Holding Rachel’s bright yellow dishtowel under Chester’s saliva-dripping mouth, I panicked at the morphed sounds he was making. “Hang in there, dude.”
I shifted him in my arms then slammed on the metal bell some more. “Does anyone work here?”
“Can I help?” A male voice came from behind me.
“Yes, this dog got into my purse and—” I paused mid-sentence as my gaze met dark gray eyes that sent a bolt of adrenaline through me. My heart flipped in my chest. Not an appropriate reaction when Rach’s dog could be dying. “I-I think he ate something toxic. Maybe my lip-gloss? Are you the vet? Can you give him that charcoal stuff to make him barf it up?”
He studied Chester’s half-open mouth. “Try setting him down. I’ll take a look.”
“Thanks.” I knelt, still holding the towel under his mouth—because, ew, slobber all over the place.
The vet dropped to his knees next to Chester and pried his little jaw open.
As he examined the dog’s throat, I couldn’t help checking him out. There was something going on behind those dark eyes that had me dying to learn everything about him. Where he was from, what made him tick, what he looked for in a girl . . .
My pulse slammed into overdrive.
Weird that the vet was wearing sweats, though. Maybe he’d finished with his last patient and was going for a run? Definitely looked like a guy who worked out regularly. Yeah, that’s what I should be thinking about while my friend’s dog was gagging for his life. What was wrong with me? Focus, Ellen. “Can you save him?”
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