3. Briar

Damn.He'd slipped up.

After the disastrous incident at the door, Briar thought he'd done a decent job of getting his own back.He usually enjoyed playing into the stereotype that he couldn't tell a Philips from a flathead,but it had been oddly satisfying to prove himself in front of a man who so clearly expected the worst from him.Maybe he wasn't Mr. Fix-It, but he could take out a battery even without Derek's surprisingly patient instruction.

But with just one accidental flinch, he was relegated back to a chickenshit.A single backstep before he could get control of his lizard brain, putting some distance between him and Derek"s looming mountain of muscle, and Derek had instantly noticed.

The other man's body went perfectly still, like he was even trying to breathe non-threateningly.It didn't work. He reminded Briar of a panther he used to visit at the Oregon Zoo.It used to freeze in exactly the same way, but the fixated look in its eyes was always hungry, and Briar was the prey.

Of course, Briar was all skin and bones.He'd make a terrible meal, literally and figuratively. Besides, this man's eyes were green, not panther gold.But they were the brightest, sharpest green he'd ever seen outside of photoshop, and they were sizing him up inch by inch.

Briar swallowed hard. His heart was racing and his palms were damp.He wiped them surreptitiously on his pants, and for the first time, properly looked his fill at Derek Owens.He"d been trying to steal furtive glances ever since the lights came back on, but it wasn"t easy to get a clear read after he"d posted up in the corner.

The man's face was like stone.Not ugly, but not exactly attractive.His features were rough, with broad, sharp edges like they had been carved with a sledgehammer rather than a chisel.Judging by the large, painful-looking knot on the bridge, his nose had been broken more than once.His hair was lank and dark from the rain, dripping down the collar of his sodden jacket, and his lips were pale.

He must be freezing, Briar thought sympathetically.

Briar always kept an emergency bag with a change of clothes at work, but this guy didn't have anything like that, and he'd been out in the storm much longer.The weatherproof canvas of his jacket could only do so much.

"This is going to be a while.You should take off that wet jacket," he suggested impulsively. "There are some dry towels in the cabinet over your left shoulder.Why don't you grab one? I'll start a pot of coffee to warm us up."

Derek"s expression was hostile."I'm fine. Just do your damn job."

"Working on it." Briar's eyes narrowed."It doesn't take much extra effort to be nice, you know."

"I don't need you to be nice." He sounded like he meant it.There was something dismissive in his tone, like kindness toward him was a waste of time."I just need you to make her better."

Briar's mouth worked soundlessly, zipping through a few smartass responses, but before he could settle on one, Nate interrupted.Briar had forgotten he was listening.

"We're treating her, Derek. Snapping at Briar isn't going to help."

Derek glanced toward the laptop, breaking their locked gazes, and Briar felt like he could breathe again.Briar ducked his head, focused on keeping his hands steady as he screwed IV tubing into the catheter he'd secured to the puppy's cephalic vein.

"You're the vet," Derek snapped, turning his ire on Nate's pixelated image."Get your ass down here and handle this."

"I'm headed your way, but I live out in the boonies.You know that. You want Briar to just sit there twiddling his thumbs while you wait?Or do you want him to do everything he can to stabilize her?"

A muscle in Derek's throat flexed, like he was swallowing the reality of his situation and it didn't go down easy.In the end, he just shoved his fists in his jacket pockets and resumed his silent sentinel routine in the periphery of Briar's vision.

Nate ordered a few blood panels and a cocktail of antacids, glucose, and electrolytes before shutting down the call to focus on his driving.

The room became uncomfortably silent.

Maybe it was Briar's fault they'd gotten off on the wrong foot.After all, it wasn't unusual for pet owners to take their frustrations out on staff, and Briar hadn't exactly established himself as a trustworthy resource.He"d acted as if Derek was a serial killer the moment he opened the door, and Derek had noticed.The man couldn't do anything about his appearance.Didn't Briar understand better than anyone how much it hurt to be judged by something he couldn't change?How many people took one look at him and assumed he was nothing but a vapid party boy or an easy lay?And tonight, he"d done the same to someone else.It made him feel small and petty.He decided to start fresh.

"How old is she?" he asked, spiking a saline bag and attaching it to the IV port.He offered a tentative smile, but Derek only narrowed his eyes in response.

"Dunno," he replied laconically.

"You don't know?"

"Look, she didn't exactly come with papers.I found her in a box of junk parts at my gate last summer.Best I can figure is she's around ten months."

"Who could abandon such a cute little thing?" Briar murmured in his best good doggy voice.He stroked her ears, then pulled her lips back to examine her pale, dry gums.Her heart was beating so fast beneath his fingers that it felt like the flutter of a hummingbird's wings.

The other man was silent for so long that Briar glanced over at him.Big mistake.

Derek must have gotten tired of freezing his balls off and decided to strip off his soggy outer layer. The shapeless jacket and loose, grease-stained jeans made him look stocky or maybe even a little chubby.Briar had assumed he was hiding a beer gut like more than half the male population of Sweetwater.

Oh, how wrong he'd been.

Derek Owens was sculpted like a Greek god.His shoulders were wide enough to work double-duty as an industrial beam, and Briar could trace every line of stacked muscle beneath his damp t-shirt.Even without flexing, the swell of his biceps threatened to bust the hem of his tight sleeves.Then he turned to toss his jacket on a nearby counter, and Briar"s eyes nearly popped out of his head.Beneath his faded jeans was the tightest ass Briar had ever seen.

His mouth went dry.

"Holy…shiiii…"he wheezed.

Derek shot him a questioning glance over his shoulder.Briar flushed, dropping his eyes back to the puppy and fumbling with suddenly clumsy fingers.His ears buzzed in the silence.

"You did the right thing getting her to us so quickly," he said, forcing so much cheer into his voice that it cracked."I don't see any wounds or punctures, so probably not a rattler bite.It might be an infection, or she might have ingested something.Fluids will help a lot. Just give me a second to calculate this drip ratio.We don't want to mess with her arterial pressure by overloading her with fluids too quickly.Math was never my strong suit, you know?Barely squeaked by in college."

He was spewing one-sided chatter like he'd busted a vent.The steam from his overheated brain was leaking out.All it took was a hint of six-pack beneath some wet cotton to completely snap his safety valve.Derek listened to him prattle on without comment, but Briar was too rattled to tap the brakes.

"Oh! Yeah, that sounds bad, right?Don't worry. Nate would never have hired me if I wasn't the best vet tech around.Scout"s honor." He held up three fingers in a scout salute."I was never a scout though. Not unless you count a camping trip for troubled youth back in middle school.But they say it"s the thought that counts.Anyway, don"t worry. That's what calculators are for, right?Haha…ha."

Oh God, it was getting worse.Derek's expression was growing increasingly skeptical.Or maybe that was horror.

"Even Nate uses a calculator for drip ratios," Briar blurted, tugging his phone from the pocket of his lab coat and showing off the calculator function with a flourish.As if the man had never seen a calculator before."I'm calculating her fluid deficit, see? She's eighteen kilograms. So, I multiply that by eight percent. That's her estimated dehydration. Then by one thousand, so—"

"1,440."

Briar froze with his finger hovering over the total button.

"What?" he asked blankly.

"1,440," Derek repeated, shifting his weight impatiently."Eighteen multiplied by point-zero-eight and then one-thousand."

"That's not…" Perplexed, Briar finished tapping the equation into his app.He squinted at the answer, double-checked it, and then turned his appalled gaze on Derek."How did you do that so fast?"

"It's simple math." One corner of his mouth curled in disgust."What? You think us rednecks can't understand numbers without going to some fancy college?"

"Community," Briar murmured, transfixed by his annoyed expression.

"What?"

"Community college." And then he smiled, because despite everything, he was proud of what he'd accomplished.Not many people made it out of his old neighborhood without a needle in their arms.

Those striking eyes weighed on him, but Briar couldn"t meet his gaze.He didn't dare. Not until he found his equilibrium and remembered that he'd moved to the smallest, straightest town on earth for a reason.The dating pool in Sweetwater was non-existent, and he liked it that way.

It had been more than a year since he'd been touched.Even longer since he'd enjoyed it.But no matter how tantalizing the body beneath Derek's dirty clothes might be, it was off limits.

Nate always said he had terrible taste in men.Dax had been a low point, but he'd started out charming.He'd snared Briar with a pretty face and sweet nothings.It was only after their lives were hopelessly entangled that he"d revealed his true nature.

Derek Owens was the opposite.He obviously realized the assumptions people made about him, so he'd decided not to even try for charming.Then again, why would he? Briar was the real asshole here.He"d almost slammed the door in his face based on looks alone.

"She's going to be okay, you know," he said, smiling hesitantly.

"You don't know that."

"I'm not psychic," Briar agreed, "but I'm smart, and I'm well-trained."

He expected a sarcastic response, but it never came.Derek merely watched him with a remote expression.There was something unsettled in those clear green eyes.

"It might help if you petted her," Briar suggested.

Derek didn't budge. By this point, Briar suspected he was just being stubborn.

"She's in a strange place with bad smells," he added lamely."Your presence will be comforting."

"I don't see why," Derek grumbled, but he finally unfolded from his elaborate slouch.

There was no waft of cologne when he brushed past, no spiced rum or essence of alpine forest, but Briar couldn"t resist filling his lungs anyway.

Derek stopped beside the exam table and stared down at the puppy, but he made no move to touch her.Without thinking, Briar grabbed him by the wrist and set his hand lightly on her rump.His skin was a shock. Cool to the touch, but solid and real...because he was a real person.Not a grumpy face with muscles for Briar to thirst over.

Briar dropped him fast, wiping his hand against the front of his lab coat, and Derek"s eyes tracked the motion.

Then the puppy twitched, and his attention was focused solely on her.His hand was so big that it easily spanned half her body, but he was incredibly gentle.He started at her head and went all the way to the tip of her stubby tail in one smooth stroke.Then he repeated the gesture. Methodical. Precise.

"What's her name?" Briar asked, using the same soft, slow tone that he reserved for cranky animals.

"Doesn't matter. I"m not keeping her." Derek"s voice was thick."Let her new owners give her a name."

"But…why?" Briar stared at him, aghast.

Derek shrugged, nearly blindsiding him with the flex of his massive shoulders, and said gruffly, "I never wanted her."

"But you've kept her all this time—"

Derek looked up sharply. "Did you hear me?"

"I heard, but—"

"I don't want her."

Briar might have believed him if he hadn't had to force the words out like bullets.

"If there's one thing I know about dogs, it's that they don't need much," Briar said, petting one silky ear with a fingertip."She just wants to love you with all her loyal little heart.That's enough for her."

Derek didn't reply. A muscle flexed in his jaw, just beneath his earlobe.His gaze was fixed on the puppy, and he just kept repeating the same firm, robotic stroke.She seemed to respond to his touch.Her eyes opened and she turned her head to give his thumb a grateful lick.

"Princess," Briar decided, just to test his reaction."If you don't tell me her name, I'm going to call her Princess."

Derek's head jerked up, both eyebrows lifting in surprise.

Briar met his gaze placidly, daring him to protest."You're not keeping her anyway, right?So, what's the problem?"

"No problem," he said stiffly.

He knew exactly what Briar was doing.They both did. Just like they both understood how much he loved this dog, even if he refused to admit it for some inane reason.

"Good."Briarreached out to scratch behind her ears, accidentally brushing Derek's scarred knuckles.A warning tingle rushed into his fingers, but he managed to eke out a smile as he tucked his hands in his pockets and said, "Let's make it Princess Sparkles.I'll put it on herpaperwork."

For a brief moment, he thought he caught a strange gleam in Derek's eyes.Not amusement. Not even something brushing up againstamusement.But something that might have wanted to be a twinkle—maybe—if it had been allowed tolive.It died too quick to besure.

"Do whatever you want," Derek saidflatly.He stepped away, turning his back on them both. "I'll put my credit card onfile.Fix her up…and then find somewhere for her togo.I never wanted her in the firstplace."