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Olivia swallowed, wondering if he was being sarcastic.
“And since your mom risked...well, not life, but certainly limb, we ought to dig in.” He looked over at Olivia, not a trace of sarcasm or meanness in his expression. “Right-or left-handed?”
“Right.”
“Good thing the burn’s on your left, then.”
Well, if Zeke didn’t think she was a hopeless klutz from the lost-chicks episode the day before, he must now. Awkwardly she placed the bowl on the table beside one of the plates. Perhaps for an encore she could dump coffee in her lap.
“How many pancakes, Olivia?”
“One, thanks.”
Zeke’s eyebrows rose. “Not too confident about my cooking?”
“No.” Flustered, she stirred the water in the bowl with her fingers. “I mean, I’m not all that hungry.”
Tilting his head in the direction of the fully stacked platter, he sent her a look of disapproval. “Better eat more than one.”
“She doesn’t eat much anymore,” Joey commented, digging into his own pancakes.
The innocent but painful reminder made her freeze.
Silence filled the room. Only the scraping of Joey’s fork against the plate as he ate interrupted the quiet.
Zeke met her gaze, his eyes filled with questions and a touch of sympathy.
Olivia bowed her head.
But Zeke’s intense perusal didn’t waver.
Swallowing, she tried to pick up her fork—anything to distract herself and him. Forgetting the bowl of water, she lifted that hand as well, splashing water on the table.
“Watch it!” Joey complained. “You’re getting water on my pancakes!”
Zeke tossed him a paper towel. “You’ll live.”
Joey rolled his eyes.
No doubt her son was thinking how unfair it was that there were two sets of rules, one for adults, one for kids, Olivia realized. But certainly more compelling was the look in Zeke’s eyes. She didn’t want pity. Was there something more in his gaze? Something that didn’t reside in that sorrowful tier of emotions?
Ted had been the center of her life, the anchor that had begun to make her believe she could belong. Just like anyone else. That she wasn’t destined to always be an outsider. When he died, all that had disappeared.
And it would take far more than a disarming veterinarian with unforgettable blue eyes for her to recover.
Chapter Five
“Hold still,” Zeke ordered.
Squirming in a chair in the exam room, Olivia tried again to pull her burned hand away. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything on it.”
“Aloe vera straight from the plant. Can’t believe you never tried it for burns.”
“I’m not a native Texan,” she replied, still trying to inch backward. “They don’t usually pull out thorny plants at an army infirmary to treat wounds.”
“Humor me.” Man, she was prickly. You’d think he was trying to amputate instead of prevent blisters. “Why don’t you go home, wait a few days till this heals to help around here?”
Her already-perfect posture squared into a frame that rivaled a ballroom dancer’s. “I’m not a fragile china doll. I’ve finished a hike with a fractured ankle, ridden the rapids with a pulled shoulder and walked five miles after a snakebite. A little hot syrup’s not going to stop me.”
“Impressive. I thought it was your dad who was in the army. Sounds like you trained for Special Forces.”
“That’s what army families are,” she admitted, then snapped her mouth closed, uncomfortable with the admission.
He deftly wrapped a nonstick pad with self-adhering gauze to her hand, covering the reddened skin. “I imagine it goes with being in the military.”
“You can’t begin to imagine moving from place to place without any notice, barely time to say goodbye, never knowing where you’ll end up.”
Zeke’s caustic snort remained inside. No, how would he know what it was like to be bounced from home to home?
She sighed, running her other hand through her honey-blond hair. “Sorry. It’s one of my easily pushed buttons, the army-brat experience. And I’m so worried about Joey. Ever since his dad died...” She shrugged, a halfhearted motion that lifted only one shoulder. “I fell apart. If my parents hadn’t held things together, I’d hate to think how much worse our situation could be. But Joey and I...” She paused, the seconds passing slowly, so slowly he could hear the neighing of horses in the corral, the low meowing of cats in the next room. “Joey and I have always had such a close bond. Ted was his hero, but I’m the one who baked cookies for him after school, bandaged scraped knees, made his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches...” She trailed off.
Zeke remained silent, guessing she needed to talk.
“I never expected Joey to act like he has. Now he won’t talk to me.” Olivia’s head snapped up, her face drawn in dismay. “I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. Point is, I’m tougher than I look.” She pulled her hand back. “And I can do my fair share of work around here.” She held up her now-bandaged hand. “No special consideration needed.”
There was plenty of determination in her violet eyes but so much wariness he wondered which would win. “If you insist that you’re okay to work, you can start with walking the patients in post-op.”
Olivia frowned. “Dogs? You want me to walk dogs? That’s not work.”
“Here it is. Getting them moving is part of the recuperation process.”
She looked dubious.
“Just like people who’ve had surgery.” Zeke stood, placing the first-aid kit on a lower shelf, then made himself not smile when he turned around. “What were you expecting to do on the first day? Surgery? Deliver a calf? Or something simple like drawing blood?”
Olivia didn’t look amused.
Puzzled, Zeke drew his eyebrows together. “Lighten up. We get enough serious stuff to worry about here. And the dogs and cats in post-op are confused and miss their owners. It’s important enough.”
Olivia’s expression softened. “Of course. I wasn’t thinking.” Again she twisted her blond hair around one finger.
Morning light pooled through the window and he had an immediate desire to reach out and see if Olivia’s hair was as soft as it looked.
“You’re the boss,” she continued with an impish glint to her expression. “I’d love to walk dogs.” Her smile suddenly disappeared. “But what if they don’t like me?”
“Why shouldn’t they?”
“Well, I don’t know anything about animals and I’ve read they can sense that.”
Zeke chuckled. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not walking lions or tigers. Come on, let’s get started.”
Olivia looked out the window to where Joey was helping Angie with the morning feed.
“Joey’s fine.” Zeke pushed the rolling stool back to its usual corner, then opened the connecting door to the kennels. “Each animal has a chart. You note when you take him out and when you return. Also any output.”
“Output?” She pinkened, then cleared her throat. “Oh, of course.”
“We’ll start you out with a dog who had routine surgery and is doing well.” He pointed toward a back wall. “That’s our ICU. All of their exercise is closely monitored, and either Angie or I will work with them.”
She turned to the back wall. “I only see one dog and a cat.”
“Thankfully. I like it best when it’s empty.”
Olivia nodded in agreement. “Of course. Just trying to take everything in.”
And she was. From the feeding stations to the surgical equipment to the small assortment of kenneled animals.
Zeke stopped at the first crate. They were built so that if needed, one animal could be held in the top portion, a second in the bottom. He liked it best when they were at eye level. Pets were less likely to get agitated when they could see their surroundings. He unfastened the crate so that the soft-eyed cocker spaniel could be retrieved. “This is Scratches.”
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