Page 18 of Lord of Ruin
And I’d almost been mugged. Well, technically I had been, but I’d kept my purse even though the asshole thug had given me a black eye and sore ribs. I’d learned that day that no valuables were worth losing my life, but I was still grateful I hadn’t lost my two precious credit cards and personal identity. Even the horrible experience hadn’t dampened my love of the city.
But never had I felt like I was being followed or stalked as I had the entire time I’d ridden the subway car or walking the four short blocks to the clinic. I’d seen no one, including the person I’d been certain was standing across the street from the coffee shop. I also hadn’t seen the handsome stranger anywhere. Perhaps the reason I was still feeling icky, goosebumps shooting down my arms was because of all the juice joints in the New York City area, the mysterious, sexy man had found the one I was sitting in. Granted, there was a luxurious hotel across the street, which seemed like the kind of place he’d secure if he was an out of towner, but even that remained to be seen.
What if he was local and I would have this feeling for days, weeks, or even months? I shuddered as I opened the door, thrilled to see my new assistant was already inside.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I said to her as I walked inside. She’d already turned on the speaker system, the soothing music putting a smile on my face. She’d also flicked on all the lights, adjusting the pictures that had been knocked around in the evening of disturbances and was ready and waiting for our first client.
“You did a great job,” she said. She’d only seen the place twice during her interviews and the entire office had appeared like a disaster area. The last time had only been a week before. “I love the colors. And the pictures of the little babies are amazing.”
I’d been determined to open when I’d said I would on my Facebook page.
The scent of coffee was in the air. Now I was grateful I’d purchased a Keurig machine for those waiting to be served. Everything was just… perfect.
Except my mind. I was still unable to get the man from the night before out of the private space in my head. A strange cold shiver drifted down my spine. I knew what victims experienced when the shock wore off. I realized that I could be in a third phase of being a victim, the recovery daunting at best. But I refused to succumb to such bullshit. I was stronger than that.
“I think it works,” I told her as I headed for my tiny office. While it was the size of a shoebox, it was the place where I could check on patients and file notes on their conditions. And where I could close the door and just be me for a little while.
I tossed my purse into the bottom drawer of my desk, taking a deep breath and running my fingers through my ponytail. I was rip-roaring ready to go.
I checked my watch. The first client of the day was due at any time.
Thankfully, I’d taken the time to clean up the mess from the night before, except for taking out the trash. However, the last thing I’d wanted to do after being attacked was head into the darkened alley just after midnight. I rolled my eyes. Fear was going to remain a horrible factor for at least a few days.
“Are our appointments still on the books?” I asked as I returned to the reception area, studying the dozen or so seats that were crammed together for the human parents of my furry patients. All two of them.
“I’m sorry. There was one cancellation on the machine this morning and another called in right after I’d gotten here.”
“So we don’t have anyone scheduled for today?” I was already feeling as if the good luck I’d hoped to have had just been sucked down the toilet.
“I’m afraid so.”
“Great. Just great. Well, let’s see what happens for the next couple of hours.” You can do this. Just a slow start. Chin up, girlfriend.
“Don’t worry, Doctor Kilborne. I am sure you’re an amazing vet and your reputation is going to get out in the community fast.”
Her bright eyes and hopeful demeanor made me smile, even though at this moment I couldn’t share her vote of confidence. “I’ll be in my office if you need me, or anyone drops in. And Kerri, please call me Jenna. We’re not going to be that formal around here.”
Someone just dropping in? Not likely.
Suddenly, I had the distinct feeling I’d feel mighty cramped inside the shoebox.
“You got it, Jenna.”
Why was her voice that chipper?
Thirty minutes passed without a single phone call. Then one hour. Finally, the phone rang and the excitement that tore through me was like a lightning bolt, or a cattle prod had been stuck under me.
You mean like the electricity you felt with the dark, handsome stranger?
Uh, no. Two entirely different things.
Sadly, when the caller turned out to be nothing but a solicitor, I was beginning to lose hope.
Another hour passed and I was ready to grab a bottle of wine and hide under my covers. It almost felt as if the lettering spelling failure had been branded across my forehead.
I moved to the doorway, leaning against it. “Well, I think today is a bust. Why don’t you go ahead and get out of here?”
“Are you sure?”