“That’s all anyone can ask for.”
After the mayor left, Montana returned to the play area and worked with the dogs. Max was a big believer in constant reinforcement. Therapy dogs were expected to be well behaved and well trained. She worked with those dogs still in training twice a day and ran the more experienced members of the team through different sequences a few times a week.
Working with the dogs meant not having to think about the mayor’s extraordinary request. Montana knew she would have to do her best but had exactly no idea of where to start. Apologizing to the man in question was probably a good place.
At noon, she went into the house to tell Max she was heading into town for lunch and would be back in an hour. Her boss grinned when he saw her.
“Guess who called,” he said.
“Publishers Clearing House? I’ve won twenty million dollars?”
Max laughed. “Not exactly. Dr. Simon Bradley phoned. He would like to come by this afternoon.”
Montana’s appetite vanished and she had to resist the urge to whimper. “Why?”
“He wants to talk to you.”
“Talk or throw rocks at me?”
“He said talk. Maybe he wasn’t as pissed as you thought.”
Oh, he’d been plenty pissed, Montana thought as she walked to her car. The question was what he was going to do to her as punishment.
CHAPTER TWO
MONTANA SPENT THE NEXT COUPLE of hours trying not to go crazy. Although Dr. Bradley had threatened to visit, he hadn’t said when that would happen, leaving her to constantly check the long driveway leading to the house and kennels. Knowing she wasn’t at her mental best while she waited, she decided to clean out the outdoor runs.
The interior of the building had large individual kennels with raised platforms and size-appropriate beds. The space was kept heated in winter and air-conditioned in summer. Skylights and windows filled the cavernous room with light. Although several of the dogs had learned how to unfasten the simple latch on their kennels, they stayed where they were supposed to. Each dog had his or her own toys, water and a door leading to an outside area.
Pads of cement were enclosed by chain-link fencing. During the day, the dogs were either working or together in a common area. The pads were rarely used, but still got dusty. A brief rain shower the previous night had left them muddy.
Montana kicked off her sandals, stepped into a pair of rubber boots and grabbed the hose. She started spraying down the cement, reminding herself as she worked that her conversation with Dr. Bradley was going to be a great learning opportunity. With her personality, her default position was to feel guilty and act like a doormat, something she didn’t want to do anymore. So this time she would be strong.
Yes, it was unfortunate that Fluffy had escaped into the hospital. It was a mistake. Neither Montana nor the dog was mean or evil. As far as Montana knew, there hadn’t been any lasting damage, so Dr. Stick-Up-the-Butt was just going to have to get over it. If he thought he could come over and intimidate her, he was wrong. Well, mostly wrong.
By three she’d finished with the outdoor runs and had managed to work herself up into a frenzy of righteous indignation. Just because someone was a doctor didn’t give him the right to make people feel bad about themselves. She wouldn’t stand for it, and as soon as he got here she was going to tell him that.
She stomped over to the main faucet and turned off the water. Her feet were hot inside the rubber boots, but she still had to coil the hose before she could slip them off. She would take a few minutes, tidy herself and then—
“Max said I would find you out here.”
The low, masculine voice came from nowhere. Montana spun toward the sound, nearly tripping over the boots and dropping the hose. Good thing the water was already off, she thought as she managed to stay upright and face the intruder. Or maybe not.
He was more amazing than she remembered. Not just the height or the broad shoulders. No, the thing that made him different, the thing that would make him impossible to forget was his face. The sheer perfection of his bone structure, the fullness of his mouth, the unusual color of his eyes. Even the sunlight seemed to shimmer around him as if it, too, were impressed.
He’d traded in his white doctor’s coat for a long-sleeved, white, button-down shirt with gray pinstripes. His tie was loose and, on anyone else, that would have been sexy. Except he was too stiff in the way he stood, too controlled. As if he weren’t comfortable being as mortal as everyone else.
“You know Max?” she asked, unable to think of another question and equally unable to stop staring at him. “You seem more the ‘Mr. Thurman’ type.”
He frowned. “Is that his last name? He introduced himself as Max.”