.”

She followed him, her tennis shoes squeaking on the worn gray tile floor. “I heard about the job opening,” she said as they walked, “from my mom, who heard about it from the book club, Between the Covers, so honestly, I’m not sure if I even have the qualifications you’re looking for.”

They got to the back, where the dogs were barking, the cats were meowing, and there was just a general sense of chaos.

So, a typical day at Whitaker’s Vet Clinic.

“Do you love animals, and do you want to work with them?” he asked bluntly, watching her as she began to wander around the crowded room. She stuck her fingers through the wire of Pickles’ cage, and Adam bit back his warning not to stick her hands into cages with random animals. Pickles was an older dog, though, that’d just had a growth removed and was docile as a sloth. The worst he could do was slobber someone to death.

She nodded as she laughed lightly, Pickles’ pink tongue lavishing her fingers with kisses. “Yes, very much. My mom wouldn’t let me have a pet growing up; she said one human child was quite enough for her, without my dad around to help, you know? But I’ve always loved animals and they seem to like me.”

She moved down a couple of cages to Sir Grouch, who got his name for a reason. Before Adam could yell out a warning, though, Kylie had unlocked the door and was pulling out the crotchety old cat, snuggling him against her chest. “Oh, aren’t you a sweetie,” she cooed as the cat’s rusty, loud purr filled the air.

Adam was pretty sure his mouth was dragging on the ground. In all of the time he’d been taking care of Sir Grouch – and keep in mind, his owner had adopted the damn cat when he was being weaned from his mom – he’d never missed an opportunity to let loose with his claws at least once per visit, if not multiple times per visit. Adam tended to wear long-sleeve shirts even in the heat of summer exactly because of cats like Sir Grouch.

And yet…

“So you’re at college, right?” Adam asked, tearing his eyes away from the insanity in front of him. “In Oregon? Or Washington? I can’t remember.”

“I was in Bend, Oregon, attending a small community college there.” Adam could hardly hear her over the din of the dogs barking and Sir Grouch purring, but what he didn’t miss was her 100-watt smile. “I’m home for a bit; I got my generals done but I didn’t want to keep going until I figured out what I wanted to do with my life.”

He moved a little closer. So he could hear her better, of course. Nothing else. “So you’re not going to school to become a vet tech or something?”

She shook her head, her straight blonde hair swishing with the movement. Sir Grouch was now bathing her chin in kisses.

Adam felt faint. Kisses. The damn cat was kissing Kylie. Was he dreaming? He might be dreaming.

“It never occurred to me, honestly,” Kylie said, answering his question. “I love animals well enough, so I could, but I won’t lie and say that it’s been a lifetime goal of mine.”

Adam stared down at her, thinking. She wasn’t 50 years old. She didn’t come equipped with a steely-eyed gaze, at least that he could tell. She didn’t have a single gray hair on her head. She wasn’t a vet tech in training.

“Any receptionist or billing experience?” he asked hopefully, grasping at straws. Despite her complete lack of any characteristics that he’d been looking for in a receptionist, he still wasn’t willing to turn her away.

Not yet.

She shook her head again, nuzzling her face against Sir Grouch’s mangy coat. “I worked at a gas station in Oregon for four years while going to school. Pumping gas for customers.” A shadow passed over her face and then it was gone again, replaced by a…60-watt smile. Flickering from being plugged into a shitty outlet. “It’s taken me four years to do two years’ worth of generals because of working full-time, but I’ve been trying hard to stay out of debt. Now, though, I need to make a decision about what my career is going to be, so here I am. I’m staying with my mom for the moment, while I contemplate my choices.”

Sir Grouch had snuggled down and appeared to be drifting off to sleep in Kylie’s arms. A nap. In the arms of someone else other than his owner.

It was stupid and impulsive and would probably go down in history as one of the dumbest reasons on the planet to hire a person, but Adam couldn’t help it. Sir Grouch had voted, and had overridden every one of his reasonable concerns.

“When can you start?”