6. Ava

I'm meticulously savoringmy third round of lime Jell-O—the undisputed champion of hospital desserts—when the door to my room swings open with a gentle creak. A strikingly handsome doctor strolls in, effortlessly blending the charm of the boy next door with a dash of rugged allure. His deep blue eyes, reminiscent of a stormy sea, contrast with his sexy five-o'clock shadow. His dark brown hair, tousled yet somehow perfectly styled, adds to his appeal. He flashes a crooked smile that could light up the darkest rooms and clutches a clipboard that likely holds secrets about my current embarrassing predicament.

The hospital room, with its pale blue walls, feels less sterile with his presence. Normally, I'd flirt in a heartbeat, but considering I'm lying in a crinkled hospital gown that's seen better days, with my hair resembling a bird's nest, I hesitate. Then again, who cares? I can always blame the meds.

"Dr. Dreamy," I quip, my words muffled by a mouthful of Jell-O. Smiling at my own audacity is my second favorite pastime, right after indulging in sarcasm.

"Good morning, Ava," he greets, his voice warm and comforting like a cozy blanket on a snowy night. Instead of standing at the foot of my bed like a typical doctor, he chooses the chair beside me, sinking into it with an oomph. He's built like a bear—all muscle and masculine grace. His lab coat stretches slightly across his broad shoulders, hinting at the strength beneath.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you're feeling better," he observes, a playful edge in his tone as his gaze sweeps over me. He looks at me with possessive eyes I can't read, so I glance out the window and shove more Jell-O in my mouth.

Somewhere outside, a horn honks in the distance. The room, bathed in soft morning light, feels surprisingly cozy for a hospital. I can hear the distant bustle of the ward outside—a comforting reminder of normalcy. I glance at him, taking a moment to appreciate his presence. His approachability is almost as disarming as his crooked smirk.

He has a dimple.

"If I'm honest," I reply after swallowing a spoonful of Jell-O, using my utensil like a makeshift wand, "the last thing I remember is a wolf duo flanking the ambulance doors, and then…nothing. I woke up to the sight of lime Jell-O, which is, by the way, a little slice of heaven." I gesture to the half empty cup, its green hue vibrant against the stark white of the hospital tray.

Dr. Dreamy leans forward, resting his chin on his fist, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "So you don't remember hitting on me then?"

I pause, a flicker of embarrassment crossing my face. "Listen, if it's going to inflate your already noticeable ego, maybe we shouldn't go down that road." I dive back into my Jell-O cup, hiding behind the plastic. The coolness of the dessert is a welcome disparity to the warmth spreading across my cheeks.

His laughter fills the room, easing the tension. "You might be missing a few details from last night."

I can't help but feel a pang of curiosity. "Such as?"

"Well, for starters, the snake that slithered off your neck," he says, watching me closely.

I freeze, my hand instinctively flying to my neck. "Oh no." My voice is a mere whisper. The memory of my pet snake, the slinky, mischievous creature, floods my mind.

"Don't worry," he assures me, his chuckle softening the blow. "That wolf duo? They are part of my bonded pack. Tyler seems to have taken a liking to you. He brought your snake home with him and didn't eat it, surprisingly."

My eyes widen in relief and surprise. "She's an escape artist," I admit quietly, a smile tugging at my lips. The image of my snake, a sleek, pink little thing with eyes full of cunning, flashes before me.

I should feed her to a wolf for the shenanigans she created.

"We figured," he says, a playful glint in his eye. Is he looking at my lips? No, that couldn't be. "Tyler got her home, set up a tank he bought on the way, and by morning, the lid was off and she was gone."

I wince sympathetically. "Yeah, she needs a reinforced lid. High places are her throne. She likes to look down on all her subjects." I scoop up more Jell-O, the tangy taste rushing over my tastebuds. "Did he find her?"

"He did," Dr. Dreamy replies, straightening up. "In the bathtub, of all places."

"That's…surprising," I muse, twirling my spoon. It's unlike her, unless she was thirsty. Sometimes, she's fussy about her water.

"So, Ava…" He shifts gears, tapping the clipboard against his knee. "Aside from our serpentine adventures, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

I brace myself for the medical litany. "Hit me with it."

His expression turns a tad more serious. "Well, you had a whole bookcase fall on you. How did that happen?"

I laugh, sounding more nervous than I intended. "Ah, that would be thanks to Bean, my little pink snake. She climbed the bookshelf, and before you ask, yes, it is possible." It wouldn't be the first time.

"You named your snake Bean?" he asks, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

"Yep, after garbanzo beans. I was eating them while shopping for her online," I explain, a grin spreading across my face.

He nods, clearly amused. "And the bookcase?"

"Oh, that," I say, a sheepish laugh escaping me. "Bean decided to explore the heights of my bookshelf. I, being the resourceful, albeit vertically challenged person I am, tried to retrieve her using a folding chair."

"You did what?" His tone is a mix of disbelief and concern.

I bop him playfully on the nose with my spoon, unable to resist. "Listen, Doctor. I thought I could reach her by stepping on a shelf, but I lost my balance, and both me and the bookcase went down."

He winces sympathetically. "That explains the broken ankle, the snow globe of puppies we had to remove from your thigh, and the two broken ribs."

"That tracks." I sigh, placing the empty Jell-O cup on the tray. "So, Dr. Dreamy, what's next on the recovery agenda?"

"No work for the next six to eight weeks, Ava," Dr. Dreamy states, his deep voice resonating against the sterile walls of the hospital room, his brow furrowed with genuine concern.

"I can't do that," I retort immediately, feeling the familiar surge of responsibility. Eloise and I are the only two who work there, and I'm the only actual vet. There isn't another clinic for miles, and I'm the one everyone relies on for their furry emergencies. "I have to work."

Dr. Dreamy sets his clipboard aside with a resigned sigh. His posture shifts, turning serious. It feels like a silent warning that he's about to wolf out on me, but I'm no cub, and I'm certainly not his.

"Listen, I know you mean well," I say, fluttering my hands in a dismissive gesture. The sterile scent of antiseptic floats in the air, making the room feel even colder and more impersonal. "But I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. Besides, I have until Monday. I'll get one of those knee scooters, and I'll be zooming around in no time. You don't need to worry about me."

His nostrils flare slightly, and his deep blue eyes darken, reminding me of a tumultuous ocean during a storm. It's fascinating. "Ava," he warns, his voice a deep rumble that vibrates through the room.

I'm not one to heed warnings. That's not how I roll. "Doctor?—"

"Dr. Walker." He pauses and coughs. "It's Brody Walker."

"Right, Double-O Doctor," I quip, a smirk playing on my lips, half convinced he's some kind of undercover agent with a name like that. "I appreciate the concern, but my pet patients need me just as much as your human patients need you."

"Ava," he intones, and his voice is so deep, it could probably charm snakes.

Clearly, the meds are weaving their magic, because suddenly, my libido takes center stage. "Brody," I mimic, rolling his name off my tongue.

"You're a real pain in my ass, you know that?" He leans back, a casual smile playing on his lips that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. It's a knowing smile, as if he's privy to a secret about me, and I decide right then that I don't like that smile. Not one bit. "Is that your final answer, Ava?"

The way he says my name makes it sound like a whispered sin, and suddenly, I'm questioning if that really is my final answer. I want him to keep talking, especially to me. "Depends."

He taps the bedside table, a rhythmic sound in the quiet room, and stands up. Without another word, he strides out, leaving me in a whirl of confusion. He just…disappears.

"Well, that was dramatic," I mutter.

"Take a nap, Ava." Dr. Walker's voice drifts back through the door. "You're getting discharged tomorrow, and I suspect you're going to need all your strength."

What in the world does that mean?

"Wait," I shout, pushing my tray aside and swinging a leg over the bed. The room spins slightly, a vivid reminder of why I'm here in the first place.

Instant regret.