It was quiet. She swiped her hair out of her eyes and breathed a sigh of utter contentment as she walked around the clinic.
It had been a good first day. This is what she’d wanted, what she’d worked so hard for. She’d lost sight of it for a while and thought she’d never have it.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
Daisy’s ears perked up, and she bounded out of the office at the sound of the deep, booming voice in the lobby.
Emma thought she’d locked the door.
She hurried out to see a man holding a German shepherd by the leash who sat regally while Daisy tried to play with it.
“Daisy, come here.”
Daisy came over and sat dutifully next to her, tail whipping against Emma’s lab coat.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah. I saw your lights were on and was hoping you’d still be open. My dog hurt his leg.”
He came toward her, and she took a wary step back, until he walked under the overhead lights and she saw he was wearing a cop uniform. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“You scared me there for a second.”
“I’m really sorry. Luke McCormack. I’m local police here. This is my dog, Boomer.”
McCormack. Last name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. She would definitely remember a guy who looked like him. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a uniform that fit him—very well. Dark brown pants, lighter brown shirt. Gun strapped to his hip. Very dark hair, cut short, full lips. Serious expression, which only made him look . . .
Hot. Sexy. Though she didn’t think about men being sexy these days. She didn’t think about men at all, and hadn’t for a very long time.
As he approached, she noticed the dog was limping. “Oh. What happened?”
“We were chasing a perp—uh, a suspect. Boomer must have twisted his leg in a hole or something because he yelped and came up limping. I was headed toward the Barkley’s vet clinic and saw Doc Weston’s office was open again, so figured I’d stop here first. If you’re closed, I can—”
“No. Of course, I’ll look at him. Bring him on back.” He walked side by side with her, and she noticed how very tall and broad he was. Daisy wound between them, licking the officer’s hand and staring adoringly up at him.
Yeah, some watchdog you are, Daisy. Daisy wasn’t exactly what one could consider a personal bodyguard, unless excessive licking and an overabundance of affection counted as weaponry.
Emma led the officer into the exam room and flipped on the lights, then turned around and knelt down, trying to calm her stupid, raging heartbeat. She smiled at the dog. “Okay, Boomer. Let’s take a look.”
“Boomer. Sit,” the officer said.
The dog sat and she examined his leg. He whimpered as she pressed on it. After finishing the exam, she lifted her gaze to the police officer. “Officer McCormack, I’d like to get an X-ray of this leg. I don’t think anything’s broken, but I want to be sure.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
“You can come with me. It’ll calm him to have you there.”
She brought them back to the X-ray room, and he helped her get Boomer on the table while she got his leg in place for the X-ray.
“So, you bought Dr. Weston’s practice?” he asked.
Again, that voice of his. Deep and seriously . . . unnerving, but not in a bad way. It was doing something to her nerve endings she found decidedly . . .
Uncomfortable wasn’t the word. She just noticed his voice. And so did her body. “Yes. I bought it right after he retired.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I got your name.”
She looked up at him and frowned, then realized she’d been a complete moron and hadn’t bothered to introduce herself. “I’m so sorry, officer. I’m Emma Burnett.”
“Nice to meet you, Emma. Are you new in town?”
“Actually, I grew up here. My parents live over on Willow.”
He nodded. “Did you go to Oakdale High?”
“No. I went to Hope High.”
“Oh, okay. The Burnetts on Willow. Your sister is Molly Burnett, then, right? She dated my friend Carter Richards in high school.”
Hope was such a small town. Everyone knew everyone else. “Yes, Molly’s my little sister. Did you go to Hope High, too?”
“No. I went to Oakdale.”
That’s why she didn’t recognize him right off. He’d gone to the high school nearer to the county line. “Your name sounds familiar to me, too. Did you play football for Oakdale?”
“Yeah. Wide receiver.”
Now she knew why she recognized his name. He’d been some kind of football star. She remembered reading about him in the newspaper. He’d been good. But they hadn’t known each other back then.
“So this is your clinic now?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
She grabbed the film and slid it in.
“Luke.”
She looked up. “Excuse me?”
“Call me Luke. Not officer, and definitely not sir. Too formal.”