later wouldn’t matter, but if she was tongue-tied and scatterbrained when she met him, she’d embarrass herself. So she let Heather precede her.
* * *
“HEY, ENRIQUE,” HEATHER greeted Rick in a pleasant singsong voice.
He waved goodbye to the tech, who’d been grilling him about his chances of becoming a police officer, and turned his attention to the receptionist. He generally didn’t like to be called by his full given name—it reminded him too much of his childhood in Mexico—but Heather preferred it, and he’d stopped trying to dissuade her.
“I’m sorry we’ve kept you waiting. Madison had a bit of a...an incident with a patient and had to clean up. She’ll see you and Sniff any minute now.” Her face sobered. “I’m so very sorry to hear about Jeff. Please give his family our condolences.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” It hadn’t gotten easier to deal with Jeff’s death, despite the passage of several days.
“What have you got there?” She gestured to the duffel he’d rested on the floor beside his feet.
Rick felt the heat rise to his face. “Just stuff,” he mumbled. “So I understand Madison’s taking over from Jane for our dogs.”
“Uh-huh,” Heather responded. She walked around the reception desk to return to her station.
Rick leaned on the counter. He wasn’t at all perturbed about Madison’s being late. It gave him a chance to question Heather about the new vet. Heather obviously didn’t realize he and Madison had already met. There was no reason she would have, he reminded himself. Unless the part-time receptionist had told Heather he’d been in, she’d have no way of knowing that he was the one who’d brought Zeke. Even though he’d called about Zeke a few times, Heather must have assumed he was checking up on one of the unit’s dogs. Her not knowing gave him the advantage. “Has Madison worked with police dogs before?” he began.
Heather sat down behind her desk. “You know, I’m not sure. She moved here a few months ago from Texas. She must have some experience. They wouldn’t have assigned her to care for the SDPD’s canines if she wasn’t qualified. Logan wouldn’t have approved, either,” she added. “You’d have to ask Madison about her experience.”
“Is she good?” He’d concluded that she was, based on what she’d done for Zeke, but he was curious about what Heather had to say. Working with Madison would give her a different point of view. The more he’d thought about it, the more he recognized the skill and calm resolve it must have taken to save Zeke. He was anxious to see him, after Sniff’s examination.
Before Heather had a chance to answer, he heard soft footsteps behind him.
“I’ll let you be the judge of that.” Heather motioned toward the hallway. “Here’s Madison now.”
“Great. Thank...” Rick looked over his shoulder, and whatever else he was going to say escaped him. He felt his mouth go dry. Sure, he’d met her before, but he must not have been seeing clearly at the time. He certainly hadn’t been thinking clearly. He’d remembered her as attractive but not drop-dead gorgeous. She was wearing a lab coat again, a blue one this time, yet her curves were evident. Today, she had her hair in a thick braid, hanging over one shoulder. Even braided, the mass of it hung well down toward her waist. Instead of greeting him, she stood still, her lips slightly parted, shock on her face. It was almost as if she hadn’t been expecting him—or had forgotten that she’d met him.
He took a step forward, Sniff trailing him, and smiled. “Are you ready for us?”
She gave a slight shake of her head, not so much to indicate no, but almost as if clearing her mind of whatever had preoccupied her. Before she could say anything, Heather filled the silence.
“Madison, this is Sergeant Enrique Vasquez, aka Pitbull, and his canine partner, Sniff.”
“Officer Rick,” Madison said with frost in her voice, and Rick’s smile faded. Apparently, she wasn’t inclined to let bygones be bygones.
“You’ve met?” Heather asked, obviously confused.
“Yes,” they responded in unison.
Heather glanced from one stern face to the other and backed up. “Okay, then. I’ll just get back to work.”
Madison gave Rick one more long, hard look before stepping forward and bending down to greet Sniff. Her features softened; the dog’s good nature must have won her over. By the time she straightened and extended a hand to Rick, the reserve had returned.
“As you know, I’m Madison Long,” she said in a perfunctory manner, putting the emphasis on know, and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Follow me, please.”
Rick tapped his thigh, and had Sniff heeling next to him as he followed her. Madison’s braid swung across her back with each step she took. Glancing at Heather, he saw her bemused expression and wondered what had caused it. Then he noticed the duffel he’d forgotten and rushed back to grab it before joining Madison.
“How’s Zeke?” was the first thing he asked when they were in the examination room.
“He’s coming along nicely.”
“That’s terrific. Can I see him when we’re done here?”
“Of course,” she said, gathering everything she needed for Sniff’s exam.
She was being professional and courteous, but there was a distinct remoteness in her voice and demeanor. Conscious of the duffel in his right hand, he wondered how smart an idea that was. “The unit’s retiring Zeke,” he offered as an olive branch.
Her hands stilled and she gave him a contemplative look before nodding, but her cool formality remained as she opened a cabinet to get additional supplies. There was something...out of character about her expression. The lines bracketing her mouth were a dead giveaway that she laughed more than she frowned. He shifted the duffel from one hand to the other, then placed it on a chair in the corner of the room. “Look, I’m sorry for the way I acted when we first met.”
She turned back to him, and he saw the surprise on her face.
“It was a hell of a day. Zeke being hurt wasn’t all of it.”
“I heard on the news that an officer was shot...and that he passed away... I’m sorry...” Her voice rang with sincerity and compassion.
“Yeah. Jeff didn’t make it.” Rick broke eye contact, reached down and stroked Sniff’s back. The grief was still too raw. The dog raised his head, tongue lolling, adoration in his eyes that never failed to melt Rick’s heart.
“What will happen to Zeke?” Madison interrupted his thoughts.
Rick’s eyes lifted to hers and he could see she was moved, too. The fact that she seemed to care about Jeff and about Zeke said a lot about her. “Jeff’s family—his wife and son—want to keep Zeke. Zeke mattered to Jeff and is therefore important to his family.” He cleared his throat with a small cough and changed the subject to a more practical matter. “SDPD will pick up the cost of Zeke’s treatment and rehabilitation. Whatever it takes, just do what’s best for him. We’ll help the family with some retraining so Zeke can adapt to being a pet. Jeff was a good cop...a good man. He’ll be missed and not just by his family.”
“I’m so sorry,” Madison repeated in a whisper, and briefly rested a hand on his forearm.
“Thanks.” The sense of loss and futility, the sudden rush of emotion, was threatening to strangle Rick. He coughed again to try to cover up his feelings, but the sorrow was backing up in his throat. He grabbed his duffel and held it out to her. “We got off on the wrong foot the other day. I brought you something. Sort of a peace offering.”
Her gaze slid from his eyes to the black, well-worn bag and back. “You’re giving me a used gym bag?”
His nervous, amused laughter burst forth. He wasn’t usually this