Between Us

The first thing Lena Morales noticed about the new veterinarian was that everyone else had noticed him. She knew because the treatment area had been suspiciously quiet for the last three minutes. Not actually quiet. The clinic was never quiet.

There was a terrier barking somewhere in the back. A kennel door slammed. Someone was calling for radiographs. The phones at reception were ringing one after another. But the technicians? They kept finding reasons to glance toward the front. Lena didn’t bother.

She was standing at the treatment counter, finishing a chart while holding a pen between her teeth.

“Is he here yet?” one of the younger technicians whispered.

Lena kept typing. “Who?”

The tech stared at her. “The new doctor.”

“Oh.”

She clicked another box on the computer. “Apparently.”

“You haven’t seen him?”

“No.”

“You’re not curious?”

Lena finally looked up. “Should I be?”

The girl gave her a look like Lena had just announced she didn’t believe in birthdays. “He’s hot.”

Lena shrugged. “He’s a veterinarian.”

“That doesn’t cancel out the hot part.”

Lena smiled despite herself and went back to the chart.

She had been the lead technician at the clinic for eight years. She had seen new veterinarians come and go. She’d watched interns turn into doctors, doctors burn out, doctors move to bigger hospitals, and doctors learn very quickly that knowing medicine wasn’t the same thing as knowing how a clinic actually worked.

She had no reason to care what the new one looked like. Besides, handsome veterinarians were still veterinarians. And veterinarians were still capable of making her life unnecessarily difficult. The front door opened. Lena didn’t look up.

Then she heard the receptionist. “Dr. Carter?” A chorus of greetings followed. Lena rolled her eyes. Of course. She finished her note, saved the chart, and finally glanced toward the front.

And stopped. Okay. Fine. He was attractive. Annoyingly attractive.

Tall. Broad shoulders beneath a dark blue quarter-zip. Blond hair that looked like it had been styled without actually looking styled. Bright green eyes. A clean, confident smile as he shook the practice manager’s hand. He looked young. Not inexperienced. Just young.

Five years out of veterinary school, if she’d remembered correctly. Lena looked back at her computer. Nope. Still just a veterinarian.

“Don’t look now,” someone whispered beside her.

“I already looked.”

“And?”

“He has a face.”

The technician snorted.

Lena smiled.

Then the emergency doors opened.

“Dog coming in!”

Everything changed. A woman rushed through the door carrying a small terrier wrapped in a blanket.

“He collapsed in the car!”

Lena was already moving. “Table three.”

The technicians scattered.

“Get oxygen.”

“IV supplies.”

“Vitals.”

“Doctor!”

Lena reached the treatment table as the dog was transferred into her hands. The terrier was pale, tachypneic, and barely responsive.

“What’s his name?”

“Benny,” the owner said, breathless. “He’s twelve. He was fine this morning and then—”

“Okay. We’re going to take care of him.”

Lena’s voice stayed calm even as the room moved around her.

“Heart rate one-eighty.”

“Blood pressure?”

“Working on it.”

“Get me blood glucose.”

She glanced toward the doorway. The new veterinarian had arrived.

Dr. Owen Carter stepped into the treatment area, and Lena barely had time to register that he looked even better when he was working before he was already beside the table.

“What do we have?”

“Twelve-year-old terrier. Acute collapse. Pale mucous membranes. Tachycardic. We’re getting vitals now.”

“Any known medical history?”

“Owner says none.”

Owen nodded. “Let’s get an IV catheter placed. Bloodwork, electrolytes, PCV. Start fluids.”

Lena watched him for half a second. Calm. Focused. Direct. Okay. Maybe he knew what he was doing. That was inconvenient.

“Blood glucose is forty-two,” one of the technicians called.

Owen looked at the result. “Okay. Give him four-point-two milliliters of dextrose IV.”

Lena reached for the medication. Then stopped. She looked at the vial. Then at the syringe. Then at the chart. “Dr. Carter?”

He glanced at her. “Yes?”

“Can I confirm that volume?”

His eyebrows drew together slightly. “Four-point-two.”

“I know. I’m asking if you calculated that from this concentration.”

The room seemed to quiet around them. Owen looked at the vial in her hand. Then at the chart. Lena held his gaze. And for the first time, he really looked at her.

She was tall, taller than he’d initially realized, with a lean, athletic build that suggested she spent as much time taking care of herself as she did taking care of everyone else. Her dark curls were gathered into a loose clip at the back of her head, though several stubborn curls had escaped around her face. Her skin was a warm, natural brown, the kind of rich tone that didn’t look borrowed from a bottle or a week in the sun. Her dark brown eyes were steady and unwavering as they held his.

She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t trying to prove anything. She was simply waiting for him to answer. Owen realized he’d been staring.

“Who are you?”

The question slipped out before he could stop it. Lena blinked. Apparently, she’d expected many responses. That wasn’t one of them “You know my name.”

“I do.” He realized he was still looking at her.

She seemed to realize it too. Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Tech lead.”

Something flickered across his expression. Recognition. So this was Lena Morales. The tech lead everyone had mentioned during his orientation. Eight years at the clinic. Experienced. Confident. And apparently completely unimpressed by him.

He glanced back at the medication. “I calculated it based on the concentration.”

“So did I.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “And?”

“And I’m asking if there’s another reason you want him at that volume.”

The technician beside Lena suddenly became extremely interested in the monitor. Owen held Lena’s gaze for another second. She didn’t back down. Not because she was challenging his authority. Because she wanted an answer. He looked at the vial again. Then at the chart. Then back at the medication label. Something wasn’t lining up.

He took the syringe from her and checked the concentration himself. His eyes moved quickly between the label, Benny’s weight, and the calculation on the screen. He recalculated it. Once. Then again. The room waited.

Finally, Owen exhaled. “Yep. You’re right.”

Lena blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah.” There was no irritation in his voice now. Just reluctant acknowledgment.

He looked down at the chart again, recalculated the volume using the concentration they actually had, and nodded.

“Use two-point-zero milliliters instead.”

Lena nodded immediately. “Okay, Doctor.”

She prepared the medication and administered it. No smug smile. No I told you so. Just back to work. Owen watched her for half a second longer than he should have. Then forced his attention back to Benny.

⸻

By the time the clinic finally settled down that evening, Lena was exhausted. Benny was stable. His owner had been updated. The emergency had turned into an overnight hospitalization, which meant there would be another technician monitoring him after everyone else left.

Lena finished the final chart, stretched her shoulders, and grabbed her bag. She was almost out the back door when one of the younger technicians called after her.

“Lena!”

She turned. “Yeah?”

The tech grinned. “You know the new doctor thinks you’re scary, right?”

Lena laughed. “Good.”

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

“Nope.”

She pushed through the door. Cold air hit her face. Finally. Silence. She walked toward her car and shook her head. Who the hell did he think he was? He’d walked into the clinic that morning like he owned the place, immediately started giving orders, and then looked at her like she was some random technician questioning him for fun. And the worst part? He hadn’t actually been incompetent. He’d caught the problem once she’d pointed it out.

Which meant she couldn’t even write him off as some arrogant idiot. He was confident. He was intelligent. And he clearly knew what he was doing. Lena hated that. She opened her car door.

“Great,” she muttered. The last thing she needed was a veterinarian who was both arrogant and competent. She got in and started the engine. Across the parking lot, Owen Carter stood beside his own car, watching her taillights disappear. He had been thinking about the same woman for the last twenty minutes. Lena Morales. Tech lead. Eight years at the clinic. Apparently confident enough to question him in front of half the treatment staff on his first day.

He wasn’t angry anymore. Not exactly. Embarrassed? Maybe. He’d made a mistake. A small one, caught before anything happened, but still a mistake. And she had handled it professionally. She hadn’t challenged him to show off. She hadn’t been disrespectful. She’d simply asked a question. Owen smiled faintly. Everyone else had spent the morning smiling at him, introducing themselves, welcoming him to the clinic.

Lena had looked at him like he was just another doctor. And then, when he’d finally really looked at her, he’d realized exactly how difficult that was going to make things. He shook his head.

“Tech lead,” he murmured. He got into his car. She was going to be trouble. And for some reason, he already had the feeling he was going to enjoy every second of it.