White Picket Fences. Tara Quinn Taylor
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come to terms with her sexuality. She’d risked everything for the chance to not be alone.
“And what if you’re more comfortable with the status quo?” Randi asked.
“Of course you’re more comfortable,” Barbara said. “Who wouldn’t be? It’s what you’re familiar with, what you know.”
“And you think that’s wrong?”
“Not necessarily. Not if comfortable is enough for you.”
“And if it isn’t?” Randi wasn’t sure one way or the other; she just wanted to be aware of all the possibilities.
“Then you have a long—uncomfortable—road ahead of you.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FOLLOWING MONDAY, almost two weeks after her not-quite-successful date with Zack Foster, the Montford Pet Therapy Club held its first meeting. Several creative excuses for missing the get-together entertained Randi on and off throughout that day.
Maybe her Jeep was in the shop and if she didn’t pick it up by four o’clock, she couldn’t have it until the next day and then she’d have no way to get to work in the morning. Or to escape her home that evening in case of some dire emergency.
She worked on that one for quite a while, coming up with different angles, but eventually dismissed it. Her Jeep was brand-new, for one thing; she had no intention of depriving herself of its use, for another—even if that meant she had to see Zack Foster again.
She’d have claimed a sick dog or cat or fish she had to rush home to, except the reason that wouldn’t work was obvious. If she was going to make a fool of herself with an asinine excuse, it had to at least be one that would fly.
The sick-grandmother thing was overused. Emergency baby-sitting might be good if there weren’t about a thousand substitutes for her services in this town full of college students.
She had cramps.
That might be true, but absolutely none of Zack Foster’s business.
She was allergic to animals? But then why hadn’t she mentioned that from the outset? And wasn’t that something her brother would’ve known before assigning her this ridiculous advisorship to begin with?
Still trying to come up with something at the last second, Randi locked her office early and headed toward the room in the student center that was to be the location of the dreaded meeting.
Why in hell couldn’t there have been a tennis match that afternoon? Or a track meet? Or anything else that could even remotely pass as something that required her professional attention? Where were all the millions of things that took up every spare second of Randi’s time on any other day?
Ten students were waiting in the room when Randi arrived. Ten students oohing and ahhing and making friends with the two canines drooling on the gray-tiled floor. Ten students, two drooling canines—and Zack Foster.
He looked as good as Randi remembered. Damn him. And damn her for noticing that, instead of inventing a plausible excuse.
“You’re late,” the man said when he noticed her hovering at the back of the room.
Only ten minutes. That wasn’t bad.
“I know.”
His eyes locked on her briefly and he looked as though he had more to say.
Randi just stood there.
“Meet Sammie and Bear,” he finally said, indicating the furry masses holding court at his feet.
Glancing at them and then away, Randi turned to the students, instead.
“Okay, gang, let’s all have a seat and figure out who we’ve got and what we’re doing.”
One of the first things she’d learned in life was to pretend she was always in control—even when she’d never felt less in control. Especially then.
SHE HADN’T GOTTEN any worse-looking in the two weeks since he’d seen her, Zack thought as he leashed Sammie and Bear and stood waiting while Randi got the meeting under way. If anything, she looked even more desirable than he’d remembered. With her cropped blond hair, that narrow waist and those firm legs that went on forever outside those indecently tight shorts she’d worn two out of the three times he’d seen her—didn’t the university pay her enough to afford longer pants?—she’d cause any red-blooded guy to take a second look.
There was nothing wrong with looking.
“So, if you’re all comfortable with the time commitment, I need to have you sign here, leave me a phone number and, if you’re living on campus, your dorm. If you’re off campus, put your address here…”
She turned the clipboard she was holding so they could all see the various lines on the form and then passed it, and a pen, to the young man closest to her.
Damn, but she made running shoes seem sexy. Something about the way she moved in them…
Leaning down to Sammie and Bear, one hand on each of them as he scratched behind their ears, Zack shook his head to free himself from distracting thoughts. He was there to do a job. A worthy and necessary job to which he was honestly dedicated.
Finding running shoes sexy was kind of sick.
Sammie licked his cheek just as Zack saw Randi look in his direction, her upper lip curled slightly in distaste. She resumed talking to the students.
“In just a moment I’ll be turning the meeting over to Dr. Zack Foster. He’s a veterinarian here in Shelter Valley. He and his partner are establishing pet-therapy programs similar to this one in universities all over the country, apparently with a great deal of success. I’m sure he’ll tell you some of the stories….”
At least she’d done her homework. Zack was impressed.
He only had to see her on five occasions throughout the semester. And he’d have animals with him every time. He’d be safe.
“Ms. Parsons is right,” Zack began when the floor was his. “My partner, Dr. Cassie Tate, and I have been visiting universities throughout the country. But I’m in charge of this portion of our pet-therapy program.”
Although he refused to actually look at her, he followed Randi’s progress as she moved to the back of the room and perched on one of the desks. Sammie sat beside him, watching the students as though she was in the know. Bear lay down under a desk, his head on his paws.
“Dr. Tate is involved in a very serious aspect of our work. In partnership with psychiatrists across the country, she works on problems with a much bigger scope than we’ll encounter. She and her specially trained animals deal with patients who have emotional disorders and mental illnesses—people who are clinically depressed, bipolar, that type of thing.”
In spite of himself, he glanced up at his partner in this particular venture, wondering if she’d revised her assumption yet that they were all wasting their time in believing animals could help in the treatment of real human distress.
She was studying her shoes, tapping them silently on the chair in front of her. At least she wasn’t asleep. There was a chance she was listening.
Not that her opinion of his work mattered at all.
He and Cassie had met opposition on more than one occasion, but opposition didn’t intimidate him in the slightest. The success of their work spoke for itself.
He returned his attention to the eager faces before him. “We’ll be working strictly with the elderly,” he told them, briefly describing the different homes they’d visit.
Sammie stood, realized she was still on her leash and sat down again.
“Are we going to be working with these dogs?” One of the girls, a short slightly heavy girl with long dark hair, asked.
Zack nodded.