Golden Luckenbooth

Thirty-One

"Morning!" I yell out the front door of the clinic to the band of fans today. I know I expected fans, but I can't say that I ever pictured a particular number. Somehow I thought there would be a day or two with maybe hundreds or thousands of them swarming around the place, but so far, the most we've had out front is about twenty at a time. Even on cold, rainy or snowy days, we have at least seven or eight. Sometimes a new client will bring in a pet, and it's obvious that the client is trying to catch a glimpse of Harry or learn more about me based on how far they've travelled and what's really wrong with their pet.

For his part, Harry is usually only hanging out around the clinic when he knows Arran is also working. The jealous version of Harry might be endearing to some people, but I'm not one of them. It's annoying how he gets in the way just because Arran is around.

Like now.

"I'm going to grab the Pekinese we did the gastrotomy on to see how he's doing this morning," Arran says, his hands on my waist to steady me as he slides behind me towards the dog's cage in the back.

"Why do you let him do that?" My boyfriend crosses his arms and leans against the front counter, quirking an eyebrow and sounding decidedly pissy.

"Do what? Check on a patient after we opened his stomach to remove a sock that was blocking his digestive tract?" When he simply humphs, I stand in front of him. He doesn't adjust his position in the slightest — arms still crossed in that pouty way. Rising on my tiptoes, I wait for him to move his head closer to me so I can kiss him, but he doesn't shift one iota. "Oh, we're playing that game, are we?" I inquire as I lower my feet flat on the floor and start to walk away.

Harry quickly snakes his hand out, hooking my waist as he yanks me to him and kisses me. His leg slides between mine, and it only takes a slight adjustment for me to settle my core on his thigh. Teeth nibble, and the second my lips part, his tongue sweeps inside. The arm clamped around my back applies a slight pressure downwards, and I find myself happily riding his quadricep as my mouth clings to his, allowing him to ravage me in the lobby of my veterinary clinic.

A cleared throat behind us should be a signal that causes us to separate or jump apart guiltily. Lazily, I open my eyes, my lips still attached to those of my boyfriend, and twist my head to Arran in an attempt to shame him for interrupting.

"You think you can shock me?" My intern smiles. "You're still fully clothed, so..."

Harry growls, and I know he's bothered by the idea of Arran picturing me in anything less than a head to toe muumuu – preferably with a chastity belt in place and the top buttoned to my chin. Still, not to be interrupted, Harry nips at my lips a few more times as he straightens my doctor's coat and removes his thigh from where it was propping me up.

I nearly fall over.

How could this man think I'd be even remotely attracted to Arran when HE is in my presence? My entire being is consumed with Mr. Styles. I've no time or energy to consider Arran as anything other than a disturbance, especially right this second.

"The incision is clean, and the stitches look solid. Do you want to take a look before I call the client to pick him up?"

"I suppose I should check since you're under my tutelage and using my clinic's name for your work." Head held high, I march past both men, my back ramrod straight. At the door to the exam room, I twist my head to glance at Harry.

The hunger in his eyes makes me stumble. Which causes Arran to reach out an arm to stop me from falling. Which, naturally, puts Harry in another tizzy.

"Anna!" He yells, reaching out with one arm as though I'm about to fall down a deep chasm and be lost forever.

"I'm fine, Harry," I state calmly, waving him off.