“Ohmygod.” Her eyes darted to Aiden. “I went into the marsh to save this dog and nearly drowned. Liar over there rescued us.”
Aiden’s brows knitted. “You almost drowned? Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” Cait reassured him.
“Thank God. I’m glad Brant was there.” Aiden reached out to pet Scrappy, and amusement rose in his eyes. “Better watch your comments, Brant. You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”
“I wouldn’t mind getting into a little trouble with Cait.” He winked at her.
Cait shook her head. “We’re taking Scrappy to the vet.”
“Scrappy? He’s a cutie,” Aiden said.
“Do you think Abby would mind if I keep him?” she asked.
“Abby’s a sucker for animals,” Aiden said. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”
“Great. See you later,” Cait said.
They headed to the vet’s office, and as they walked up to the door, Cait said, “Maybe I should wait out here.”
“Why?”
“So you can flirt with Whitney without me hanging around.”
“I told you I was charming her, not flirting with her.”
He pulled open the door and waved her in. He went to the reception desk, where Whitney, one of his mother’s friends, who was probably in her late fifties, smiled up at him. Cait’s brows furrowed.
“I’m glad you made it in time,” Whitney said, coming around the desk to hug him. “How’s your mama? I didn’t see her at bunco the other night.”
His mother played cards with a number of the women on the island. “She’s doing well. I think my dad surprised her with a night out. You can take up the timing with him.” He put a hand on Cait’s lower back. “Whitney, this is my friend Cait Weatherby. She’s the one who found the dog.”
“Cait Weatherby,” Whitney said warmly. “You’re Ava’s daughter. It is a pleasure to meet you, dear. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too,” Cait said a little nervously.
“I’ll just ring Davis and let him know you’re here.”
As Whitney went around to the other side of the desk and picked up the phone, Brant noticed Cait’s arm sliding anxiously across her stomach. He took her by the elbow, guiding her away from Whitney, and lowered his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Cait said.
He held her gaze. “I’m buying that about as much as you’ll buy that I don’t want to go out with you.” He softened his tone. “What’s going on?”
“It’s just a little weird meeting people who knew Ava better than I did. I’m never sure if I should say I’d never met her or not.”
“I can see how that would be uncomfortable.” Everyone on the island was quick with kindness, whether it be condolences, congratulations, or simply saying hello on the sidewalk. “Maybe it’ll help to know that there’s a good chance everyone on this part of the island knew Ava, and given how fast gossip spreads, they probably already know you never met her.”
“You think?” she asked with a hint of relief.
“Yeah, I do. In any case, you shouldn’t worry too much about if they know or not. You’re here now, and you’re part of our community. That’s what matters most. The people here just want to welcome you and let you know they care. That’s a good thing.”
Her eyes darted to Davis Barrington coming down the hall in his white lab coat. He was a year older than Brant, an avid outdoorsman, and looked more like a surfer than a veterinarian, with thick blond hair and perfect teeth that belonged in a Crest commercial.
“Thanks for fitting us in,” Brant said, shaking his hand.
“No problem.” Davis’s expression brightened as he turned to Cait. “We have to stop meeting like this or we’ll be the talk of the town.”
She smiled confidently, so different from the way she smiled at Brant. “It’s nice to see you again. How did it go with the anxious shepherd?”
What the hell? She knew about his work? Brant had never been a jealous guy, but there was no denying the claws climbing up the back of his neck.
“He did fine, but he was back again a few days ago. This time he swallowed a sock.” Davis scratched Scrappy between his ears. “This is the dog you found in the marsh?”
“He’s ours,” Brant said, putting his hand possessively on Cait’s back.
Davis ran his eyes between them. “Got it. Why don’t we go check him out, scan him for an identification chip, and see what we’re dealing with?”
Brant was stuck for far too long listening to Davis chat up Cait as he checked out Scrappy and ran tests. They learned that Scrappy had not been chipped, was probably five or six years old, and was undernourished but otherwise appeared to be in good shape. Brant was relieved about the dog and jealous as hell over Cait’s ease with Davis. He’d give anything for her to talk that easily with him.
He stewed over that as they headed to Salty Paws for pet supplies. Brant didn’t believe in stewing any more than he believed in hiding his feelings, and his curiosity magnified as they picked out crates, dog beds, brushes, bowls, and other paraphernalia for his cottage and Cait’s apartment. By the time they began weeding through collars, he was ready to burst.
He needed answers and tried to sound casual when he said, “So, you and Davis seemed pretty tight.”
She shrugged. “Not really. Why?”
“Just curious.”
She arched a brow. “Curious?”
“Yeah, you know. We share Scrappy now. I figured I should know if some other guy’s going to be hanging around him.”
She laughed and shook her head, going back to leafing through the collars. “You’re ridiculous.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I sound a little ridiculous to myself, too, but what can I say? It bugs me that you seem nervous when we’re together, but you’re an open book around Davis. What’s up with that?” Sometimes he hated the way honesty flew from his lips, but his parents were open communicators and had raised all of their children to value honesty, loyalty, and hard work—but never so much work that they lost sight of the more important things in life, like family, friends, and their own need to decompress.
“Pfft. I’m not an open book around anyone. I know Davis from the Bistro.” She held up a thin blue collar with a charm hanging from it. “Do you like this one?”
“It’s kind of too perfect, don’t you think? But I guess if you like pretty boys.”
She tried to give him a deadpan look, but laughter bubbled out. “Are you talking about Davis or Scrappy?”
“You really do have Davis on the brain, don’t you? I was talking about our pup.”
“Yeah, right.” She put the collar back, and without looking at him, she said, “Davis does come across a bit pretty, doesn’t he?”
“Lots of girls dig him. He’s a great guy, if you’re into guys like that . . .”
Her eyes darted briefly to Brant. “I’m not looking for a guy.”
“Good, because you’ve already got the best man on the island,” he said cockily, pointing both thumbs at himself.