The Summer of No Attachments by Lori Foster

Ivey Anders shoved back a wayward curl and gently secured the dog against her body so it couldn’t move while her tech, Hope Mage, carefully clipped away the twisted wire. The poor thing, a stray by the looks of it, had gotten itself tangled pretty tightly and one hind leg was in bad shape. Ivey wanted to get it to the clinic where she could properly assess the damage.

Mud caked the fur, making it difficult to find any other injuries just yet, but there was one astounding fact Ivey couldn’t ignore.

Behind her, the homeowner groused that the dog had likely been stealing eggs from his chicken coop.

Voice calm, temper mostly in check, Ivey said, “You didn’t hesitate to call me, did you, Marty?” It was well-known that Marty was not a fan of dogs, or cats for that matter, and mostly considered them a nuisance. However, they’d come to an agreement some time ago. Marty, who owned a fair amount of wooded acreage, was supposed to call her if a stray showed up, and she, as the local vet, would take care of the “problem” for him.

Laura, his wife, was quick to say, “I called.” Defiant to Marty, she added, “Soon as I heard the poor thing, in fact.”

Which didn’t mean much. The animal might have been there for hours. Possibly more than a day, though Ivey couldn’t bear the thought of that.

“She’s pregnant, you know.” Refusing to take her eyes off the dog and unwilling to raise her voice since it might frighten the animal more, Ivey said, “If she took an egg, it would have been from starvation—and you already know I would have compensated you for it.”

Affronted, Marty grumbled, “I wasn’t worried about one egg, just don’t want to lose my chickens.” He cleared his throat. “If it helps any, I was out here this morning and she wasn’t caught then. Afternoon I watered my garden, and that’s why there’s so much mud. So I doubt she was hung up there more than a few hours.”

The fist around Ivey’s heart loosened just a little. “That helps tremendously, Marty. Thank you.”

More times than she could count, Ivey had taken on problems with stray animals who needed special love and care. It didn’t matter that she’d been working as a veterinarian for years now, seeing all manner of hurt, neglected or just plain ill animals. She still loved them all, and when one hurt, she hurt with it.

“No thanks necessary,” Marty complained, his tone gruff with insult. “Not like I’d let an animal suffer.”

Ivey had a feeling their definitions of suffer varied a bit, but she realized this mattered to him, and she was too grateful to quibble so she just nodded.

“Almost got it,” Hope murmured, and with one last clip, the wire loosened. “There.” Fingers gentle, she disentangled the dog’s leg, exposing a painful wound.

Ivey murmured to the small animal all the while, cooing softly, petting and holding her secure. The second she was able to sit back on the muddy ground, she pulled the dog into her lap. With her face close to the top of the dog’s head, she whispered, “There now, that’s better, isn’t it? We’ll get you all fixed up, I promise.”

“Here.” Slipping off her zip-up hoodie, Hope offered it to Ivey to wrap around the dog. “Do you want me to get the carrier?”

Busy swaddling the dog, careful not to jar her, Ivey shook her head. “She doesn’t weigh more than ten or eleven pounds. I’ll carry her to the truck and we’ll see how it goes.” Feeling mud seep into the seat of her pants, she realized she couldn’t get up without letting go of the dog. Lifting a brow at Hope, she said, “A little help?”

“Oh sure.” Hope caught her under one elbow, and Laura hurried forward to take the other, giving her the leverage she needed.

Marty stepped back to avoid getting muddy.

Carefully, the two women got Ivey on her feet. The thick mud was heavy on the seat of her pants, dragging on her stretch jeans that had loosened throughout the day. At least her rubber boots wouldn’t be ruined. Since they treated all sorts of animals, including those on farms, she and Hope each kept a pair at the clinic.

“Let’s go.” Plodding forward, Ivey led the way to the truck. Halfway there, the dog started panting. Concerned, she hastened her step, not at all worried about getting mud on the truck seats. “No need for the crate. Just get us back to the clinic.”

Picking up on her angst, Hope ran around to the driver’s side and got the truck on the road in record time. “Everything okay?”

“Not really, no. Something’s wrong.”

“What should I do?”

Poor Hope. A sick cat had kept them an hour past closing, and then Marty had called... “I’m sorry.” Ivey barely took her gaze off the stressed dog. “Do you think you could assist me at the clinic?”

“Of course I will! You don’t even have to ask.” Frowning, Hope muttered, “Did you think I’d drop you off with a dog in distress? Tell you good luck?” She snorted. “Have I ever done that?”

She and Hope were close enough that Ivey knew she’d inadvertently insulted her. “No, you haven’t. But it’s Friday night after a very long day.”

“It’s Friday night for you, too, you know.”

“What a sad situation for us both.” Despite her worries, Ivey chuckled. “Most women would have plans, and yet we never do.”

“You have Geoff.”

Ivey made a face. “Lot of good that does me.” Likely Geoff was settled on the couch already, watching sports or playing a video game. The excitement had left their relationship a long time ago, so she doubted he’d even notice her absence.

For her part, Hope never dated. That bothered Ivey a lot, but she loved Hope enough that she would never pry.

Smiling at her friend, Ivey said, “I’m glad I won’t have to do this alone.”

“Not ever,” Hope vowed. “Even if by some miracle I ever do have something worthwhile lined up for the weekend, I’d still be here for you, okay?”

Her friendship with Hope meant so much more than any other relationship Ivey had, including her lackluster romance with Geoff. “Smartest thing I ever did was hire you.”

“I’m so glad you did,” Hope whispered. “Otherwise we might not have become friends, then where would I be?”

“Let’s just agree that we’re better off together.” Though Ivey was ten years older than Hope, they’d still hit it off from the start, meshing together as if they’d been lifelong friends. Where Ivey was take-charge and sometimes a little too outspoken, Hope was an intent listener with an enormous heart.

Ivey often wanted to challenge the world, and Hope, sadly, wanted to hide from it.

Or more accurate, she wanted to hide from any interested men.

Hope had an affinity with animals, plus a gentle but sure touch. She was never squeamish, but she exuded sympathy. Ivey valued her. The clients loved her. And the animals trusted her.

Unfortunately, they were still five minutes away from the clinic when the dog went into labor. “This is definitely happening,” Ivey said, doing what she could to make the animal comfortable.

Leaning closer to the steering wheel, Hope drove a little faster. “Be there soon.”

They’d barely gotten in the door when her water broke. Hope ran ahead to prepare an area, moving with practiced ease as she opened an already cleaned kennel and set up a whelping box, then filled it with bedding material. The box had three tall sides to contain the coming puppies, and one low side for the mother to step out for food and water.

Knowing Hope had it in hand, Ivey began cleaning the dog as quickly and efficiently as possible. She managed a cursory job, removing the worst of the mud, when Hope rejoined her. “We’re all set.”

“With luck we’ll have enough time to clean and wrap her leg before she gives birth.” Usually that happened within two hours after the animal’s water breaking, so they didn’t have a minute to spare.

A day that had already been long just turned entirely endless.

One month later, bright and early on a sunny Monday morning, Ivey came into the clinic through the employee door around back. May in Sunset, Kentucky, was a time for short sleeves, sunglasses and summer fun.

Ivey had the first two and was working on the third in her own sweet time.

Honestly, she felt good. Better than she had in a while. Like she’d recently cleaned out her closets to get rid of outdated styles, or as if she’d shed ten unwanted pounds.

With a grin, she thought it was more like two hundred unwanted pounds. Named Geoff.

Things had been going downhill for a while, and finally, Friday night, she’d mustered her backbone and broken things off with him. What an awful confrontation that had been!

Later that night she’d second-guessed everything she’d said to him.

Saturday, with Geoff gone and her day open, she’d been at loose ends, wondering what to do next.

By Sunday she’d realized the freedom.

And now, Monday, she chose to see the world in a whole new light.

Geoff did not. He’d called twice on Saturday and twice on Sunday. Each time he’d started out cajoling and ended up making nasty accusations.

Because she, awesome woman that she was, couldn’t be swayed. Not by a man who had taken her for granted.

Regrets? Nope, she had none.

For two years she and Geoff had been a thing. A loose thing. A thing with no real goals. A dead-end relationship type of thing that was more about convenience for him and uncertainty for her. It had left her unsatisfied—in more ways than one. It had left her uncertain about her own appeal. It had left her feeling needy, but no more.

She didn’t need marriage.

She didn’t need a partner.

Sex... Well, okay, she liked that every so often, but that didn’t require a committed relationship. This was going to be her summer of no attachments. If she needed physical comfort, well, by God, she could “hook up” like so many people did. Find an attractive guy, one who could hold her interest for a few hours, and then move on.

It was her new MO. Freedom. Putting her desires first. It didn’t matter that she’d been born an old soul with no interest in partying or bars or clubs. In college, when everyone else had reveled on the weekends, she’s volunteered at a local shelter.

Now, being a beloved—by the animals she treated, at least—local veterinarian, her days were fairly mundane. And once she left work, her evenings were mostly dedicated to Maurice, her aging cat. Geoff hadn’t liked Maurice much. Maurice had felt the same about Geoff.

She should have trusted her cat. At fifteen, Maurice had very good instincts.

As she made her way through the clinic, Ivey heard barking and smiled. Daisy, the little Jack-a-bee dog she’d rescued from Marty’s farm, still lived at the clinic with her three adorable puppies.

Making a beeline to the private kennel where Daisy slept each night, Ivey called out, “It’s me, love.”

Anticipation silenced the barking.

The second she opened the door, Daisy’s tail started swinging, but her big beautiful eyes were filled with wary adoration. The plump little puppies tumbled over one another in play, paying no attention as Ivey came in to sit close to the little dog. She scratched under Daisy’s chin and petted along her back.

“You’re such a sweet girl. Still so shy though.” Her leg had healed nicely, though she now had a scar. She’d been through so much, but from the birth of the first pup she’d been such an excellent mama. “What did you go through, baby, to make you so timid?”

Ducking her face, Daisy snuggled closer.

“It’s all right, love. You can be timid if you want. I don’t mind.”

During the day, Daisy had free run of much of the clinic, as long as it didn’t involve the areas where other animals might run into her. The puppies were kept contained with a low temporary barrier across the bottom of the kennel door. Daisy could step over it, but the puppies could not.

Sighing, Ivey figured Daisy would loosen up in her own time and not before. Hope would be in soon, but until then, she opened the door that let Daisy and her puppies into a small enclosed yard with grass and sunshine, then she went about rinsing the water bowl and refilling it with fresh water, and putting out dry food.

Daisy immediately found her favorite spot to enjoy the sunshine. The puppies followed, one happy to nurse, one chasing a fly, the other plopping down to nap near her mama’s neck.

There were plenty of enrichment items in the outdoor pen, like toys, chews and flexible tunnels, ensuring Daisy got exercise and the pups could play and learn.

Oh, how she’d miss them if...when, she found them homes.

Hope stepped up beside her. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” She knew exactly what Hope meant.

Hope followed Ivey as she headed inside to check the schedule. “You say the right words, but anyone seeing your eyes knows you aren’t going to part with Daisy, maybe not with her babies, either.”

Was she really that transparent? “It just bothers me.” Without waiting for Hope to ask, Ivey explained. “People see the puppies and automatically want one.” In a high false voice, she said, “They’re so little and cute.” Then with an eye roll, “They look right past Daisy, but she’s what the puppies will look like in a few more months. Puppies don’t stay puppies. If they don’t love the dog—”

Hope raised a hand. “You’re preachin’ to the choir, sister. If I was allowed to have pets in my rinky-dink apartment, I’d be all about Daisy.” She made a face. “And okay, the pups, too. Heck, I’d start my own menagerie.”

Ivey grinned as she watched Hope flip back her dark, baby-fine hair. It was a gesture Hope used when making a point. A sort of “Hmph” expression.

“You’ll find a new place soon.” Not that Sunset had a lot of rental properties. Most people tended to buy their homes, but at only twenty-one, Hope wasn’t quite there yet.

“Well, speaking of that...could I ask a favor?”

Since Hope never asked for anything, of course Ivey said, “Anything.”

“A lakefront home out by Marty’s farm was recently sold. A big house with a lot of land. I don’t know if you remember it.”

“It’s surrounded by woods, right?”

“Yup, that’s the one. The people who lived there had a guesthouse that the wife’s mother lived in. Now that the mother has passed, they decided it was all too much for them, so they sold it, and the new owner wants to rent out that space.”

Finally catching on, Ivey put down the report she’d been skimming and turned to Hope with a grin. “You’re thinking of renting it?”

Excitement made Hope’s dark blue eyes brighter. “It’s so beautiful, Ivey. Near the lake and still close enough to the clinic that I wouldn’t have a long drive to work. And it’s private. I mean, I can see the main house, but I’d have my own driveway and my own little deck.” She drew a breath. “I already talked to the owner—a single father who’s new to the area—and he’s holding it for me until I go there tonight to check it out. After that, he’ll have to show it to other people.”

Immediately, Ivey knew the issue. “You want company when you go?”

Now that it was out in the open, Hope seemed to wilt with relief. “Would you? I know it’s dumb, but I just can’t—”

“Hey.” Ivey leaned against the counter and smiled. “I’d die of curiosity if I didn’t see it, too. And, Hope? You don’t have to explain to me, okay? I get it.”

“Thank you.” Hope blew out a breath. “It’s right after work, but I only found out this morning or I’d have said something last night.”

“Maurice won’t mind waiting a little longer for his dinner. Odds are he’ll be sleeping until I get home anyway.” If she thought too much about how Maurice had slowed down, she’d turn melancholy.

Searching her face, Hope asked, “What about Geoff?”

“He’s history. Both gone and forgotten.”

Surprise took Hope back a step. “That was fast.”

“Happened Friday night, actually.”

“Why the heck didn’t you tell me?”

It was true, they usually shared everything, yet this time Ivey had hesitated. She picked up the report again, turned it in her hands, then admitted, “At first, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.”

“So you didn’t want to discuss it?”

She gave it some thought. “I think I just needed to come to terms with it first.”

Just then the receptionist, Karen, breezed in with her usual cheerful greeting as she quickly set up for the day’s appointments.

Ivey spoke to her a moment, going over the upcoming schedule.

When she finished, she took Hope’s arm and steered her to an exam room. They both liked Karen a lot, but she was known to gossip.

Voice low, Ivey explained, “Geoff was a mistake going nowhere fast. I decided I was better off without him.”

“Okay.”

Ivey noticed that Hope didn’t disagree with her on the mistake part.

“So...” They both heard customers arriving. Closing the door quietly behind her, Hope asked, “What does Geoff think about it being over?”

With a roll of one shoulder, Ivey said, “Who cares?” And she did her best to make it sound convincing.

Folding her arms, Hope leaned against the door. “Was he in agreement?”

“Not exactly.”

One dark brow elevated. “Did he ask what he could do to fix things?”

Deadpan, Ivey repeated, “Not exactly.”

“So he’s been an asshole?”

Ivey fought the grin but lost. “That word sounds so funny coming from a sweet girl like you.” Very rarely did Hope curse, and she was almost never unkind—except to jerks who deserved it.

Leaning in, Hope enunciated carefully, “Asshole,” with exaggerated effect.

Ah, that was just the injection of humor Ivey needed. The snickers started, grew into hilarious laughter, and finally, a minute later, faded into chuckles. Falling against each other, the two women fought for breath.

Once they’d mostly recovered, Hope wiped her eyes. “Full disclosure. I never liked him.”

“You don’t like any men.”

“Not so! I like them just fine as long as they aren’t...”

“Don’t say it.”

“Assholes.”

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Ivey fought in vain to get it together.

Hope helped by stepping away and straightening her shoulders, smoothing her hair, tugging at the hem of her shirt—all in an effort to quell the humor.

Knowing she had to do her part, Ivey tucked flyaway spirals of her too-curly hair back into her band. “So.” She had to clear her throat twice to suppress the twitching of her mouth. “Did you want to ride together or separate?”

“We might as well arrive separately since we’ll be closer to where you live. It’ll save you from backtracking.”

“Then I’ll follow you there.” That way, they’d arrive together, saving Hope from any awkward moments. “Until then, it sounds like the waiting room is filling up, so we should get to it.”

They stayed busy for the rest of the workday, and with two emergencies they had very little time for lunch. A few hours before closing, a storm drifted in with clashes of thunder that shook the ground and bright flashes of lightning that split across the darkening sky. It made the animals more fractious, and the humans less agreeable. Poor Karen had to constantly mop the waiting room floor because Ivey, Hope and the two other techs stayed nonstop busy.

Ivey made a point of thanking her repeatedly, but luckily Karen was an upbeat sort who tackled every job with a smile. It took a lot to dent her buoyant attitude.

One day, she might have to expand her business, Ivey thought. Maybe take on another vet so she could have more time off. But for now, she enjoyed keeping things small. She knew everyone in Sunset, knew their pets and how they fared.

The only upside to being so swamped was that she had zero time to dwell on her failed relationship...

No. She hadn’t failed.

She’d reevaluated.

Knowing Hope waited for her, Ivey went to her office, grabbed her purse—and found she had a dozen missed calls and text messages.

All from Geoff.

With a small wince, she scrolled through the texts. They seemed to come an hour apart, lodged in and around phone calls.

Hey babe just wondering how you are

I called but you didn’t pick up. Busy?

Seriously, did he have no idea what hours she worked?

No reason to ignore me. That’s a bitch move.

Ivey’s eyes narrowed.

I might stop by your place after work.

I won’t be there, you jerk. And don’t you dare disturb my cat!

I think we should talk about this. Call me.

That one was from ten minutes ago.

She didn’t want to talk to him—they’d said it all Friday night and even if she’d been inclined toward second thoughts, he’d helped cement her decision with the ugly way he’d tried to blame her for everything.

So instead of calling, she texted back, Busy tonight. Then, so he wouldn’t accuse her of having a date, she added, I’m with Hope.

As soon as she sent it, she wanted to kick her own butt. She didn’t owe him explanations. So she added, Besides it’s over. Then she fought the urge to type Sorry.

God, being a nice person was a handicap when it came to ending things. Ivey shoved the phone into her purse and met Hope at the back door. Everyone else had already left.

“Are we running late?”

“By only a few minutes,” Hope said. “I called and he said it’s fine. He and his son just finished dinner.”

Together, keeping an eye on the stormy sky, they headed to their respective cars in the empty lot.

“So he has a son?”

“I guess.” Hope stepped around a puddle. “I don’t really know much about him, but if the guesthouse looks as good on the inside as it does the outside, it’s worth every penny of what he’s asking for it.”

“Then let’s hope it is.”

Corbin Meyer looked at his son—still a shocker, that one—and wished he could figure him out. Justin was tall for his age, long and lanky with chronically messy brown hair that resisted any sort of style, blue eyes full of resentment and distrust, and enough excess energy to power a locomotive.

Determining how to expend that energy in a constructive way would be a trick. A move had been in order, but Justin made no bones about his disgruntlement.

He probably wanted his mother back. In his heart, Corbin knew it was better that she’d bailed on the kid.

Justin wanted to keep his friends, too, but they were in his old neighborhood near southern Ohio. Not an area Corbin would settle in.

Justin definitely wanted his familiar life back, but Corbin hoped, with time, he would grow to love his new life more. Kids were adaptable, right?

Like he had a freaking clue.

Hands in his pockets, Corbin leaned in the doorway to his son’s room and cleared his throat. “Knock, knock.”

Justin didn’t look up.

“The rain’s stopped. I have someone coming by to look at the rental property in a few minutes. You need to go with me when I show it to her.”

“Why?” Still without eye contact.

The words because I said so tried to break free, but Corbin remembered how he disliked that answer as a kid, so he swallowed it and tried for something more reasonable. “Because you’re ten, and I’ll feel better having you with me.”

He got the eye contact finally, and it seared him. “Why?”

Sighing, Corbin came in to stand closer. “You don’t like that we moved. I get that. Change is tough.”

Justin snorted.

“Does that mean you agree or disagree?”

He shrugged.

“So you think I’m too stupid to understand?”

Wariness flattened Justin’s mouth. “Didn’t say that.”

“Good. Because I’m far from dumb. And you’re far from dumb, too, so I know you understand. Neither of us had much choice with the move, but we’re here now and I for one am looking forward to our future.”

Justin mumbled something he couldn’t catch. And maybe he didn’t want to know anyway. “I figured there were a few things we could do to try to make this adjustment easier. First, before I get back to work, I figured we’d buy some bikes.”

Glancing up, Justin asked, “Bikes?”

“One for me, one for you. Here in Sunset, there are plenty of winding roads for us to ride on. I like staying fit and you’re obviously a strong kid. We could ride around and explore things. What do you think?”

“I don’t know how to ride a bike.”

Corbin’s heart broke just a little, but hopefully he hid it. “So we’ll practice here on the property first, where no one will see us. Hell... I mean, heck.” Cursing was a problem now, and Corbin struggled with it daily. “I haven’t ridden in years, so we can both get the hang of it again, then we’ll tackle the town.”

Banking his enthusiasm, Justin asked, “Okay?”

“We’ll buy some floats, too, and get you a life preserver so we can do some swimming. I’m told the lake water is still a little cold, but we can take it, don’t you think?”

Interest sparked in his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I need a promise from you first though. No going near the lake unless I’m with you.”

That got his chin up. “Why?”

The kid did love that word. “Because I just got you and I damn well don’t want to lose you, that’s why.” The urge to reach out and ruffle his hair was strong, but Corbin had already learned not to. Justin pulled away every single time. “In fact, any time you’re in the lake, you’ll wear a life vest.”

“Whose rule is that?”

Taking the question as interest instead of resistance, Corbin went to the end of the bed and sat. It was a new twin bed, for a small new addition to his family.

“My brother and I were raised near a lake. My mother was crazy strict about us never swimming alone or without a life preserver. She swore there was a nasty undertow, and if we got hit in the head we’d be pulled under, and it would be tough to ever find us again.” Now that he considered it, Corbin decided that he, too, would wear a life belt. What if he was swimming with Justin and he got hurt? No, he’d never put the kid through that, so they’d both be extra cautious.

Justin’s eyes rounded and it dawned on Corbin that he might be needlessly scaring him, dredging up nightmare images better left to Jason Vorhees in Camp Crystal Lake, from the Friday the 13th horror series. He’d already learned that his son had a fascination with all things horror-related. He didn’t need Corbin encouraging that grisly interest.

But then again, this might be one of those lessons where a healthy respect for danger would be a good thing. “It can happen,” Corbin insisted, “So no going to the lake without letting me know. But hey, we’ll pick up some fishing gear, too, all right? In fact, after we show the guesthouse, we can walk down to the lake and check out the dock.” They’d only moved in three days ago, and the time had been filled with setting up furniture and unpacking. “We’ll grab a flashlight and look for frogs. What do you think?”

One narrow shoulder shifted with grudging curiosity. “If you want.”

“I do.” Standing again, Corbin gave in to the need to gently squeeze that proud shoulder, pretending he didn’t notice how the kid froze. “Grab your shoes, okay? We need to go meet her now.”

After he left the room, Corbin freed his smile.

Little by little, he’d win over Justin. It had only been a few weeks, so no doubt he was still adjusting to the shock, especially since he’d been dumped on Corbin like he didn’t matter, with no looking back. He pitied Darcie, though. She’d gifted him with a son, and in the process she’d also given up something pretty phenomenal.

Or at least it would be phenomenal once Corbin got the whole parenting thing figured out.