“Unless she doesn’t care that people will see right through the charade?” Spencer speculated.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mason said, irritated with his brother’s persistence. “It’s not your concern.”
“I feel kind of responsible,” Spencer countered. “I mean, it’s my fault you got mixed up with her in the first place.”
“It is,” Mason agreed with equanimity, while vigorously beating the eggs before dumping the lot into a pan. “But I’m fully capable of taking care of myself, and I wasn’t coerced into doing this. So don’t worry about me; little Daisy McGregor is hardly a threat to me.”
“Little.” Spencer sniggered and Mason glared at him.
“Stop being such a shallow dick, dude. No more snide comments about her; she’s going to be my sort-of girlfriend for a couple of weeks, and I expect you to be on board with that. Got it?”
“Sometimes you’re still such a soldier,” Spencer groused, pouring two cups of coffee from the now-percolating machine and placing a mug on the counter closest to Mason. “Barking orders like a general.”
Mason thought about that before acknowledging to himself that he would always be a soldier. It was ingrained, and he had felt most useful and most alive when he was fighting side by side with his brothers-in-arms. That said, it wasn’t a lifestyle he could, or would, be able to maintain. It came with too much emotional baggage, and if Mason hadn’t left the service when he had, it would have claimed the entirety of his soul.
He divided the eggs and bacon between two plates and slapped one down in front of Spencer, before picking up his coffee and joining his brother at the island again. He casually tossed Cooper an extra piece of bacon, which the dog downed in one gulp before immediately looking up for more.
“That’s all you get,” Mason chastised. “And that’s only because we’re jogging it off later. Go lie down.”
The dog gave him a reproachful look before slinking off to the kitchen rug and lying down, keeping a hopeful eye on the eating men.
“You’re going jogging in this weather?” Spencer asked, and they both glanced out the kitchen window to the torrential downpour outside. It had been threatening to rain for days and had finally started sometime during the night.
“I’ve run in worse,” Mason responded succinctly.
“Seriously?” Spencer looked both impressed and horrified. “Care to elaborate?”
“No.”
Spencer cast him a curious sidelong look before shrugging and forking down more of his eggs and bacon. The men ate the rest of their meal in silence.
“Good morning, Thomas,” Daisy greeted the young boy with a huge smile. “How’s Sheba doing today?”
“Good, Dr. Daisy. See?” He pointed to a spot just above the small brown dog’s tail, indicating the healing patch of skin there. Just a week ago the patch had been crusty and seriously inflamed. Sheba, indeed, looked to be on the mend.
“Oh, you’ve been taking good care of her, Thomas. Well done.” The boy beamed at her praise, and she gave the little crossbreed dog a cursory once-over to ensure no other problems.
“Keep using the ointment until it’s finished and bring her back to me in a month, okay? And we’ll see if her fur grew back.” She was happy that the dog seemed to have overcome the mild case of mange that had been developing. “Don’t forget to keep her out of the sand and make sure her bed is clean and dry.”
“Yes, Dr. Daisy.” Thomas nodded, his thin shoulders squaring as he practically bristled with pride that the doctor trusted him with the task. He was only about eight and had showed up a week ago at the free animal clinic that Daisy and her father ran every Saturday at the Inkululeko informal settlement just outside of town. The boy had been distraught that his beloved pet was in distress and, while his mother waited outside, had carried Sheba in himself and explained the problem in the most adult way he could. Daisy had respected him enough to respond to his seriousness with equal gravity.
Patient after patient followed Thomas. They were always slammed at the clinic, and despite the bad weather, today was no different. The workload kept Daisy and her father busy the entire morning, with barely a word spoken between them as they administered vaccinations, took care of minor ailments, and caged a few of the more serious cases in their van for further treatment at her father’s veterinary practice in town. They treated everything from cats and dogs to cart horses, goats, chickens, and even a cow. By the time they closed shop they were exhausted, filthy, and smelly.
“You coming around for dinner tonight, Daisy?” her father asked as they climbed into their van.
“Uh, no,” she said, thinking about her “date” with Mason Carlisle. Something she had successfully managed to push to the back of her mind while she was working. She was still considering canceling it, but the later the day got, the less likely it seemed that she would do the sensible thing and save herself some embarrassment.
“All the wedding stuff getting to you?” her father asked with a grimace as he carefully navigated the muddy dirt road that led back into town. “Don’t blame you. If I have to hear one more conversation about bouquets and shoes, I think I’ll lose my mind.”
“I have an appointment,” Daisy mumbled, trying to keep her flush under control.
“A what?”
“A . . . a thing. An appointment,” she said. Grabbing her bottled water, she took a thirsty gulp and focused her attention on the passing scenery. The narrow dirt road was lined with thick forest on either side, but once they hit the tar road just outside of town, the view opened up to include ocean. It really was a gorgeous part of the world. It wasn’t called the Garden Route for nothing.
“An appointment? On a Saturday night?” Her father sounded confused, and she sighed.
“It’s a casual thing.”