Skin Heat by Ava Gray Page A

the kittens could be in bad shape. Without getting dressed, she bolted from her room. She’d left them in the kitchen—
    “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’re fine.”
    “You did it all.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Oh, Zeke, you shouldn’t have. I committed to these babies, not you.”
    “Reckon they’re as much mine as yours, now.”
    Well, that was true. Some of the fear dialed back. She had the irrational surety that if she could save these three kittens, then Luke would be all right, too, somehow. It was illogical, sympathetic magic, the kind people practiced as kids. Step on a crack, break your mother’s back. Most days, Neva was very careful not to step on any cracks because she loved her mom. Other days, if Lillian had been hard on her, she would stomp them. It never made any difference but it gave the illusion of having some power to change circumstances. She couldn’t overlook the value of that.
    Everyone else believed Luke was dead.
    The sheriff was still investigating, of course. But the trail had gone cold, and they all thought the best possible resolution would be to discover his body, so their family received closure. There were no leads. Just an empty car on the highway.
    “When did they eat last?”
    “An hour ago. Breakfast’s on the table.”
    “Good Lord,” she said. “I didn’t agree to this so you could wait on me. You’re doing too much.”
    “Can’t cook pancakes for one,” he said.
    It was impossible to argue with him. He just didn’t offer enough words in a single go to give her complaints traction. Further, after his kindness, it just seemed churlish to protest. Plus, she was hungry.
    “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
    “Woulda been a long weekend,” he agreed.
    Holy crap, he was right. Today was Saturday. He’d saved her from spending a whole weekend alone in the clinic with the kittens. She really had to thank him properly.
    All men appreciate sex, Julie’s voice suggested. It was a testament to Neva’s inner workings that her mischievous side always sounded like her best friend. When they were kids, it had always been Julie suggesting stuff that got them in trouble. Neva would follow along more reluctantly, conscious of what people would think because she was a Harper, and she ought to be better than this. The only thing she’d ever done, against her family’s wishes, was go to vet school. She didn’t regret the decision, despite all the complications.
    Breakfast was oddly comfortable. She thanked him for the meal and then showered. It was rare that she found herself not besieged with work calls, even on a Saturday. Her cell phone served as her emergency number; people rang up if their pets suffered any life-threatening injuries or illnesses. Neva hoped they didn’t today, though this time of year was notorious for trouble. If it wasn’t a hunting accident, then somebody’s dog ate something he shouldn’t at a holiday party, and then wound up in her office. To say nothing of cats chewing on Christmas lights.
    But a good night’s sleep had gone a long way toward restoring her energies. She appreciated Zeke’s kindness more than she could say, but he wasn’t in the kitchen when she came downstairs. Banging drew her toward the porch; Neva grabbed her jacket from the hall closet before going outside. She’d noticed one of the steps was broken coming in last night; he’d guided her over it. Now, she watched as he repaired it. His hands were quick and deft. Maybe it wasn’t enlightened but she’d seen men doing such things so rarely that she liked it. There was just something about a guy who knew how to swing a hammer.
    She admired the bunch and pull of his muscles with each movement. Despite the chill, he wore only a thin white T-shirt, which seemed strange. But he didn’t appear to notice the cold. No goose bumps. When he bent to place the last nail, his jeans slid down, revealing the taut slope of his lower back; they were loose in a way that