That shouldn’t be a revelation. Of course she liked him. It seemed most of the people who knew him liked him.
She loved watching him with patients and their owners. She’d loved hearing his chuckle from his office yesterday when he’d seen the new This Probably Has Dog Hair In It mug on his desk. She’d loved imagining his grin when she’d sent him one of her video messages to tell him about a change to his schedule. She’d made herself look like she had otter ears and a nose and whiskers. She was ninety percent sure he’d at least smiled. Even ninety-five percent sure.
She’d also like to think that she liked most of the men she was attracted to. But this was different. This was a feeling that made her think that she’d like to see him every single day, that if she didn’t, she would miss him, and that even if it wasn’t physical or romantic between them, she wanted to be his friend.
He was a good man. He was grumpy, said no way more often than she liked, and was stubborn as hell. But she really liked him.
“Why did you leave Washington, D.C.?” she asked.
She had been wondering about it since Tori had first mentioned it, but she hadn’t had the chance to ask Griffin yet. Suddenly, she needed to know. She wasn’t just curious now. She felt like she truly needed to know. She wanted to know everything about him.
When the thought hit her, she looked up into his eyes. What was his favorite sports team? What was his favorite breakfast food? What was his favorite color? What was his mom’s name? Did he have a favorite animal?
All of these questions were swirling through her mind all at once, and Charlie was as shocked by them as anyone.
“I got fired.”
His answer to her question stopped those spinning thoughts.
She frowned, studying his face. But as his words sunk in, she realized that maybe she wasn’t shocked.
They seemed like opposites. Where she was outgoing and creative and a little pushy, he seemed serious, introverted, and perpetually annoyed.
But he was very good with his patients’ families and when they had a common concern, he was honest but compassionate. He also had to be creative in a way as well. Just yesterday, he had needed to sweet talk an older woman into fixing her cat after it had delivered its fourth litter of kittens.
He wanted the cat to be healthy while cutting down on the population of unwanted kittens and reducing the number of cats the woman was currently living with. He’d had to find a way to communicate those concerns to the woman in a way she would understand and agree with. He’d finally told her he was looking for someone to foster the kittens people turn over to him. He felt that the mother cat would be excellent at nurturing and teaching other kittens, and he knew the woman would be a fabulous foster mother.
Then, he’d pulled out the big guns. He’d introduced her to a litter of kittens that had been dropped off just two days before. The woman hadn’t stood a chance. Not only had she agreed to the spaying of her adult cats, but she and the kittens had happily gone home together.
Of course, when Charlie had complimented him on the arrangement, he’d said simply, “Now I don’t have to bottle feed a bunch of kittens.”
Charlie had rolled her eyes. Griffin had maybe bottle-fed those kittens at one point or another, but Paige had been coming in on a regular basis to do it. It was how Charlie had first met Paige and found out that she was the otter yoga instructor.
And, along with all the other things they had in common, he could definitely be pushy.
Charlie knew her family thought she had been getting her way on almost every idea. What they didn’t know was that Griffin had shot down her suggestion for selling organic, homemade cat and dog treats in the clinic. He’d also said, “hell no” to the petting zoo acquiring a sloth. He had not just said no to doing the educational talk at the otter enclosure but had declined her idea about selling a calendar with photos of him and various animals featured. He hadn’t even liked the idea that fifty percent of the proceeds could go to the animal charity of his choice.
Of course, the calendar idea had been her teasing him rather than anything serious. Not that she thought it wouldn’t sell like crazy, but she wasn’t so sure she could get twelve smiles out of the guy.
Though he was pretty damn sexy when he didn’t smile too.
And she was still working on the homemade cat and dog treats.
She was also pretty sure he knew that.
“Did it have something to do with the animals?” she asked about him getting fired.
“Yes.”
“And humans doing something that bothered the animals or exploited them somehow?”
“More or less.”
She smiled at him. They had plenty in common. She’d been fired because of a passionate reaction to a horrible behavior. Griffin’s situation was similar.
“Tell me the story,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter.”
She took a step forward, bringing them mere inches apart. She put her hand on his chest. His shirt was still damp, but the skin underneath was hot, and she was immediately warmed by the touch. Though, a lot of that heat was coming from her as well.
“It matters to me,” she said softly.
Emotion flared in his eyes. He lifted a hand to cover hers where it rested over his heart. She felt the drumming under her palm and knew hers matched. He didn’t move her hand. He simply rested his on top of hers.
“This is what I’m talking about.” His voice was rough.
“What do you mean?”
“You can’t help being tempting.”
Charlie felt like she just downed a shot of her grandpa’s moonshine—warm all the way through her body, tingly to her toes, and a little dizzy.
“Yeah, well, ditto.” She curled her fingers into the damp cotton stretched over hard muscles. “You know my story. I want to know yours.”
“Aren’t you cold? You got drenched.”
She shook her head and wet her lips. “Definitely not cold.” She paused. “How about you?”
His thumb stroked across the back of her knuckles, where her hand was still resting on his chest. “No. Not cold.”
“Tell me.”
He took a breath and then slowly blew it out. “Let’s sit.”
Charlie liked that idea. It indicated that his story might be more than just a sentence. She looked around and spotted a hay bale and a big, plastic bucket they used for feed. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand from his and went to the bucket. She turned it over and dropped onto it like a stool. She gestured toward the hay bale.
“Have a seat.”
To her mild surprise and definite pleasure, he did. He sat on the hay bale facing her, elbows on his thighs, his big hands dangling between his knees. It took a few seconds for him to speak. “I was in charge of the tiger propagation program,” he started. “We very much wanted to have a Sumatran tiger cub but were having very little luck. The female tiger didn’t want to mate with any of the males, and none of the males were, for whatever reason, strong enough to convince her otherwise.”
Charlie smiled. “Discerning tastes. I can respect that.”
“Yes, well, when you’re an endangered species, you shouldn’t be quite so picky.”
“Maybe she just didn’t want to be a wife and mom.”