Risk Factors. Calisa Rhose

      Who else would answer her phone at eleven-thirty at night? “Hello, Dad.” Had he forgotten the time difference between America and Africa again?

      “I know it’s late, but I haven’t had a chance to get to a signal until now.” Meaning he’d been out in the bush where phones didn’t work.

      He also rarely called. Apprehension rose in her chest and she struggled to keep the anxiety from her voice. “Are you and Mom all right?”

      “Yes, yes, we’re good. We’ll be coming to visit in December. Max wrote and told me he gave you his clinic.” Gerald Dane was always one to get right to the point. The way he specified Uncle Max gifting the clinic without making her pay suggested he was getting close.

      She waited.

      “I hope you know what you’re getting into. Wild animal reserve? May I ask what in heaven’s name made you agree to something so outrageous?”

      There it was. His real reason for calling his only child. He was worried Viv might kill one of the wild beasts with her obvious incompetence.

      “He said you renewed the availability contract for local emergencies and annuals.”

      “That’s right, Dad.”

      The written agreement to remain available for their needs 24-7, on a bi-annual retainer, was a stipulation written into their contract. If one could seriously consider the piece of paper Uncle Max had jotted notes on a contract. His–hers–was the only clinic so close to the reserve. The facility had used Uncle Max forever and she’d seen no reason to not renew. Of course, since she’d met Hammer-the-hawk last week, Viv almost changed her mind.

      Her dad’s voice brought her back to the conversation. “Are you sure you can handle wild species? Keep in mind, you’re a domestic pet doctor. Wild animals take a certain type of veterinarian to know their ailments, often very different than a house pet.”

      “How could I forget? I may have treated domesticated animals primarily in Denver, but I’m also capable of treating a wolf or a hawk.” Or any other animal found in the US. God forbid if, just once, either of her wayward parents should actually call her by her rightful title, instead of “pet doctor.” It hurt when they talked as though she only played at being a veterinarian.

      She closed her eyes and counted to ten while her father expounded on her obvious incompetence for treating their preferred range of species, the wild ones. “Dad, have you forgotten how much you and Mom spent for me to become a veterinarian? I did learn while at school, you know. I actually know the difference between a wolf and a lamb these days.”

      “Don’t get smart, Vivian. You know I only want what’s best.” Paper rustled in her ear. The condescension of his voice dripped from the phone over the many miles.

      She sat on the edge of her bed, forcing calming breaths. “Best for whom? Me? The animals you plainly don’t think I have the sense to treat? Or do you want what’s best for you and Mom? If you’re afraid I’ll shame you by association, well, you don’t need to worry. I’ve actually been thinking of legally changing my name to Vivian Pet-doctor-not-to-be-confused-with-renowned-wild-animal-veterinarians-Gerald-and-Blanca Dane.”

      And there it went. Her cool flapped its heated wings, carrying her barely-restrained, whimsical, fake pleasantry right out the window. Pain scraped over her, harsh and raw.

      What else was new? Her parents were more concerned about their name being smutted, than their own daughter. Thoughts flitted through her head until she suddenly realized her dad was too quiet. “Dad?”

      “You seem to have quite a chip on your shoulder, Vivian. I hope you get it taken care of before we arrive. Your mother said to tell you hello. I need to go now. This costs so much.” His abruptness told her the conversation had ended. No different than most of their conversations. Viv was the unreasonable child her father would always see, and not the responsible adult he’d raised. Admittedly, she hadn’t helped his image with her smart tongue.

      “Right. Tell Mom hello then.” Nothing was left unsaid, before the connection severed and Viv sat holding the cold instrument. She hung up as the first tears fell.

       Chapter 2

      “’S’cuse me.”

      Vivian glanced around at the sound of the small voice, pushing thoughts of her father’s call out of her mind. The frog alert remained silent beside the open door. Rising to examine the reception area, Viv started at the sight of a tiny girl on the other side of the desk, then smiled. “Oh. Hello.”

      “Are you the doctor?”

      “I am.”

      “We need help.” The child ducked down out of sight and a cage rattled.

      “I see.” Hoping to stop the little girl from releasing her pet in the lobby where it could escape, Viv rounded the desk, then froze.

      “Skittles has a tummy bug.”

      “I see.” Did she? Was she honestly staring at a skunk in the child’s arms? “Honey…I think…ah, Skittles, is it?”

      The child’s blonde head bobbed.

      “Right, I think all Skittles needs is to go outside to play.” Alone and very far from here.

      “But she won’t eat. I gave her her favorite cereal, Strawberries-n-Oatmeal, but she won’t eat it.”

      “Well…maybe she would rather find her own food today.” How in the world had this tiny girl managed to pick up, never mind carry around, a half-grown skunk without smelling like Eau de Stinkee?

      “I don’t think so,” the mournful voice disagreed. “She always eats Strawberries-n-Oatmeal or Cheerios. Last night she didn’t eat. Ask Daddy, he’s talking to Grampa in the car.”

      “Last night?” Obviously Skittles was a pet. How long had the little girl homed a skunk? The child spoke as though she expected Vivian to go outside and talk to the man in question, which she would not do. “I’d like very much to speak to your daddy.”

      Viv turned to move behind the desk and stepped on her shoelace–the too-long one she meant to fix, but kept forgetting–and then she went down.

      Strong hands unexpectedly caught and steadied her, preventing a nasty plummet to the floor, and only seconds after the frog should have alerted her to another presence.

      “She’s de-scented.”

      “De-scented?”

      Warm caramel drizzled over her with the voice. Viv looked up. Sexy Eyes.

      Those eyes probed hers for a long moment, effectively whisking her breath away, before they shifted down to the little girl. Right. Daddy. If he recognized Viv from the accident three days before, he didn’t let on. Maybe he didn’t identify her as the panicked buffoon who’d practically thrown the baby into his arms. A wave of relief soothed her racing pulse. A fresh start would be good. Especially since he was the owner of a patient.

      He nodded his dark head once. “Yes, de-scented.”

      If only he were. The woodsy aroma coming off him messed with Viv’s senses in a crazy way.

      “Last night Janna noticed Skittles hadn’t eaten or drank while we were out all day. She’s listless, her abdomen is distended. She whimpers…squeaks. I don’t know how to describe the sound a skunk makes, but whatever you call it, that's what she does.”

      Shaking herself back to reality, Viv stepped away and pointed to an exam room. Medical school didn’t exactly cover skunks, but they were members of the feline family, something she could use as a guide. “What–how often does Skittles eat? What does she eat besides cereal?”

      “Cat food. It’s what Doc Dane said she’d eat, Doctor…”

      “Vivian. Max is my uncle.” She gently probed the belly and nodded