Awakening His Shy Vet
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Shelley Rivers
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CHAPTER ONE
THE SMELL OF steak pie and the repeat firing of a machine gun made no sense to Ruby Day as she dragged open her heavy eyelids. The long drive from Cambridge to Dorset the previous night had left her exhausted and desperate for nothing but indulging in a further twenty-four hours’ worth of sleep.
Frowning at the hot breath fanning her suspiciously damp cheek, she focused blearily on the snoring grey Irish Wolfhound stretched out alongside her, hogging a good portion of the already space-challenged double bed. A slobbering pink tongue hung from his mouth only inches from her nose.
‘Dog,’ she growled softly. ‘When are you going to accept that this is my bed, not yours? I spent a small fortune on your bed—the least you can do is sleep on it occasionally.’
She wiped her cheek, wincing as hound saliva dampened her fingertips. Lovely. What every girl yearned for—doggy dribble for face cream. As if waking to the meaty aroma of canine breath wasn’t enough.
Sitting up, she reached for the blue dressing gown draped across the foot of the bed, jumping when loud banging suddenly vibrated through the caravan. Well, that explained the strange machine gun noise in her dream. Not a weapon of destruction, but someone knocking impatiently on the door of her home.
Pushing the still snoring long-legged dog to one side, Ruby slipped out from beneath the warm cover, gasping as her feet hit the cold black-and-white vinyl floor. Tiptoeing to the open bedroom door, she hesitated for a moment, hoping the person knocking would give up and leave. Conversation was the last thing she wanted before caffeine perked the sluggishness from her veins and settled her nerves.
‘Hello?’ a female voice called out, shattering Ruby’s hopes, before another round of banging resumed.
Whoever the woman was, she meant to get a reply, and Ruby doubted even the sinful dead charcoaling in hell would be able to ignore the noise.
‘Hi, it’s Kiki Morsi. I was wondering if you’d like a cup of tea?’
Ruby stared at the door and a kaleidoscope of thoughts kicked her heart into a galloping trot. Wasn’t the man she was here to have an interview with named Morsi? Was this woman his wife? Sister? Mother? Someone related to the man, anyway, and not someone she could just ignore.
Slowly creeping into the kitchen, Ruby eased over to the window by the kitchen sink, grateful that she’d lowered all the blinds the previous night. She’d learnt the hard way to guard her privacy over the years, when closing out the world had become a daily habit.
Leaning over the sink, Ruby felt the metal edge dig through the thin layer of her cotton pyjamas and into her stomach. She peeked through the small crack where the blind didn’t quite cover the window frame and got her first sight of her early-morning caller.
A small blonde woman wearing a green coat and a blue woolly hat topped with several multi-coloured pompoms stood in the veterinary practice’s car park. She cuddled a tortoiseshell cat against her chest, and an Old English Sheepdog sniffed intently at her left coat pocket. Apart from the hat, the cat and the dog, she appeared relatively normal.
‘Are you Mr Morsi’s wife?’ Ruby yelled out, grimacing seconds later at the stupidity of her query.
How dumb did she sound, yelling through a closed door with a question a ten-year-old would cringe at? And it didn’t matter who the woman was because she needed to go away—and fast.
The woman chuckled and glanced towards the window. ‘I am. Can I come in? I promise I’m friendly. It’s my husband who’s known to growl and occasionally bite.’
Ruby pulled back, her fingers digging into the sink’s sides. No way was she opening the door while she stood there in her Christmas reindeer pyjamas without a lick of make-up covering her skin. She never allowed anyone to see her without her face on. Not since her sixteenth birthday, when—
She shuffled away, wrapping her arms around her body, suddenly cold from the memory and the lack of heat in the caravan. No, don’t think about it. It never helped, and her nerves were already rattled over the upcoming interview without adding painful recollections from her past.
‘No!’ She winced at her bluntness, her nails digging into her elbows.
How to make friends, Ruby. Just keep insulting them and that should get you hated by even more people.
She sucked in a shaky breath, closed her eyes and tried again, ‘What I mean is, I—’
Ruby cursed silently. The woman would think her rude, whatever excuse she used, but too bad. She glared towards the bedroom at Dog, who lay content in the middle of her bed, showing a definite lack of the guard dog gene.
‘Wh-what I mean is,’ she stammered loudly, ‘I’m not dressed and the place is a mess. I’ll throw on some clothes and be out in ten...no...maybe twenty minutes.’
A pause followed, before the woman outside chuckled. ‘Great. Come and join us in Reception when you’re ready. Can’t wait to meet you, Ruby. Alex is excited too. And ignore my joke about him being growly. He’s a real sweetheart—honest!’
Letting out a sigh of relief at the sound of the woman’s retreating footsteps, Ruby slumped against the cupboard. What had happened to her alarm? She remembered setting it last night, after she’d driven into the car park. Alex Morsi had said she could pitch up here in his email, and after travelling for hours the last thing she’d felt like doing was searching for a caravan park. Most would be fully booked at this time of year anyway, with the schools about to break for the Easter holidays.
She straightened and headed for the bedroom, stepping on the crushed and mangled plastic remains of what used to be her alarm clock, scattered all over her bedroom floor. It was a miracle she hadn’t stepped on anything when she’d left the bedroom. Thankfully, the battery showed no signs of canine destruction.
Picking up the pieces, Ruby threw them into the wastepaper bin and glared at the sleeping dog. ‘I buy you a ton of toys and you eat my alarm clock on the one day I really need it to wake me. Are you trying to make my life harder, Dog? Do you not want me to find a job so we can settle in one place for a while?’
She smiled ruefully at the dog and shook her head.
‘You lie there, big boy. Let’s hope I can save this cluster of a mess and get through the interview without things getting any worse.’
Tugging a hand through the tangles of the black curly hair that hung in tight ringlets to her shoulders, she headed to the kitchen and retrieved a can of pre-made coffee from a cupboard. Pulling off the lid, she took a long swig, before moving to the small bathroom at the caravan’s opposite end.
Once washed and freshened, Ruby snatched up her make-up bag and a magnifying mirror from the shelving unit behind the door. Life in a caravan had taken some getting used to, but now Ruby loved it. When she got bored with a place, or things didn’t turn out great, she just packed up and left. No ties, no problems and no trouble.
Returning to the kitchen, she placed the make-up bag and mirror on the table and sat down on the padded seat. Unzipping the bag, she placed its contents carefully on the table, setting each item out in the order she intended to use them.
Picking up a small pot of concealer, two shades lighter than her own natural skin tone, she quickly and expertly sponged the cream over her face and along the length of her neck, taking extra time to camouflage the pink scarring that ran from underneath her jaw and finished just shy of her collarbone.
Once happy the scar no longer showed, Ruby applied powder in a matching colour to set the concealer. Next, she reached for black eyeliner, and with careful, expert strokes swiped a long thick line along the edge of her eyes, ending with an upward tilt at each corner.
Her fingers hovered for several moments over the various different eyeshadows in colours ranging from dark plum to golden-brown. Finally, she chose and applied a shimmering metallic blue shade. A generous brush of thick black mascara finished her eyes perfectly.
Fluttering her eyelashes, she stared at her reflection for a second before reaching for a blue lipstick. Several slick swipes and her eyes and lips matched. A clean cotton bud wiped superfluous lipstick from the silver ring in the centre of her lower lip.
With a final spray of face mist to set the make-up in place, she took one last glance in the mirror. Transformation completed and armour on. Now she could face the next hour and the upcoming interview.
‘Hello, Ruby Day. Time to face the world again.’
She studied her reflection for a moment longer, taking in the black curly hair and the pale skin hiding the scar. Eyes large and dramatic...lips full and plump. A face to show to a cold and uncaring public who loved to revel in other people’s misery with morbid interest. The perfect face to hide behind in a world that chose to see only the make-up and not to search further to learn who the woman was underneath.
That suited Ruby. With this make-up nobody instantly recognised her mother’s model face in hers. No one compared her to her parent or asked about the father she’d supposedly betrayed. With this make-up people didn’t gaze at her with pity, interest or horror.
At sixteen years old, her teenage self had learnt several hard lessons, and one was how to create a defence against the hurt and pain others wanted to inflict on her. Over time her make-up and clothes had become her secure shield.
She turned the mirror upside down, hiding her reflection from view, and stood. She walked into the bedroom and changed into a pair of tight black jeans and a black T-shirt with a large silver cross on the front. After adding several silver bracelets and a necklace with a large silver and blue heart dangling from it, she finally tugged on black leather boots.
If her make-up didn’t send Alex Morsi into convulsions, her clothes definitely would.
She finished the outfit off with a fitted vintage black velvet jacket that had once belonged to her mother. She stroked a hand over the soft, smooth material—it was one of the few items she’d kept from the past, and a connection to the woman she loved and missed every day.
With a final quick check in the full-length mirror attached to the back of the bedroom door, she grabbed her black leather handbag and left the room.
Alex Morsi and his staff would no doubt be like all the other practices she’d applied to. Ready to dismiss her application the minute they set eyes on her. After all, who employed someone who dressed with an unmistakable Goth vibe? No one who owned a veterinary practice, that was for sure.
This whole trip to Dorset was nothing but a waste of time and petrol money. Why she had promised her old tutor, Professor Handel, to give it one last go, she didn’t know. Misplaced gratitude, probably. The woman had frequently gone out of her way to help Ruby during the years she’d studied at college, becoming more than a tutor—she’d become a real friend.
Ruby already dreaded the evening phone call she’d promised to make, when she’d have to confess that, yet again, she’d not secured the position. Though for some reason, Professor Handel had insisted that Alex Morsi was different.
Yeah, right. No doubt Morsi was another middle-aged vet who wore tweed and fashioned himself on the old television dramas so often repeated on TV.
She was tired of it all. Not just driving miles to each interview, but the horrified expressions that greeted her appearance and the hastily concocted excuses and promises to call back—calls she never received. So what if she dressed differently and liked dramatic make-up? Her clothes made her feel safe and able to face the world.
No one complained or looked strangely at ordinarily dressed candidates when they turned up for an interview.
But no more, Ruby decided, snatching up a bunch of keys from the kitchen table. The events of the past had left her with no choice but to dress and look this way. After this interview she was done trying. Time to finally face reality and pack away the dream of becoming a practising vet for good.
Kern MacKinley lay on the grass, staring up at the sky, almost gagging on the bitter taste of failure. Memories old and painful gnawed and tore at his conscience, burning reminders of a past he’d done his damnedest to bury and forget.
Nineteen years he’d stayed away from this farm. Nineteen long, exciting years filled with the heady, sweet taste of ambition and success. Nineteen years of hard work and determination, during which everything he’d hoped and dreamed of professionally had come true. Wonderful, perfect days, weeks and months filled with glory and triumph as he clawed, climbed and fought to build his reputation as one of the top racehorse trainers in the country—if not the world.
He was a man people admired and looked up to. Someone whose work ethic and training methods they respected and revered.
But now he lay on the Dorset land of his childhood and everything he’d built and achieved during those heady nineteen years sat in failure and decay. Ruined beyond hope or fixing. Thirty-eight years old and he had nothing left in his life but regret and heartbreak after all those years battling to be one of the best in horse racing.
Now he was nothing more than a lousy failure!
The only thing that had survived the bloody carnage was now so broken it might have been kinder if she’d died with the rest. Then at least her pain and sorrow wouldn’t be trapped inside her, like a festering wound waiting to explode.
Rubbing a hand over the ache in his chest, he sighed, his eyes following a cloud as it floated above him. There was no one to blame for the whole horrendous mess but his own sweet self. He’d purposely stuck his pig-stubborn head in the ground and pretended not to see the problems stewing in his personal life—or listen to the one person who mattered.
And what had his obstinacy cost him?
Everything.
His reputation, three prized racehorses who’d deserved his protection, and the woman he’d once upon a time promised to love and treasure. The woman who, despite the problems in their relationship, had deserved his help when it might have made a difference. Before it had all finally been amplified into the catastrophe it had become.
Closing his eyes, he refused to picture her face, burying the image in the murky pit of denial. Even now, after everything, it was still a habit he found himself unable to break. Better to hold back than confront the unpleasant facts of what his selfishness had driven another person to do.
Opening his eyes, he forced his mind to the present. All he owned sat in two cardboard boxes on the passenger seat of the old horsebox parked not far away, together with one emotionally damaged horse, five thousand pounds in his pocket, an old inheritance he didn’t want and a throbbing hangover courtesy of the bottle of vodka that had kept him company last night.
His life was well and truly stuffed.
Ignoring the pressing discomfort of a full bladder, he continued to stare unseeingly at the sky. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Two days ago he’d come back to Dorset so his wife’s ashes could finally be scattered in her family’s special spot, and he’d stayed.
Where did a has-been go when the world turned away, determined and eager to forget him?
The recent months had left him with no choice but to sell everything he’d worked for, to pay his debts and walk away. Forcing him to accept charity and hand-outs from people he’d never considered friends, while the ones he’d thought were had deserted him without even a goodbye.
Out of habit, he reached for his mobile, resting in the centre of his bare chest, and checked for messages. His thumb slipped over the screen in pathetic hope. Hope that quickly died after several seconds. Nothing except a message from his service provider, notifying him that he needed credit.
No one called any more. These days his phone stayed silent because his name was shrouded in whispers, gossip and scandal. He was someone no sane person in the racing world wanted to trust with the care of their precious thoroughbred livestock. A trainer no one wanted to touch. The last nineteen years had all been for nothing.
What the hell was he going to do now?
Everything was wrecked because he hadn’t seen the damage that chasing after his dreams had caused to the one person he should have protected and helped.
God, what an idiot he was.
A noise drew his attention back to the sky. Three white gulls flew above him, squawking as they went. Their large wings flapped in perfect timing as they headed some place new.
A rare smile tugged at Kern’s lips. ‘Have a safe journey—’
Suddenly something swooped over him. A second later a small red and brown robin landed on his bare stomach.
‘Well, hello,’ he whispered, not wanting to scare the bird.
Small dark eyes stared back, before the robin started pecking at the wiry hairs circling Kern’s tummy button.
‘Ouch! No. That’s attached, you little—’
Kern registered something wet and warm on his skin a second after the robin flew off. Glancing down, he saw bird droppings splattered across his stomach.
Great, even the wildlife wanted to echo how crap his life was.
‘Thanks!’ he yelled to the long-gone bird. ‘Like I need the reminder.’
Rolling onto his feet, Kern stared at the river that marked the edge of MacKinley land. Dressed in nothing but blue boxers, he strolled towards it, feeling the damp grass cushioning his footsteps, the green blades tickling his toes.
It was the same river where he’d played and swum during his childhood. He’d kissed his first sweetheart and eagerly tried to lose his virginity behind the bushes that grew in places along the bank. It was where he’d thought up boyhood daydreams and big plans. Back when his mother had run the place and kept his stepfather out of Kern’s business.
A time before she’d betrayed him and everything he’d once thought true. Long before he’d fallen in love with a neighbour’s youngest daughter and run away with her. Before he’d married her and formed a new life away from their families. A time before he’d bought his first racehorse and won his first major trophy.
Coming to a halt on the bank, he dug his toes into the grass and breathed in a lungful of sharp morning air. Wriggling the gold wedding ring off his finger, he glanced at it for several long seconds, sad that its familiar sight no longer stirred any emotions. Was he so far gone now that she’d ripped even that from him? Killed the last threads of his affection so that the act of removing this ring for the first time in nineteen years left him feeling nothing?
Drawing his arm back, he threw the ring into the air, watching as it flew, then dropped, breaking through the water’s surface with a loud, distinct plop.
Now that last connection was gone too. Relegated to nothing but a memory to shovel on to the huge pile of disappointment his life had become.
He’d returned to this old run-down farm because there was no other place to go.
With that final thought, he jumped into the freezing water, gasping as it swirled over his skin and froze every inch of his body.
Scrambling back out of the water, his fingers grasping at the mud and grass, he crawled onto the bank with all the style and finesse of a flapping, gaping fish. Bent over on all fours, he dragged air into his shocked lungs as his mind vaguely registered the loss of feeling in his body.
How the hell had he forgotten how cold the river was? His life was already on the slide, without adding the agony of self-inflicted frozen body parts too.
They were staring. After years of enduring similar behaviour from strangers, Ruby had expected it and now fought the urge to stick out her tongue. Every time she arrived somewhere new the stares began, triggering prickles of tension as she prepared for the remarks and insults that followed. The nosy, ridiculous questions that always ended up becoming too personal.
She pretended not to notice as she stepped into the reception area. Closing the door, she caught the faint smell of disinfectant in the air, mixed with the whiff of rich coffee. Two women stood behind the counter. One she recognised as Kiki Morsi—the other was a grey-haired older woman.
‘Ruby?’ With a smile, Kiki stepped from behind the counter and walked over to greet her. Dressed in blue animal print scrubs, she held out a hand in welcome. ‘It’s lovely to meet you. I hope you didn’t mind my knocking earlier? Only I’ve been so looking forward to your arrival.’
Not sure what to say, Ruby shook Kiki’s hand, conscious of the intense gaze of the woman at the counter.
‘My husband’s finishing some paperwork and other important chores he apparently has to see to,’ Kiki continued. ‘I suspect they involve cuddling and singing to our daughter. Come and meet Anne.’
The woman behind the counter leaned forward. Her smile was wide and genuine. ‘Nice to meet you, Ruby. Is your hair naturally curly, or thanks to chemicals and a skilled hairdresser?’
Stunned, Ruby stared at the woman before answering. Of all the things she’d expected, comments on her hair wasn’t one of them. ‘It’s natural.’
‘It’s very pretty,’ Kiki agreed, tilting her head to one side. ‘Much better than my boring straight blonde mop. I’m going bald, you know—’
‘You’ve just had a baby,’ Anne interrupted. ‘I keep telling you it will grow back. It’s your messed-up hormones.’
‘That’s what Alex dared to say the last time we disagreed.’ Kiki sighed. ‘Until I threatened to stick his expert opinion somewhere uncomfortable. Anyway, enough about me and the love of my life. Tell me all about yourself, Ruby.’
‘Ignore her, dear,’ Anne said. ‘She’s recently returned from maternity leave and she’s trying to get her fix of female conversation and gossip before she starts work for the day.’
Kiki grinned and nodded. ‘All true. Though she forgot to mention that I’m incredibly nosy, too.’
Ruby laughed, envying the women’s easy camaraderie. Their chattiness was something she wasn’t used to and had never experienced for herself. Normally people avoided talking to her or just stared.
‘So you live in that box, do you?’ Anne asked, pointing out of the large window to Ruby’s caravan.
Ruby stiffened, waiting for further remarks about her unusual home. Okay, it might not be everyone’s idea of home, but she loved it. It was her sanctuary. Her place to escape when she required a private moment alone. Her ‘Ruby’ space, where she could lower her walls, wash off her make-up and be her true self.
‘Yes.’
Anne shivered and folded her arms on the counter. ‘Must get cold in the winter. It would play my old bones up something awful.’
It did get cold, but Ruby refused to admit it and felt a silly need to defend her home take hold. ‘Actually, it’s quite cosy.’
The sound of someone clearing his throat stopped further conversation.
Ruby turned to find a tall, dark-haired man frowning at the blonde woman at her side. His serious expression was a sharp contrast with the pink baby carrier strapped to his waist, holding a wriggling and softly grunting child.
His eyes flicked to Ruby, lingered for a second before returning to Kiki. ‘Our daughter needs feeding.’
Kiki smiled, her expression softening as she gazed at the man and child. ‘Stop frowning—you’ll scare Ruby away. I’ll get Neeve’s bottle for you. Be nice.’
The man grunted, then returned his full attention to Ruby. His eyes narrowed for several seconds, before he held out his hand. ‘Miss Day?’
Seized by nerves, Ruby grappled for her courage before placing her hand in his. She tried to speak, but her voice wouldn’t work.
Not the tweed-wearing country vet she’d imagined, but although he was good-looking and young, Alex Morsi still gave off an unapproachable air that told her she didn’t have any hope of getting a job at his practice. No doubt he was already figuring out a way to get rid of her and save himself the inconvenience of having to go through with the interview.
‘I’m Alex Morsi.’ He rubbed a loving hand over the baby’s back, glancing to the older woman behind the desk. ‘Anne, have you sent anyone to MacKinley farm yet?’
‘Nope. Eloise said her nephew wanted you to go.’
Alex frowned and shook his head. ‘I’m too busy with Neeve.’ He glanced once again in Ruby’s direction. ‘Miss Day can go. From what I’ve read and heard, horses are her passion and her area of expertise.’
Kiki returned, carrying a bottle of baby’s milk and a cloth. She handed both to her husband with a frown. ‘Her name’s Ruby, Alex.’
‘I know,’ Alex murmured, taking the bottle and throwing the cloth over his shoulder. ‘Your CV states that you have a strong interest in equine health and have volunteered at several horse rescue centres in order to work with a couple of top specialists. Professor Handel also mentioned your gift.’
Ruby stiffened, unsure how to answer. How much had her old professor divulged about her supposed ‘gift’? Neither of them had made it public knowledge during her training. Why had her mentor and friend trusted this man with the information?
Forcing herself to meet Alex’s eyes, Ruby found only curiosity in his gaze. Deciding it might be best to blag her way through the rest of the conversation, while she tried to gauge how much he actually knew, she nodded. ‘Yes, I loved helping out and I found the work fascinating.’
‘Good. I’d like to observe you in action some time.’
Ruby didn’t know what to say, so she stayed quiet. Should she trust his apparent interest or not? Did he want to watch her so he could afterwards pooh-pooh her gift as nothing but a charlatan’s work? Surely Professor Handel should have warned her that she had told Alex Morsi about it.
Alex nodded, taking her silence as agreement. ‘So you’re the best person to deal with this visit, Miss Day. Anne will give you directions to the farm. No point relying on satnav—it’s useless out there.’
Confused, Ruby asked, ‘You want me to go and see a horse?’
Alex nodded. ‘Yes. The owner wants a general check done. Nothing you can’t manage. His name is Kern MacKinley. Have you heard of him?’
She shook her head. ‘No.’
‘He’s a racehorse trainer,’ Anne piped up. ‘Damn good one too. Never met him, so I have no idea what he’s like to deal with, but he’s in the area and he wants his horse looked over. It isn’t a good traveller or something. Nothing major or concerning, but best you go out and put the man’s mind at ease.’
‘Okay...’
‘Don’t worry, dear,’ Anne said, writing something in a notebook. ‘You’ll be fine. I don’t know Kern MacKinley—do know his aunt, though. Wonderful woman. Blunt to the point of rudeness, but honest to deal with. I’ve seen the nephew on television, of course. Handsome man...if you like them rough and smelling of horses. Avoid the stepfather if he’s about. My Harry gets on with him well enough, but I’ve no time for the man.’
‘I’ll pop your tea in a flask, shall I?’ Kiki asked brightly. ‘You can take it with you. I think there are a couple of spare chocolate croissants in the kitchen too.’
Ruby frowned as Kiki rushed off again. Was this some bizarre dream?
She turned to Alex and asked, ‘But don’t you want to interview me?’
He sighed. ‘Isn’t Professor Handel’s endorsement enough? She spoke very highly of you during our phone call the other day.’
‘I—I don’t know...’ she stammered. ‘Is it?’
‘Miss Day, can you do the job? Are your qualifications real and up to date?’
Pulling herself together before she ruined this chance, Ruby nodded. ‘Yes, of course they are.’
‘Then off you go. I’ve no time to waste on interviewing you when my daughter needs feeding. It’s best you learn, Miss Day, that my family always comes first. We can chat later, when you return, and go through everything you need to know. Will that please you?’
Ruby’s mouth fell open as he walked away, kissing his wife on the head as they passed each other.
‘It’s Ruby, Alex,’ Kiki reminded him brightly.
He snorted. ‘I know. Until later, Miss Day.’
Kiki held out a blue flask to Ruby. ‘My husband’s really sweet when you get used to him. A year or two should do it.’
Confused, Ruby took the flask. ‘He did give me a job, didn’t he? I have that right?’
‘Oh, yes. Trust me—Alex wouldn’t let you near a client if he wasn’t sure you knew your stuff. I’m sure he quizzed Professor Handel and checked your qualifications thoroughly.’ She smiled once more and shoved a plastic bag holding two croissants Ruby’s way. ‘Welcome to the family, Ruby. It’s good to have you here.’
