The Perfect Holiday

membered. “She was Irene Mavic’s dog. Irene is dead, so I need to make some kind of arrangements for the care of the dog until I can find it a home.”

“Yes, sir, just let me pull that paperwork.”

I slowly got out of my chair and tiptoed quietly to the door. I held my breath and peered around the door frame. There he was, standing with his hands in his pockets, perusing the various dog and cat toys hanging on the wall. He was huge now, all muscle packed onto his tall frame. It had been over ten years since I had last seen him, climbing on that Greyhound bus headed for Navy boot camp.

When he turned and our eyes met, there was no doubt who he was.

Shane Mavic—my Shane Mavic— had finally come home.

* * *

Shane frowned at me for a moment, like he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. His skin was too naturally dark to drain of color, but I could tell he thought he was seeing a ghost. Then a smile slowly broke across his lips.

“Annabel? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” I said, taking a deep breath before coming out of my office with my hands outstretched in front of me like a blind man feeling his way across an empty room. Shane took my hands, then pulled me in for a bear hug. His muscular arms closed around me like a warm blanket. My cheek instinctively pressed to his chest. My arms went around his thick back and squeezed. I listened for his heartbeat. There it was… soft but strong in my ear. It made me smile. Reluctantly, I pulled back and gazed up into his eyes.

Shane glanced down at my white jacket and nametag. He gave me a sideways look and smiled. “Wait a minute… You’re the vet?”

“I am,” I said proudly, tugging down the tail of my jacket like a little girl giving him a curtsy. “Dr. Annabel Lee Bates, at your service.”

A look of confusion clouded his dark eyes. Was he disappointed that I had taken someone else’s name? It was silly, but I certainly hoped so.

He asked, “Bates?”

“Yeah, I sort of got married and divorced while you were gone,” I said, shrugging it off as if I was just explaining a stupid stunt that had gone wrong. “Randall Bates. Not sure if you remember him from high school.”

His eyes told me he did, but he shook his head and forced a smile. His teeth gritted. Shane and Randall hated each other in school. Randall was a year younger and always trying to get the varsity coach to put him in when Shane’s passing wasn’t up to snuff, which rarely happened even though his back and ribs were usually covered in bruises.

He quickly put Randall out of his mind and took my hands and held them out to look at me. “Wow, you look… amazing,” he said. “I remember you loved animals, but I had no idea you were interested in becoming a vet.”

“Yeah, well, neither did I until halfway through med school,” I said, smiling at him, rolling my eyes like an idiot. I let go of his hands and shoved my hands into my jacket pockets so he wouldn’t see them shaking. “So, what are you doing home… Oh shit… your mom… Shane, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks, it’s okay,” he said, his round shoulders going up and down. “I’m just here to get her house sold and then get back to work.” He had black tribal tattoos coming down his thick biceps from inside his tight shirt sleeves. I wondered if they went across his shoulders and back. I wondered if he’d let me see them if I asked. I wondered if he’d let me touch them, lick them…

He was even more handsome than the last time I saw him all those years ago. Just a cute boy then, he was now an amazing looking man. His dark hair was buzzed short. His face was tanned like dark honey, but his eyes were soft and brown and his smile warm and inviting. He had packed on the muscle. His chest and shoulders and biceps looked like they were about to burst from the tight black t-shirt. He had on a pair of tight jeans and worn cowboy boots. I couldn’t help but glance at the bulge going down his right thigh.

“Work?” I forced my eyes to focus on his face. “What kind of work?”

“I’m still in the Navy,” he said, holding out his left bicep and tugging up the sleeve to show me the large tattoo of an eagle perched on a ship’s anchor holding a trident and an old timey pistol in its talons. “Captain Shane Mavic, US Navy SEALS. At your service, ma’am.”

“Wow, look at you,” I said, slapping at his arm like a flirty teenager. It was like hitting a boulder. “I thought you hated the water.”

“I did,” he said with a smile that made my heart flutter. “Still do. But I have learned to deal with it.”

“Wow,” I said again, because I couldn’t think of a better word. “So, you’re here to pick up your mother’s dog?”

“Actually, I was hoping you could just keep it and do something with it,” he said, making it sound like he was asking me to take out the trash. “I’m not really a dog lover and I can’t take it back to Iraq, so—”

“Here you go, Mr. Mavic!”

Shane looked up just as Wendy shoved the little white Maltese in his arms. Biscuit immediately climbed his round chest, making her way to his face so she could lick his chin. Shane grabbed her around the middle and held her out like she was a baby with a dirty diaper.

“Oh my god, Shane, she’s not going to bite you,” I said, giggling at him. I took Biscuit and cuddled her to my chest. The six-pound Maltese wouldn’t take her eyes off Shane. Her tail wagged to beat the band as if she could sense that he was the son of her beloved mistress.

“Like I said, I’m not much of a dog lover,” he said, wiping dog spit off his chin with the back of his hand. He gave me a pleading look. “Can you find her a home? I mean, I’ll pay for her boarding and food until you do.”

“Wendy, do we have anyone looking to adopt a small dog?” I asked.