Chapter 10: Corbin - Purrfect Valentine

Two days after I woke up with Ally in my arms, I sat in the lobby of Heart & Paws, elbows on my knees, listening to the muffled sounds of feline betrayal coming from behind the exam room door. The injections were keeping her alive—I knew that. Ally had explained the science, shown me the studies, promised me the screaming didn’t mean she was dying.

It still sounded like she was dying.

The door swung open, and Denise emerged with Muffy bundled against her chest. The kitten’s eyes were wide, her tiny body trembling, but the second she saw me, she started squirming.

“Someone wants her dad,” Denise said, holding her out.

“I’m not her dad.”

“Uh huh.” She deposited Muffy into my hands. The kitten immediately burrowed against me, her rattling purr vibrating against my throat. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Denise studied me over her reading glasses—the same look she’d been giving me all week. “You care an awful lot for a cat that’s not yours.”

“Ally said it helps her.”

“And you care why?”

I didn’t answer.

Denise’s mouth twitched. “Ally’s in surgery until two, if you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Of course not.” She was already turning back toward the exam rooms. “See you tomorrow, Cat Dad.”

I left before she could see my ears turn red.

As ridiculous as I’d felt the first day or so on the bike, I was grateful for it. It made getting to and from the vet every day much faster, and it allowed me to go even farther to Lynx’s shop to check on my car, which I needed to do.

Mountain View Motors was open, and rock music played from some pretty impressive speakers spread around the garage. I’d been here three times now, and I walked right in with Muffy tucked inside my jacket.

The garage smelled like motor oil, and I found Lynx under a Subaru, his boots the only visible part of him, and leaned against the doorframe to wait.

“Superman.” His voice echoed off the concrete. “Car’s not ready.”

“How much longer?”

“Part’s coming from the city. Weather’s been shit there, which is reverse of what it normally is. We typically get hit harder. Anyways, shipping’s delayed.” A wrench clanked against metal. “Few more days. Maybe longer.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.

Lynx rolled out, wiping his hands on a rag, and raised an eyebrow. “What, no complaints?” He stood and walked over to his workbench.

I shrugged. “You’re doing what you can.”

“Uh huh.” He grabbed a coffee from his workbench and took a long sip, watching me over the rim. “Has Ally been working late?”

“I don’t know.”

I did know, but I wasn’t going to admit it. She’d been working late every night.

“She normally does. It’s a wonder she hasn’t wasted away. Someone really ought to bring her dinner.” His mouth curved into a smile.

My mouth opened. Closed.

“And word of advice? Ally’s a nice woman. Don’t dick around with her.”

“I’m not⁠—”

“Don’t argue.” He set the coffee down. “I’ve known her for the three years she’s been here. She doesn’t let people in easily. If she’s letting you in, don’t make her regret it.”

The rest of the afternoon stretched empty before me. I wandered through town, past the fairy lights and the heart-shaped everything and the people who smiled at strangers. A bulletin board outside the library caught my eye—job postings, community events, a flyer for Valentine’s Day festival volunteers.

Help Wanted: Part-time bookkeeper for local business. Flexible hours.

Seeking: IT support for small office. Remote work possible.

I caught myself reading them. Worse, I caught myself mentally slotting in where I could fit. The bookkeeping job would be easy. The IT work was basically what I’d done before getting laid off. And the festival thing⁠—

No. I shut that thought down hard.

I wasn’t staying. This was temporary. Muffy’s treatment, the car repair, all of it. I had a life to get back to. A plan.

Except the plan had been Andi, and Andi still wasn’t answering my calls.

I checked my phone. No missed calls. No texts. It was strange though, because, for the first time, I didn’t feel the urge to try again.

By five o’clock, I was standing in front of the Asian fusion place Ally had first taken me to, ordering pork dumplings, vegetable spring rolls, and chicken pad thai with extra lime. It was the same thing she’d gotten. I wasn’t sure why I remembered.

She’d been pulling double shifts all week—I knew because Denise mentioned it when I dropped Muffy off yesterday. Ally was running herself ragged, surviving on granola bars and disgusting black coffee, and nobody seemed to take care of her.

So I would. She’d taken the time to show me around, after all, and made sure I got my car taken care of. And she was taking care of Muffy.

I left the cat at the inn and biked to Heart & Paws with the takeout balanced precariously in the front basket.

The clinic was dim when I arrived; the reception area empty. I followed the glow of light to Ally’s office and found her exactly how I’d expected: surrounded by paperwork, a half-eaten granola bar abandoned next to cold coffee.

Her hair had escaped its clip, honey-blonde strands with those pink tips falling across her cheek. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes. She was frowning at a chart, and even exhausted, even irritated, she was the most beautiful thing I’d seen all day.

She looked up. Something shifted in her face—surprise, then warmth, then something warier that made my chest tight.

“I smell food.”

“Weird. You must be hallucinating.” I shrugged, the bags crinkling in my hands.

She raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the takeout bags, and then back up at my face. “Must be, because I could swear you just tried to be funny.”

“Actually, I was just being a smart ass.” I smirked and stepped into the office. “Did you eat?”

“A couple dog treats and the Churu tuna sludge Muffy and every other cat seems addicted to.

“The granola bar just didn’t do it for ya?”

“Can’t say it did.” She grinned at me, nodding towards the chair across from her. “I admit, I skipped lunch. There’s definitely a chance my stomach has started eating itself.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” I tsked at her.

Her laugh was tired but real, and I set the containers on her desk, pushing files aside to make room. When she opened the first container, her eyes widened. She opened the second, and stared at me opened mouthed.

“You remembered my order.”

“I hope so. Check the third one,” I said, nodding towards the final container. She was beaming by the time she pulled out the dumplings.

“God, you’re the best.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that matched hers. “I’ve been trying to tell you that.”

“Seriously, thank you, Corbin. This is…” Ally paused, biting her lip. I tried not to stare, but all I could focus on was her mouth. “I don’t remember the last time anyone’s done something this nice for me.”

“Eat.” I pointed my chopsticks at the spread of food laid out in front of her.

“You should eat too,” she said, breaking eye contact first.

We ate. She demolished the spring rolls, making sounds that tested every ounce of my self-control. The pad thai came next. I watched her and told myself I was being polite, not cataloging the way her tongue chased a drop of sauce from her lower lip. The dumplings disappeared last.

The tension in her shoulders eased by degrees. She leaned back in her chair with a groan that I felt in places I shouldn’t have.

“Better?” My voice came out rougher than intended.

“So much better.” She studied me, head tilted, those hazel eyes looking me up and down. “You’re different from what I expected, you know that?”

“Different how?”

“When you walked into the café that first day, all scowling?” Her lips curved. “I thought you’d be a problem.”

“I was an ass.”

“Yes. Yes, you were. But you’re not now.”

I chuckled. “Gee, thanks.”

Ally shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, you still have asshole moments. But I was right about you being all gooey marshmallow on the inside.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what every 30-year-old man wants to hear. That he’s ‘gooey’ and soft.” I took a sip of my water.

“Would you rather I call you stiff and hard?”

I spat water everywhere and choked. Ally’s eyes were wide, and a second later, she clapped a hand over her mouth and started cackling.

“I didn’t—oh god, that came out wrong. I’m so sorry!” She gasped, her cheeks turning bright pink.

I wiped water off my chin with the back of my hand, trying to recover some dignity. “Did you just⁠—”

“I was trying to say steely. Steely! Like steel! Like a strong, stoic—” She was laughing so hard now that tears were forming at the corners of her eyes. “Oh my god, your face⁠—”

“My face is fine. My shirt is soaked.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” She grabbed a handful of napkins and leaned across the desk, still giggling, dabbing uselessly at my chest. “I swear I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Ally.”

“It’s just, you set me up with the whole ‘gooey and soft’ thing, and my brain went straight to the opposite, and I didn’t think about how it would⁠—”

“Ally.”

She stopped. Looked up.

We were close. Too close. At some point, she’d half-risen from her chair, leaning over the desk, one hand still pressed flat against my chest with a damp napkin trapped between her palm and my heartbeat. Gold flecks sparkled in her eyes. Freckles scattered across her nose. Her breath became shallow.

The laughter died in her throat.

“I should—” She started to pull back.

I caught her wrist. Her pulse jumped under my fingers.

“Corbin.” My name came out barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” I whispered. I leaned forward, and she didn’t pull away.

Ally met me halfway.

The kiss was unhurried. It was almost as if we were both waiting for the other to come to their senses and pull back. But she didn’t pull back, and neither did I. Every ounce of doubt about being here slipped away. Her mouth was soft against mine, tasting like lime and the lingering burn of chili. Her lips moved gently, as if testing the ground beneath her.

We pulled apart, breath mingling between us, and her forehead rested against mine. Her eyes were wide, searching.

“Well?” I whispered, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes.

“Okay.” Her fingers curled into the damp fabric of my shirt, and careful stopped being an option.

I kissed her again, harder this time, and she made a surprised sound that short-circuited something in my brain.

She pressed closer, the chair scraping as she rose fully. The desk edge dug into my thigh. I didn’t care. Her body molded to mine, curves fitting like she’d always belonged there. Heat built low in my gut. I nipped her lower lip, drawing a gasp from her. Her tongue met mine, tentative at first, then bolder.

The napkin fell. Something clattered to the floor—chopsticks, maybe, or a container. I didn’t care. I was too busy pulling her closer, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping the edge of the desk for balance. Her chair scraped back. And then she was climbing over the desk, scattering files and containers, and I caught her by the hips and pulled her against me like I’d dreamt about last night. I pressed her back until she was sitting on the edge with me standing between her legs.

“Is this a terrible idea?” She giggled against my mouth.

“Probably.” I kissed the corner of her lips. Her jaw. A spot below her ear that made her shiver. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

“No, don’t.”

Her hands slid up my chest, over my shoulders, and into my hair. She tugged, and the small sting of it sent heat straight down my spine. I gripped her hips harder, pulling her flush against me, and when she rocked forward—loss of words. Loss of thought. Loss of every reason I’d had for keeping my distance.

She rolled her hips again, clearly deliberate this time as she nipped at my earlobe, and the friction of her heat against my hardness through denim made my vision white out for a second. A low groan tore out of my throat before I could stop it. Ally’s answering whimper was the sweetest, filthiest sound I’d ever heard.

“God, Corbin,” she breathed against my mouth, lips swollen and slick from kissing. Her fingers were in my hair again, tugging just hard enough to sting, guiding me where she wanted me. I let her. I’d let her do damn near anything right now.

I slid one hand up under the hem of her vet coat, finding the soft wool of her sweater, then higher—bare skin. Warm, smooth, bare skin. Her stomach fluttered under my palm when I spread my fingers wide. She arched into the touch.

“How are you so soft?” I muttered, dragging my mouth down the side of her throat. I found that spot again—the one below her ear—and sucked lightly. Her whole body jerked, thighs clamping tighter around my hips.

“Lots of lotion,” she gasped with a fluttery giggle. “Oh, god, more please.”

That please did something dangerous to me. I nipped the skin there, not hard enough to mark yet, just enough to make her moan. My other hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, urging her to grind down harder. She did. Slow, rolling circles that had me cursing under my breath and fighting not to lose it right there like a pathetic, horny teenager.

Her coat was in the way. I shoved it off her shoulders without breaking the kiss—buttons clattered somewhere on the floor. The sweater underneath clung to her curves, and when I palmed her breast through it, her nipple was already tight against my thumb. I circled it slowly, teasing, and she broke the kiss to drop her head back with a shaky exhale.

“Shit—”

“Good?” My voice was more wrecked in that moment than it had been after karaoke with her. I didn’t care.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she reached between us, fumbling at my belt loops. She hooked two fingers into the denim on either side of my hips and yanked me forward, grinding herself down harder, chasing the pressure. The move was so bold, so needy, it shorted out the last functioning part of my brain. She yanked my shirt free of my pants, and her palms slid up my back.

I growled against her collarbone, pulling her sweater down just enough to get my mouth on skin. Kissed the swell of her breast above the bralette, then lower, teeth grazing the edge of lace. She arched again, offering more, and I took it—sucking her nipple through the fabric until the material went damp and she was panting and swearing.

Her hands were everywhere—under my henley, nails scraping lightly down my back, then forward to dig into my chest. She found my nipple, pinched just enough to make me hiss, and I retaliated by sliding my hand between us, cupping her through her trousers. The heat from her was obscene. The dampness seeping through the fabric made me dizzy.

“Ally,” I rasped, pressing the heel of my palm against her sensitive area in slow, firm circles. “Tell me if⁠—”

“Keep going.” Her hips bucked into my hand. “God, you’re so good at this. Oh god.”

The praise spread through me like wildfire, and I kissed her again—messy, open-mouthed, tongues sliding, teeth clashing. I worked her harder, faster, loving the way her thighs trembled around me, the way her breath hitched every time I hit just the right spot.

The pressure inside her must’ve been building because her fingers tightened in my hair, and her whole body tensed and released in frantic little waves. I wanted to push her over. Wanted to watch her fall apart right here on her own damn desk.

Bzzz. Bzzz-bzzz.

We both froze.

Ally’s eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide. Her lips were red and wet, chest heaving under the sweater. For one stupid second, neither of us moved.

Bzzz-bzzz-bzzz. More insistent.

“Shit,” she whispered.

“What is it?”

“The front door. Someone is trying to get in.”

My hand was still between her legs. Hers remained fisted in my shirt.

The buzzer went again—longer this time, like whoever was out there was getting impatient.

“Damn it,” she moaned against my collarbone.

“If we don’t move, do you think they’ll go away?” I asked, pressing a kiss and a grin into her neck.

“No.” She dropped her forehead to my shoulder, breathing ragged against my neck. “Unfortunately not.”

We stayed tangled together for a long moment. Her legs were still wrapped around me. My hand was still trapped between her thighs. Reality seeped back like cold water.

Her office looked destroyed—files everywhere, chair overturned, my dignity somewhere on the floor with the scattered paperwork and empty takeout containers.

“I have to answer that,” she groaned.

“I know.”

She pulled back enough to meet my eyes. Her lips were swollen. Her hair was a disaster. Ally smoothed her sweater down with trembling hands, then looked at me. Cheeks flushed. Eyes still dark with want.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered.

“Okay.”

She slid off the desk, legs unsteady, and grabbed her white jacket from the floor with trembling hands. Ally walked to the door, glanced back once at me with a cheeky grin, and then she was gone, footsteps fading down the hallway.

I heard her voice at the front, calm and professional, as if she hadn’t been falling apart in my hands thirty seconds ago. The composed Dr. Vanderspelt, handling whatever emergency had interrupted us.

I adjusted myself with a grimace. She’d gotten me riled up, and my jeans were very uncomfortable. I ran both hands through my hair. Tried to remember what breathing felt like.

Standing in Ally’s wrecked office, surrounded by scattered files, the ghost of her sounds played in my ears, and the only thought in my head was: I don’t want to leave.

Not because my car wasn’t ready. Not because I had nowhere else to go.

Because of her. Because of the way she laughed, and the way she cared, and the way she’d kissed me.

Lynx’s words echoed in my head: Don’t make her regret it.

I wouldn’t.

For the first time since my world fell apart on that freezing mountain road, I didn’t feel like running toward something I’d lost. I wanted to stand still. Maybe even choose something new. But I needed to do things right.

So I got to work cleaning up the mess we made, all the while grinning my face off.