Single Dad To The Rescue. Cari Webb Lynn

towel he kept on the back seat. “It’s clean. My son, however, isn’t always clean and has a habit of spilling whatever he’s drinking.”

      Brooke lifted Archie. The tremor returned. Somehow, she looked even more fragile and even more lost inside his truck.

      Dan worked faster, spreading the towel across her lap. He opened his well-stocked first-aid kit and pressed a stack of extra large gauze pads onto Archie’s stomach. “Don’t let up on the pressure. Sophie’s place isn’t too far.”

      Dan rushed around to the driver’s side and started the truck.

      “Archie wouldn’t get into the crate with his cone on when the evacuation order came. I took it off.” Brooke adjusted Archie on her lap, drawing out a pathetic meow that matched the anguish in her voice. “We had to leave.”

      She wouldn’t have left her pets behind—that much he knew. Only the rhythmic click of the turn signal disrupted the somber silence.

      “I should’ve put the cone back on yesterday. I made him a recovery area. Figured he’d leave his stiches alone,” she added.

      The misery in her voice settled on Dan’s shoulders. He accepted the weight, accelerated around a car and reminded himself Brooke needed him for transport, nothing else.

      “Your dad brought Luna back after their walk.” Brooke’s words continued to spill out as if there was solace in the confession. “I jumped into the shower and came out to find Luna in the recovery area and blood all over. I’ll clean up the apartment.”

      “Let’s get Archie help, then worry about that,” Dan said.

      “I don’t know what we would’ve done without your dad bringing us here,” she said. “Or now you.”

      The wisp of gratitude in her voice tangled in his gut, making his own breath catch. He wanted her out of his place as soon as possible, didn’t he? He reached over, touched Archie’s small head rather than holding Brooke’s hand to offer her reassurance.

      And recalculated the fastest route to Sophie’s store and his misplaced feelings for his tenant.

      He never considered he’d ever transport a seriously injured animal. But he was trained to help those in need. He’d rescued animals from the wildfires with his father over the years, but he’d only ever reunited those animals with their owners and walked away to continue fighting the fire. He looked over at Brooke.

      She wouldn’t be easy to walk away from. That thought he trampled into a dark corner, somewhere back behind his routine, and concentrated on driving.

      * * *

      BROOKE CONCENTRATED ON Archie and avoided looking out the truck windows. This time she was inside the vehicle, she reminded herself, not watching a large van barrel toward her. She had to stay focused, be in the moment. Archie was her priority.

      “Sophie’s place is up here, just around this corner.” Dan parked the truck in a loading zone and jumped out onto the street. He helped Brooke onto the sidewalk, swung open the front door to The Pampered Pooch and shouted, “Sophie, it’s an emergency. We need you now.”

      Dan guided Brooke ahead of him, shielding her from the busy sidewalk and gaping storefront windows. And then she was inside, Dan and her fears bracketing her on either side. The city loomed outside. Archie was lying limp in her arms.

      A woman, her blond hair tied back in a ponytail, sprinted down the center aisle. “Dan, what’s wrong?”

      Dan pointed at the bundled cat. “Archie needs your expertise.”

      The woman skidded to a halt and gasped at the injured cat. “Upstairs. Follow me.”

      She led them outside to a wide staircase. On the second-floor landing, she pulled out a set of keys from her back pocket, pushed open the old wooden door and motioned them inside.

      A deep male voice echoed down the hallway. “Sophie Callahan, that’s an emergency exit, not your private entrance. There are landlord-lessee rules and a code of conduct, you know.”

      “Iain, we don’t have time for that. You have an emergency patient,” Sophie called back.

      She led them into an examination room, complete with a stainless-steel exam table, white industrial cabinets and a carpeted cat tower in the corner. Only the cushioned seat built under the bay window revealed the room’s former use as a bedroom. Not all the Victorian charm had been renovated out of the old building, softening the commercial space.

      “I have no more kennel space, Sophie. We went through this last night.” The man’s deep voice continued to blast from somewhere inside the flat. “I won’t be able to get into my supply room if we add another kennel in this place.”

      Bare feet slapped on the wooden floor. A tall man moved into the room, slipped on his Crocs and stepped into the adjoining bathroom to wash his hands. “My landlord is very bossy. Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Porter and who do we have here?”

      “This is Archie.” Brooke stepped to the table and unwrapped the towel. “He had abdominal surgery after being dropped out of a moving car on the interstate. I think he and my dog, Luna, took out all his stitches.”

      Iain zeroed in on the cat and took over for Brooke, his touch gentle, his voice mild. “When was the surgery?”

      “Four days ago.” Her fingers dug into the clean section of the towel, but the tremor inside Brooke refused to surrender. She couldn’t lose Archie. She’d lost most of her family already. Brooke pushed her words past her panic and filled in Iain on the rest of the details.

      “The shelters were full. My dad brought Brooke and her pets to the city the night before last.” Dan’s hand landed on Brooke’s shoulder.

      His simple touch—steady and composed—held her together. But he was a stranger. And she couldn’t rely on his touch.

      Iain looked at Sophie, his gaze intent and his voice urgent. “Can you find Gwen? Tell her to prep for surgery now.”

      Sophie sprinted out of the exam room.

      “This will take some time.” Iain lifted Archie into his arms and moved to the doorway. “You’re welcome to wait. There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen.”

      Iain offered nothing more. No false platitudes or false hope. She stood in a strange veterinarian’s office, relying on an unknown veterinarian to save a part of her family. Leaned into a stranger’s touch on her shoulder for comfort. She was surrounded by strangers. Yet the loneliness forgot to claim her. Rather, these strangers offered reassurance. But surely that was only their jobs. Only their training. After all, she was every bit a stranger to them.

      Voices bounced against the hallway walls outside the exam room. A door opened and shut.

      Sophie stepped into the room. “Iain Porter is the best veterinarian I’ve worked with. He’ll do everything he can for Archie.”

      Dan’s hand dropped away from Brooke’s shoulder. She missed his touch before she could caution herself not to. “What now?”

      “We wait.” Compassion radiated from Sophie. In her positive voice. In her soft grip. “I don’t know about you, but if I can stay busy in moments like these, it stops the worry from consuming me.”

      “Sophie owns the pet store downstairs.” Dan’s small smile offered silent encouragement. “If you want to stay busy, I’m sure she can help.”

      “I accept only willing helpers,” Sophie corrected. “As it happens, I have new guests downstairs. They’re also fire evacuees. Several foster families couldn’t take the animals into the shelters with them, so I brought the animals here.”

      “How many animals did you take in?” Dan asked.

      “Eight last night.” Sophie rubbed her cheek. The visor of her Pampered Pooch baseball cap failed to hide the dark circles under her puffy eyes. “We had to move the cats up