A Groom of One's Own (Appies, #3)

by Emma St. Clair

I’m putting Doris back in her kennel, my mind circles back to the professional hockey player I’ve been hanging out with a few times a month without having any idea. Why is this hitting me the way it is? Or … is it the hockey player info combined with the whole marriage idea? I think about how he normally puts me at ease and the way he coaxes me to talk. So, he’s famous. A big deal. With me, he’s just Eli. Ha! The man isn’t just anything. Even without the fame, his presence is practically too large for a room to contain. I wonder if he’ll come back in after this. Dr. Evil probably scared him off. Or maybe our conversation did. The idea of never seeing him again sends a wave of disappointment through me. Way to ruin the highlight of my week, Dr. Evil. But she’s not done yet. She pops her head back in just as I’m about to start administering the various meds that go along with the evening feeding. “Oh, Bailey—I almost forgot,” she says. “The reason I was looking for you was to ask for your help bathing one of the cats. He made quite a mess and rolled around in it.” Her smile is as sweet as a honey-covered dagger. I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to the scratch on my arm. It’s no secret that I’m universally hated by cats. It also could just as easily be a volunteer’s job to bathe a cat. Dr. Evil’s already gone when I mutter, “There’s nothing in the world I want to do more than give a cat a bath right now.”