The Brotherhood 11: Nothing Like Experience Page 2

  Allen glanced up at Chance with what he hoped was his friendliest expression, a look that would betray nothing of the weakness he felt whenever he looked Chance in the face. The man gazed back at him, looking worried. “He's just dandy,” Allen reassured him. “You did the right thing. You wouldn’t believe how many pet owners don’t bother to bathe their animals.”

  “I didn’t give him any heartworm medication, though. I didn’t see any in the store.”

  “Good thing, too. That can be dangerous.” Allen ran his hands over Spot’s ribs. “Did they weigh him? I didn’t see it written down. We can take him back out to the scales if we need to. Or do you recall his weight?”

  “Seventy-five pounds.” Chance beamed, clearly pleased with himself for remembering. Then he sobered again. “The helper said that he was a little heavy.”

  “By about five pounds. Not too bad.” Allen looked at the dog with a critical eye. Spot did seem to lean toward the plump side. “Did he come to you a little chunky?”

  Chance blushed, an attractive strawberry pink spreading over his cheeks and down his neck. “No,” he admitted in a small voice. “But I thought he was kind of skinny from when the other people had him.”

  “So you’ve been fattening him up?” Allen chuckled to keep the sting out of his words since Chance seemed to be sensitive, and swung his stethoscope off from around his neck. He hooked the earpieces in and raised the chestpiece to the dog’s well-padded ribs. A steady thump thump rewarded him. “Good heart on this guy despite the bit of extra weight.” Allen couldn’t say the same about his own heart. The longer he stayed in the exam room with Chance, the more his nerves started to take over his good-natured, yet professional demeanor.

  Damn, how could one man be so cute and yet, apparently, so completely unaware of it?

  He took a step back as Chance twined his finger in his hair again, looking far more adorable than any grown man had a right to be. “Like I said, Dalmatians are people dogs,” Allen added quickly, trying to keep his mind focused on the job at hand. “They love attention, and they like plenty of company. He probably looked forward to your visits every day.”

  Chance nodded eagerly. “He did! He’d always perk up and run for me with his tongue hanging out.” He stroked down the length of Spot’s back. “I can’t believe I got so lucky. He’s with me now all the time.”

  “Really?” Allen moved the stethoscope’s chestpiece down, listening to all the dog’s bodily functions in order. Everything seemed to be whooshing away just fine. “You don’t have to leave him alone when you go to work?”

  The blush threatened again. “I don’t exactly work. My pack, um, family’s kind of against it. They say I need time to figure myself out. They don’t really like me the way I am.”

  Allen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Family issues -- lovely. Chance was definitely not the type to grow a crush on, regardless of whether or not the sight of him would set even a straight man’s eyes bulging. As it was, it set other parts of a gay man’s body to wanting to pop out -- much to Allen’s dismay.

  Professional. Gotta keep it professional, he reminded himself.

  Removing the earpieces, Allen hooked the stethoscope back around his neck. He petted the dog, who seemed to be more at his ease. “Good boy,” Allen said affectionately. Spot seemed to be a prime example of a happy, healthy dog, except for the weight. “Lay off the extra food and the treats. They’re called treats for a reason. Start taking Spot with you on your runs.”

  Chance frowned slightly. “I go pretty fast. It won’t hurt him?”

  “What are you doing, training for a race?” Allen asked. When Chance shook his head, Allen went on. “Okay, no problem then. If you see Spot starting to tire out, slow down. But an ordinary run should be fine. Dogs love a chance to stretch their legs.”

  “I could take him with me when I go walking downtown,” Chance said, brightening. “Most places won’t let animals inside, but I mostly just window shop and sightsee. Charleston’s an awesome city. So many things to look at and do. Did you know that--”

  Laughing, Allen cut Chance off. “I’ve lived here my whole life. And it is a great place, agreed. But I think this big guy is all taken care of except for his shots. You’re sure he hasn’t had any before? And what about neutering?”

  Chance blanched a paler shade of white. “Neu-neutering?”

  Ah. Not the first virile young man who’d had that reaction. Allen rested his hand on the Dalmatian’s back and resisted the urge to launch into a pat lecture. “It’d be better for Spot unless you plan to breed him,” he said frankly. “Male Dalmatians tend to go a little crazy if they smell a female in heat.”

  “Oh.” Chance’s color began to come back. “It’s just I hadn’t thought about...” He swallowed. “Will it hurt Spot?”

  Again, not a new question. “Hardly at all,” Allen reassured Chance. “With the new procedures, he’d only have to stay overnight -- and that’d just be for observation. He won’t notice anything’s missing.”

  Chance shook his head, biting his lip. A picture flashed through Allen’s mind of leaning over and nibbling the tempting piece of flesh for him. His cock gave a twitch, as if to cast a “yea” vote in on the idea. Bad boy, he scolded that errant body part. Behave!

  “If you’re sure...”

  “I am,” Allen replied, firm as he could be. “When you check out at the front desk, talk to the woman there. Miranda can help you set up an appointment to get the procedure done. We usually do them on Fridays, so you could get in as early as next week.”

  Chance swallowed, but nodded. “Okay...” He petted Spot. “If you’re sure it won’t hurt.”

  Allen ached with the need to reach over and stroke Chance as if Chance were the dog. One smooth, slow glide over his shoulder and down his arm. Allen cleared his throat to cover his reaction and his body’s eager encouragement to go for the touch. If he followed through, it would only lead to tears. He’d been down this road before. The young and gorgeous were not for him. For innocents like Chance, men with time on their side just didn’t get an older guy, even if the latter was wise enough to know what he was -- or wasn’t -- doing.

  Oh, yeah, Allen knew from personal experience what a mistake it would be. Joey... Ah, hell, don’t think about Joey. Damn brat. Great sex, shitty attitude. God, I’m glad he’s gone. That’ll teach me to have one-night stands with men who have the potential for turning into psychos. But don’t start dredging those memories up. Just... don’t.

  With a reaffirmation of his position on dating firmly in place in his mind, Allen nodded. “Trust me.”

  “Oh, I do.” Chance’s blue eyes came up, full of nothing but admiration. “I’ve been watching the way you handle him. He likes you. You must be a good man.”

  “I try.”

  Chance wet his lips with the tip of a small pink tongue. “Do you ever run?” he asked, sounding completely innocuous. “Maybe you could go with me sometime to make sure I’m not working Spot too hard.”

  And that, ladies and gentlemen, would be a bad, bad idea. “I don’t run,” Allen lied.

  “Really?” Chance’s forehead wrinkled. “You look like a runner. You’ve got the build.”

  He’s been checking out your build! a part of Allen’s brain celebrated. He firmly squashed it down. Professional. Ethics. Professional. Ethics. Remember these words. “Nah. I like to use the treadmill, but that’s it.” With a final pat and scratch to the Dalmatian, Allen turned to the chart and wrote down a series of notes for the techs. “Full course of shots, including rabies, and make an appointment for him to be neutered.”

  Chance gazed at Allen. “Will you do it?” he asked earnestly. “You have a gentle touch.”

  He’s been noticing your touch! that same contrary voice exulted. Allen mentally kicked himself in the ass just as his cock twitched again. “Sorry,” he said, going for “sincere” but ending up uncomfortably close to “relieved.” “I only work three days a week, and I’m off on next Friday.
But Dr. Lancaster is working then, and she’s great. Really gentle. I’m sure Spot will love her.”

  Chance looked doubtful -- or was he a little disappointed? Allen couldn’t tell. The other man nodded with what seemed to be reluctance. “Okay. But when we come back in for follow-ups, I want you to be Spot’s doctor. Can you?”

  “You can always ask for me,” Allen said, mentally making a note to have a line written in Spot’s file that he could not, absolutely not, see this dog again. He liked the Dalmatian just fine, but the urge to fling himself at Spot’s owner was more than a little tempting, a complication he just didn’t need. “Now, I really do have to go. Take it easy, okay?”

  Chance’s smile flashed out, brilliant and white. “Thank you, Doctor...?”

  “Allen,” Allen replied automatically. “I mean, Dr. Michaels.” His inner tragedy mask mourned. He didn’t even remember your name. All right, this is getting out of hand.

  Allen made a few more notes in the chart. He could get a fellow vet to administer the series of vaccinations, and the more left to other folks the better. “Okay. Just wait here, and someone’s going to be along in a few minutes to give Spot his shots.” He put out his hand, for purely professional reasons, of course. All the same, he couldn’t help registering the radiant warmth and odd roughness of Chance’s palm. How’d such a young guy get callused hands like his? Weird. “You have a good day, now.”

  Tucking Spot’s file under his arm, Allen left, shutting the back door firmly and finally behind him. The wild confusion in the office had died down to a few techs moving back and forth; he was glad, because he had to collapse against the wall and fan himself.

  Good Lord. If he were closer to my age and gay besides... whoo! Liam can never find out about this. He’d never let me hear the end of it.

  Oh, yeah. Liam. Allen winced. T minus 1 day and counting. Then I’m stuck spending my Saturday night at a gay dance club. Oh, joy. Given the decision, I’d rather be back in there with temptation incarnate.

  Allen pushed himself off the wall and scanned the room for a colleague veterinarian who didn’t have their hands full, or at least one who’d be willing to fit this in before calling it a day. He himself had better things to do with his time than moon over blond and blue. Checking with Miranda about his tickets, for one.

  He’d be better off forgetting about the gorgeous, grope-worthy man he’d just met, because when it came to a guy that age who looked the way Chance did, Allen knew from past experience that at his age, closer to forty than thirty, he didn’t belong with the young and the hung -- sad and shameful as that part of his recent visit to the past had been. He could thank Joey the lunatic for that particular life lesson.

  Yep. Allen’s head was on straight these days when it came to bent young men, so he knew and was one-hundred-percent certain he had no chance at Chance.

  Chapter Two

  “Susan, hey, how’s it going?” Allen had just stepped out of his office again, but he paused long enough to address their janitor, a woman a few years older than him, maybe in her early forties. He liked Susan, even if she did resemble an older cat: cantankerous and wanting her own way. She reminded him of a thirteen-year-old orange tabby. Thirteen for luck.

  With a snort, the janitor reached up to pat her wiry sunset-orange bun into place. “Don’t you start flirting with me,” she said indignantly. “I know which side your bread is buttered on, and it ain’t mine. Go on, get out of my way. I got rooms to clean.”

  “Love your hair,” Allen said, carefully staying out of arm’s reach. Susan had been known to whack him with the mop handle on previous occasions. “The blond wasn’t working out for you?”

  “Honey, this is the blond... right after I went swimming in that damn pool down at the Y. Hairdresser says I’m lucky it didn’t turn green.” Susan huffed. “What are you doing here after closing time, anyway? Thought you’d be long gone by now. Unless you are flirting with me, in which case you need to see a head doctor.”

  “I had something to... oh, shit, the tickets. What time is it? Past five? Crap!” Allen darted in to kiss one of Susan’s light mocha cheeks, then escaped before he could be on the receiving end of her dirty mop. “Gotta run!”

  “You better run!” Susan shouted after Allen as he fled.

  Through the back room, out a plain wooden door, down the hallway, sprinting all the way to the front desk, where, thank God, Miranda was sitting in front of her computer with the Tickets, Tickets website brightly colored and live on the screen.

  Allen skidded to a stop beside her and pulled up one of the stiff new chairs with a rapid spin of its plastic wheels. He plunked down in the seat and reached out an over-eager hand for the mouse. “Did you get them? Are we in?”

  “Uh-uh! Mine.” Miranda tapped the top of Allen’s hand, pushing it aside. “See that little hourglass? This icon determines your fate when it comes to getting Sarah McLachlan tickets. All the information’s been put in, so be patient.”

  Allen leaned forward, intent on the spinning glass. “You were there right at five?” he queried anxiously. “Jumped right in?”

  “Like it was a pool full of hunky young things just ready for a hot night on the town.” Miranda grinned and elbowed Allen. “Sound good to you?”

  Allen winced. “Not so very.”

  “We’re not gonna go down that road again, are we? Speaking of which, what did you say to Chance? The dog was stepping light, but that little hottie owner was the one with his tail between his legs when he headed out of Exam Four.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Allen said absently. He kept his gaze glued to the screen. “Should it be taking this long?”

  Miranda shook her head. “I had a hell of a time before now,” she warned. “The site’s almost choked up. Seems like we weren’t the only people staking out tickets. Don’t get your hopes up too high. By the way, Mr. Hot is standing outside, looking like he’s got a problem. You think his car’s broken down or something?”

  Allen glanced out the window. Chance stood with Spot’s leash in one hand, anxiously looking to and fro across the parking lot. He didn’t seem too happy. Appeared to need a hand with something.

  Bad, bad idea. He’ll be okay.

  Allen glanced back at the screen. “Wait, wait, wait -- there!” He pointed in excitement. “The browser’s redirecting you. Maybe...” The two of them waited, Allen holding his breath. From what he could tell, so was Miranda.

  Then, miracle of miracles, a screen came up with a confirmation number. Tickets for two to an intimate acoustic concert with the famous singer! Allen let out a whoop, raising his hands to the skies, as Miranda slapped her palms together in victory. “You got ’em, Doc!”

  Allen began singing a few lines from Sarah’s latest. He didn’t have a bad voice if he said so himself, a nice light tenor, and he could stay in tune. Miranda giggled and joined in, the two rocking out until they reached the chorus and she stopped, tossing a wave of dark hair out of her face. “This is beyond awesome. So, who are you taking? Do I have a shot at that second ticket?”

  Allen cleared his throat and deliberately looked away. “I’m not going,” he muttered. “They’re for Ellie.”

  “Aw, man.” Miranda reached out to touch Allen’s hand. “God, that’s sweet. You should have said. I’d have tried even harder.”

  “I didn’t want to make it more of a thing than I already did.” Allen leaned back and loosened his tie. “Ellie loves Sarah more than I do.”

  “Pretty interesting statement from someone who plays for the other team.” Miranda cut him a purely innocent look, as if butter wouldn’t melt when slipped between those perfectly shaped lips. “You and your attempt at living the straight life are still spending time together? I know of at least a dozen marriages where the couples don’t get along as well as you and Ellie.”

  Allen shrugged. How he felt about his futile go at dating the “fairer sex” was a source of confusion, a mixed set of emotions running the gamut from past shame to honest p
leasure in her present company. “I see her now and then. We keep in touch mostly via e-mail.”

  “She going out with anyone?”

  “Ellie says no, she’s not. But I figure she can take a friend.”

  “Hmm.” Miranda drummed her nails on the counter. “So you don’t mind hanging out with your ex-gal-pal?”

  Puzzled, Allen shook his head. “No. We even had brunch a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Good.” Miranda began to type again, her fingers flying over plastic-shrouded keys, hand darting out for the mouse. “Because we’re getting you tickets, as well.”

  “Miranda!” Allen yelped, reaching to stop her -- too late. She’d already pulled up his credit card information and requested two more seats. The hourglass began to spin again. “Jesus, woman. How do you know I can even afford those?” He resisted the urge to give her a thwack. Men didn’t hit ladies, not even in fun. Men who were men didn’t hit anyone, no matter what the probable cause.

  He’d learned that the hard way with Joey.

  Miranda gave Allen a sidelong look. “You work here, don’t you? And, last I heard, that column of yours was doing pretty damn well.”

  “Yes, I work here, but what I’m paid doesn’t amount to a pile of pesos.” Allen paused with a frown. “How many pesos to the dollar, anyway?”

  “Got me,” Miranda replied absently. The “working” icon continued its lazy spin. “Don’t worry. I doubt we’ll get lucky a second time.”

  The bell over the front door sounded. Allen glanced up, but before he could react Miranda put her hand on his arm. “This one’s all mine,” she said with a quick, wicked grin. “Chance? Did you forget something?”

  The young man, sans dog, stood uncertainly in front of the check-in desk. “Um, can I use your phone?” he asked, twining his finger in his shiny golden hair. Allen deliberately refused to notice how cute the habitual movement was. “I don’t have a cell, and my car is kind of...”