Awakening His Shy Vet Read online

  “You okay, Ruby?” Kern asked.

  Startled from her musings, Ruby glanced up to find him regarding her. “You appeared to be off in a private dreamworld.”

  No, not dreaming, but reinstating some common sense. Attraction to anyone was a weakness, which led to mistakes. She didn’t want to repeat the hurt of misplacing her trust. She’d survived it once. Better not to test her resolve a second time.

  He reached out and touched her chin, his long fingers warm against her skin. “Hey, where’s your smile gone?”

  She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Smile?”

  “That pretty one you showed me last night,” he said softly. His thumb slid along the curve of her jaw before he let it fall away.

  She returned her gaze to the box and frowned down at the contents. “I did not smile at you.”

  “Yes, you did. Almost stopped my heart it was so unexpected.”

  Dear Reader,

  We all have scars, don’t we?

  Whether they’re external and clear to see or internal and hidden away deep inside.

  Kern and Ruby have their own scars. Ones due to past experiences and situations they found themselves in. Now both are determined to protect themselves from further disappointment and pain. Refusing to consider that there might be something wonderful waiting for them if they’d just be brave.

  The moment they meet, neither has any idea how circumstances will bring them together. Soon they discover that what their head tells them is right and sensible is very different to what their heart desires. Together they need to decide if the risk of being hurt is worth the chance of finding love.

  Thank you for choosing to spend time with them. I hope you enjoy their journey and romance.

  Take care,

  Shelley xxx

  Awakening His Shy Vet

  Shelley Rivers

  Shelley Rivers is a Bournemouth girl who spent most of her childhood reading. Married with a family, she now splits most of her time between reading, writing and pampering to the whims of her hilarious greyhound. Her hobbies include lopsided sewing, holey knitting and collecting old stuff that no one else sees the beauty in.

  Books by Shelley Rivers

  Harlequin Medical Romance

  Tempted by the Brooding Vet

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  For Mum—thank you for always encouraging the weirdness and the love of color.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM A PUP TO RESCUE THEIR HEARTS BY ALISON ROBERTS

  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.

&nb
sp; 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.