Vet's Desire Page 14

  He was well into his fifth beer and on his way to a pity party featuring one when a knock sounded at the door. He didn’t bother to peek through the peephole but opened the door and gazed a little blearily up at the muscle-bound, big cop towering on his doorstep. “Mike.”

  “I want to talk to you,” Mike began, and then his gaze shifted from Tim’s face to the can in his hand. His brow rose.

  “Gonna get good and drunk.” Turning, Tim walked a little unsteadily back to the stool he’d been slouched on at the kitchen counter.

  “Really.” It was a statement, not a question. Mike shut the door and followed him into the kitchen, glancing at the empty tins of beer lined up on the counter. “I saw your lights on and knew you’d be up.”

  “On the way home from work, huh?” Tim took another swallow and emptied the can. Reaching for an unopened can, he popped the top. “Can tell.” His voice slurred a little as he angled the can towards Mike. “Got your uniform on.”

  “Good detection.” Crossing to the kettle, Mike filled it with water and plugged it into the socket.

  “I’m drinking beer,” Tim said.

  “I’m drinking coffee.”

  “I noticed. Make yourself at home.”

  “Done deal.” Mike studied him calmly. “Rough party at your mother’s?”

  “Rough party every time I go there.” Tim burped.

  “So why go?”

  “Jeez, you’re the second. Third? No, second person to ask me that.” Tim hiccupped. “Sado-sadomassshim-sadomater - something bad, anyway. I like to hurt myself.”

  “You don’t say.” Mike spooned coffee into a large mug.

  “Yeah, I do.” Tim downed half the beer in several swallows. “Turns out my love life sucks.” He pointed a wavering finger at his friend. “Aunty told me.”

  “She’d know,” Mike agreed easily.

  “Mummy issues. How gross is that?”

  “Gross indeed.”

  “And then Cindy…” Tim squinted at Mike. “You gonna rip my balls off and nail them to the wall?”

  “That had been my original plan.” Mike shrugged. “I’m having to reassess. Or wait until another time.”

  “When I’m not shooooo drunk?”

  “That’d be it.” Mike pulled the milk from the ‘fridge. “You don’t get drunk as a rule, Tim. You don’t like being out of control.”

  “Tonight.” Tim blinked owlishly. “Tonight is a shep - special occasion.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Tonight my Aunt told me to sort out my love life.” Tim waved the can in the air, sloshing the beer inside. “I don’t need a love life. I need sex.”

  “Right.” Mike turned off the kettle and poured hot water into the mug.

  “I have shex - sex whenever I want. I don’t need good girls like Cindy - oops.” Tim held one finger to his lips and winked - unfortunately with both eyes, which rather destroyed the effect he was after. “Mustn’t mention Cindy.”

  “Really.” Stirring the milk into the coffee, Mike kept his gaze on the spoon.

  “Yep. She’s off-topic, off-limits, off everything.” Tim’s goofiness faded away and he stared morosely at his beer. “She’s mad at me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. ‘Cause I told her…aw shit.”

  Taking the stool beside Tim, Mike swivelled it so he faced his friend.

  “Anyway…” Tim swallowed the last of the beer and popped the tab on number seven. “Aunt Hannah says Dad isshh to blame a little for not shhticking up for me with my demon mother.” Tim took a few healthy swallows and nearly tipped off the stool at the same time. Mike helped steady him and Tim blinked. “Ssshiiiiit. I think I’m drunk.”

  “I’m not going to argue that.” Mike blew on the surface of the steaming coffee.

  Tim looked at Mike, feeling sadness overwhelm him. “Dad loved me.”

  “He sure did.” Mike nodded.

  “Took me fishing. And Rick, too.” Tim rubbed a hand over his eyes, blinking away the sudden tears that threatened. “Can’t cry in front of you. I’m a man. Apparently.”

  “Apparently.” Mike nodded agreement.

  “Yeah.” Tim clapped him on the shoulder and almost missed. “You’re a good friend, Mike. Good friend. Wish you’d been my mother.”

  “That would’ve made the medical books.” Mike grinned a little.

  Tim swallowed some more beer and stared at the table for awhile. He thought a long time had passed, but maybe it hadn’t, he didn’t know. He did hear Mike get up and make another coffee, but he didn’t know when he’d popped the tab on beer can number twenty eleven. Thirty twelve. Ten fifty? “How many beers have I had?”

  “That’d be number nine.” Mike sipped on his coffee.

  “What number coffee ish that?”

  “Number two.”

  “You need to catch up.” Tim almost fell off the stool.

  Mike steadied him.

  “Maddy issh waiting for you?” Tim slurred his words a little more.

  “Yep.”

  “You need to go.” But he didn’t want him to go.

  “She knows I’m here. She’s fine.”

  “You shpoke to her.”

  “I did.”

  “I didn’t sh - shee - shie - see you.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s on your phone bill.” Mike smiled again.

  “You’re lucky to have her.”

  “I know.”

  “Wsh - wis - wish I had someone.” Tim could feel himself listing to the side. “Gets lonely.”

  “I know.” Mike reached out for him.

  “Cindy…” Everything went black and Tim slid right off the stool.

  When he awoke, his head felt like someone was drumming inside it - hard. The curtains were drawn and he was lying on his sofa with his shoes by the coffee table, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, a bucket by the side of the sofa, and a bottle of water with a glass already filled beside it on the table. A note leaning against it stated simply Drink. You’re dehydrated and hung over.

  Big surprise there. As if he didn’t know. The house reeked of booze, he reeked of booze, and he was so hung over he felt like he could toss his innards fifty miles in two seconds.

  Gorge rising in his throat, he gingerly took a drink of water.

  Jesus, he’d gone on a bender last night. He hated getting drunk, hated losing control. The last time this had happened, he’d been out with some fellow students while in university and had woken up lying in his own vomit. The severity of that event, the realisation that he had no idea what he’d done the night before, and the sobering knowledge that he could have died, had him vowing to never get drunk again. He’d been a little tipsy once or twice, but he knew his limit.

  Just look what a few words with his mother and aunty had reduced him to, not to forget his words with Cindy, too.

  Women drove him to drink. That bender was proof. He had to start avoiding them.

  Standing finally after two tries, he staggered carefully upstairs clutching the bottle of water in one hand. A cold shower had him gasping for air but he manfully ploughed on, padding around in boxer shorts while drinking the water, downing some coffee and forcing himself to eat some toast. Then he opened every window in the house and used the air freshener spray like there was no tomorrow.

  The bin in the kitchen was empty, the cans cleared away. Good ol’ Mike, the mother hen, cleaning up after Tim and making sure he was all right before he left.

  A couple of hours later he felt a bit better. Paracetamol, water, and a shower. He wasn’t good to go but he could at least sit without his head banging like bongo drums.

  Sit and think. Think about what his aunt and mother had said. Maybe he was sadomasochistic. But he was happy like this, it was the way he chose to live. He didn’t need a woman in his life. Aunt Hannah had provided him with love of a motherly kind, while his mother was a right bitch who showed him that maintaining control was paramount if his life was to be his own.

  H
is family was definitely different to Cindy’s family. Her mother was tall and held her weight well, wearing what she pleased and totally happy. Her father was kindly but shrewd. Her brothers were protective and while one was a real womaniser, the other was, well, he was a soldier that Tim saw only rarely.

  But they loved each other. They were a real family. They were what he wished he’d had when he was a little boy facing his mother after yet again disappointing her, while his father had objected mildly and sought him out later to assure him that he was good, that he wasn’t a disappointment.

  Yeah, his dad was just as much to blame. Memories like that he didn’t need, he liked to cling to the memory of the happy times he spent with his dad, not remember how he hadn’t backed him fully, stood with him against his mother’s disapproval and obvious attempts at match-making to better himself.

  His dad hadn’t lived long enough to see him make it through university, but he’d encouraged him to follow his dreams. Maybe that was because he’d seen his own smothered under his wife’s iron hand.

  Having had enough of thinking, Tim switched the TV on and flipped the channels. Nothing caught his interest so he heaved himself to his feet. His headache was a dimness, almost gone. Time to get a pizza and some DVDs and waste the rest of the afternoon watching the giggle box.

  Time to forget for awhile.

  ~*~

  The next two weeks Tim spent knuckled down at work. Taking a couple of really sick animals home with him overnights helped keep him occupied and gave him the perfect excuse for not going out.

  He certainly didn’t want to scrutinize the real reason, which was that he simply had lost any interest in seeking out a one night stand. Or a couple of hours stand, as the truth stood. He’d never spent a whole night with any woman.

  When he’d bought the house, he’d spent some money remodelling an area where he could keep seriously ill animals overnight and on weekends. Easy to clean lino floors and a large window for ventilation with a blind that could be pulled down for shade, not that it was needed with the big verandas that surrounded the house. A sliding door led onto a thickly grassed area in the back yard for dogs to be walked. Hooks were on the walls to hold drips, and a large basin had cupboards underneath for water and food bowls. Another cupboard held some blankets, sheets and towels, and a spare heat pad lay on the bottom of the cupboard along with some litter trays and a bag of cat litter.

  The heat pad made him think of Al, which in turn made him wonder what Cindy was doing. Probably sleeping with that sleaze, Robert. After all, she’d said she was going to have sex that fateful night of the horror party in Hell. He could only assume that as she’d gone home with Robert, he’d been the lucky man.

  Goddamn it. The thought of Robert with his greasy hands on Cindy’s soft skin made him angry.

  Goddamn it again. It wasn’t his business, and she’d made that perfectly clear to him.

  Late Thursday afternoon found him at home settling a dog on a plastic-covered mattress layered with soft sheets. He hooked the bag of IV fluids on a hook not far above, placed a bowl of water beside the mattress and a second bowl containing some cooked, chopped up chicken.

  The dog wagged his tail feebly and took a few bites.

  “There’s a fellow.” Tim rubbed the big, furry head gently. “Keep improving, that’s all your owners want. All I want, too.” When the dog looked up at him out of liquid brown eyes, and he rubbed behind his ears. “Eat up. I’ll take you outside later if you’re up to it.”

  Pulling his shirt off, he slung it into the laundry wash basket and came back out into the kitchen. While pouring himself an iced coffee in front of the open ‘fridge door, he studied the casserole dish his trusty housekeeper had left on the second shelf. Sausage and something, by the look of it. Rice in another bowl. Looked like Janet was trying something new. Interesting. He warmed some up and it tasted good. He surprised himself by eating a second plateful. He’d lost his appetite recently but it looked like it was coming back.

  He was scrounging in the freezer for some ice cream when the doorbell rang. Placing it on the sink, he went through the lounge and out into the hallway to the front door. Opening it, he looked down to see Cindy standing there returning his gaze steadily.

  Man, she looked so pretty. The low-cut blouse hugged her breasts, the little lace edging tickling her bare skin, he’d just bet. The light linen summer pants she wore skimmed her legs before flaring out around the stilettos she wore on her red-nailed feet. Red pants, white top, red stilettos and red toe nails. His gaze drifted up over those luscious curves, following up higher to where her hair was bundled up in some elegant, yet managing to look a little untidy, bun of some kind on top of her head. Errant blonde strands blew in the evening breeze. His gaze finally settled on her face. Blue eye shadow, red lipstick, thick eyelashes, a touch of blush on her cheeks.

  She looked so good, so fresh and so confident, that he wanted to fall to his knees right there and rip her clothes off to see that soft skin beneath the material.

  One fine brow arched. “Tim.”

  Reining in his baser instinct, he met her gaze coolly. Or he hoped it was coolly. Arching one brow in return, he replied, “Cindy.” That came out nice and level.

  Her gaze flicked behind him. “Is this a bad time?”

  As in, did he have a strumpet in his house? Little did she know no woman had ever been in his house, except for the vet nurses who came to deliver or pick up animals or things to do with the clinic, Janet his housekeeper, his Aunt, and - well, that was about it. Not even Maddy or Cherry had come into his hallowed sanctuary.

  No sir, it was a man’s house. His house. Which is why it surprised the hell out of him when the words that fell from his mouth were, “It’s fine. Come in.”

  Standing aside, wondering what had possessed him to say such a thing, he inhaled deeply as she passed. Oh yeah, there was that perfume of hers, stealing into his senses and making him - so not horny. No, never horny. No more. Cindy was hands off. And right now, so was every other bloody female. He was on a crash diet when it came to women. Yeah, a sex fast.

  “Go down the hall, right into the lounge, and through into the kitchen,” he directed, closing the door.

  He told himself he was simply being a gentleman, allowing her to precede him. He definitely was not watching the roll of her ample backside and itching to touch it. He kept his hands in his pockets because he was off women and wasn’t interested in reaching out to cup those luscious curves. No sirree, he was in complete control.

  In the kitchen, Cindy turned to face him. Her expression was calm.

  So it should be. She’d been shagging, he hadn’t. No bigee, he was on a cleansing, no-women diet. Much more noble.

  Jesus, he was such a kid.

  Shaking his head inwardly, he asked, “How’s Al?”

  Immediately her expression softened. “He’s got his eyes open and is toddling around. I’ve shifted him into a kitten pen.”

  “You’ve got a kitten pen?”

  “I had two made, one for my bedroom and one for the kitchen. Both are on wheels so I can wheel him around the house.”

  “He needs changes of scenery?” He couldn’t resist teasing her just a little.

  It was okay, he wasn’t breaking his off-women diet by simply teasing.

  She smiled. “He likes to know what’s going on. Al is a bit of a sticky beak.”

  “Spoiled.”

  “Sure.” She didn’t deny it.

  Silence fell between them for several seconds. Cindy glanced away before taking a deep breath and looking up at him. “I want to apologise for my brother the other night.”

  “Your brother?”

  “Marty. At the party.”

  “Marty at the party. Nice ring to it.”

  Ignoring his blithe humour, Cindy continued to regard him steadily. “He warned you off me.”

  “Not really.” Tim shrugged. “I believe he was warning me not to hurt you. Big difference.”

  �
��Okay.” She didn’t bother to argue. “He had no right sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Bad habit of his, we’re trying to break him of it but nothing is working so far.”

  “Maybe you should smack him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.” Crossing to the sink, Tim picked up the container of ice cream and made to put it back in the freezer.

  Immediately, she took a step towards the arched doorway. “I’m sorry. You were obviously eating and-”

  “No!” He practically leaped across the distance separating them, just managing to stop himself from grabbing her shoulders. Clearing his throat, he said, “I mean, I’ve actually finished eating. I just forgot to put the ice cream away.”

  “Tim, your empty plate is in the sink. There is no ice cream bowl,” she replied wryly.

  “Okay.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway…”

  She arched her brow.

  “Bugger.” He sighed. “Take a seat.”

  “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

  “Please.” He patted one of the stools. “Share some ice cream with me.”

  “Really?” She was surprised.

  “Yeah.” Turning around again, he crossed to the cupboard and pulled down two dessert bowls.

  All the time he was wondering what the hell he was doing. He could feel his no-woman diet becoming a little threadbare.

  No, damn it! He was just being friendly, enjoying her company. That was all. Besides, she probably wouldn’t stay and-

  “I’d love some ice cream.”

  He didn’t know whether to sigh with relief or groan with…well, relief. He for sure didn’t know why he had such a silly grin on his face. Maybe the no-woman diet was making him weak.

  After spooning ice cream into the two bowls, he replaced it in the freezer and set the bowls on the counter, one on Cindy’s side, the second bowl on the other side of the counter. Taking two spoons from the drawer, he picked up a bottle of chocolate topping and took the stool opposite her.

  Silently she took the spoon.

  Tim squeezed the chocolate topping thickly over his ice cream and handed her the bottle without looking. She took it just as silently and squeezed a smaller amount on her own ice cream. He looked up just in time to see her loop a long strand of gooey topping onto her finger from the bottle, and sticking her finger in her mouth, she sucked it off.