The Architect (Nashville Neighborhood Book 3) by Nikki Sloane (top e book reader .TXT) 📗

eyes softened, his hold on me tightened. Had he done it to prevent himself from pulling me deeper into his embrace?

He opened his mouth to say something, but a woman in a matching uniform appeared at his side and gave us a curious look. He let go of me and straightened, and even though it was hot in the sun, it was instantly cold when his touch was gone.

The woman didn’t have a stethoscope around her shoulders like he did, and her name badge only had her first name on it, so she was probably a vet tech like me. Her tone was light and friendly. “You two know each other?”

Yes.

But also, no.

“Yeah.” Travis lifted a hand my direction as if he were going to introduce me, and paused, realizing he still didn’t know my name. His gaze dropped to my silver nametag and he studied the print there. “Lilith and I . . . have a mutual friend.”

His face contorted with displeasure at the inadequate statement.

Well, at least it was true, wasn’t it? I pressed my lips together.

The woman was oblivious to the tension between us. She nodded and glanced impatiently toward the clinic, wanting to do the job they’d come here for. So, I plastered on a smile and hoped he couldn’t hear how affected he’d made me. “Welcome. Let me show you where the MRI is, Doctor.”

As I suspected, by the time we made it into the room, there was barely any space left. The team from the zoo was assisted by some of our staff as the pad beneath the tiger was used to lift him onto the table.

I squeezed in beside Cassidy, and as Travis spoke with Dr. Johnston, my focus was drawn to the big cat. God, he was beautiful. A brilliant orange with vivid black stripes and a distinguished ruff that looked like a beard. It was amazing to be so close.

The tiger’s name was Harta, and for the last few months he’d been experiencing sporadic seizures. His episode on Tuesday wasn’t any different than the others, but he shared an enclosure with his sister Eka. She’d been so concerned, staff worried the female tiger might accidentally hurt him while trying to help or protect her brother.

My gaze drifted from the sedated animal to the group of doctors discussing symptoms and what they’d look for on the scan. Travis listened thoughtfully as Dr. Johnston spoke, but I couldn’t focus on what she was saying.

He’d cancelled our Tuesday session because he had a work emergency. Had he told Clay what that emergency was? Because tiger seizures would not have been my first guess. But—oh, God—this new information was almost too much to bear. It felt like, at least on paper, Clay had unknowingly picked the perfect guy for me.

Or maybe he’d done it knowingly. It added another layer as to why he’d been reluctant to tell me anything about Travis.

During the MRI, he glanced my direction, and when he caught me looking, I quickly dropped my gaze to the floor. Two months ago, I would have simply smiled back at him. It wasn’t that my confidence was gone now. Taking my gaze off him was a safety measure. If I looked at him long enough and saw how good his scrubs fit around his toned frame, it was possible I’d be pushing people out of my way in my struggle to plant my lips on his.

Thankfully, Harta’s scan was clear. There were no tumors or lesions, and after consulting with the other doctors, Travis announced they’d manage the seizures with medication.

It was the best possible outcome, and I felt the same relief he did, judging by his expression. As the team prepared Harta for his return trip to the zoo, I slowly worked my way toward the man I’d broken rules with last night.

He thanked everyone at the clinic for their time and help, and when his attention settled on me, I subtly ticked my head toward the door.

“Can we talk?” I wordlessly asked.

He turned to the vet tech beside him. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”

My pulse moved much quicker than my feet as he followed me out of the MRI room and into a nearby consultation one. Luckily, it had already been cleaned for the night. He ignored everything else in the room, including the wallpaper border of cartoon cats chasing balls of yarn, and turned to face me as I shut the door behind us, closing us in together.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “Being with you wasn’t a mistake. I still feel your kiss, and it’s burning me up inside.”

His eyes went wide with shock.

The dam had been broken and now that it was out, the rest poured from me. “I like Clay, but I like you too, and I love what we have. The problem is I don’t know if I’m allowed to like you, and I know I’m not supposed to like him, so it’s just really confusing.” I frowned. “I’m not like this. Usually I know what I want, and I say what I mean, but with this arrangement, everything’s different.”

He pulled his shoulders back like the information had been overwhelming and confusion washed over his face. “Wait. You’re not supposed to like him?”

I swallowed a breath. “I’m not supposed to, like romantically. We agreed no love or feelings. It’s only supposed to be a sexual relationship, and he promised to teach me about, well, all the stuff we’ve been doing.”

Something flitted through his eyes like a glimmer of hope, but it was gone too quickly for me to be sure. “But you like him romantically,” he said. “And you’re saying it’s the same for me?”

He’d asked his question as if he suspected the answer, and I was too distracted to pick up on his subtle approach until his hand gently cuffed my wrist. His touch was disarming, and I spoke more to myself than to him. “I don’t know if it’s allowed.”

My voice had been feather-soft, but his was solid and