Page 120 of Jay Bird

Jay Bird's gaze briefly moved toward the chair where her cover-up rested before returning to her face.

“Having fun?”

She knew what he was really asking, and her smile softened. “I am.”

“Good.”

Lily slapped both hands against the water, sending a wave straight into Jay Bird’s face.

He slowly turned his head toward her, and Lily’s eyes widened.

Willow covered her mouth.

“Did you just splash me?” He shifted her into one arm.

Lily squealed.

“Oh, you’re in trouble now.”

“No!”

He splashed her, and Lily shrieked with laughter.

Willow joined in, and within seconds, Jay Bird was being splashed from both sides. He didn’t care, because hearing Willow and Lily laugh made it worth every drop of water.

At some point Willow moved closer, and beneath the water, her fingers slipped into his.

Jay Bird looked down at their joined hands and then at the little girl clinging to his other arm.

Without a doubt, they were absolutely his girls.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

By five-thirty, Willow was certain she had worn more dog hair home than some of the dogs had left with.

She looked down at her light blue scrub top and picked at several black hairs clinging stubbornly near her stomach before giving up.

“At this rate, I don’t even need a pet. I’m carrying half the clinic home with me every night.”

Anna Grace laughed from the other side of the treatment room, where she was putting the last few supplies back into the cabinet.

“It’s an occupational hazard.”

“I don’t remember it being this bad before.”

“That’s because you always got the ones who didn’t shed,” Mia joked as she walked into the room carrying a stack of folders and set them on the counter.

It had been a long day, but a good one. Most of Willow’s days at the clinic were like that now.

She had been working with Mia for a few weeks, and every day she felt a little more like she belonged there. Some of the procedures she had learned before being taken had come back almost immediately, while others required more practice, but Willow didn’t mind starting over.

In her mind, she didn’t think of it as starting over. She was continuing, and there was a difference.

Starting over implied everything she had done before Chen had somehow been erased, and Willow refused to let him have that too.

She wiped down the stainless-steel exam table one last time before tossing the paper towels into the trash.

“I think this room is officially cleaner than my kitchen.”