She’d debated which dog would be right for the event, and had settled on Buddy. Children sensed he was a worrier and spent their time reassuring him. Focusing on something else was probably a good thing. Plus, he was big enough for the little ones to lean on and he always loved a heartfelt hug.

As they made their way to the clinic, she reminded herself that she was here in a professional capacity. She should be grateful that Simon trusted her and her dogs to assist him.

“Not technically,” she added to Buddy as they went in through the main doors. “I don’t think removing stitches would be something you’d do well. No offense.”

Buddy glanced at her as if to say none was taken.

They made their way to the clinic. Buddy’s service dog vest allowed them to pass through the various departments with hardly a second glance.

As she approached the nurses’ station, she was greeted by an efficient-looking nurse in her forties.

“Dr. Bradley said you would be here.” She smiled cheerfully. “He’s been telling me what a difference your service dogs can make. I’m looking forward to seeing this one in action.”

She reached out and petted Buddy, who responded calmly, wagging his tail. But his frown deepened as if he was concerned about the added pressure.

Montana was more confused by Simon saying nice things about her. Obviously he understood the dogs could help—otherwise, why bother inviting her? But to talk to someone else about what she did was unexpected.

The nurse showed her to a small examining room. A tray sat on the counter. Although it was covered, she imagined all sorts of shiny, sharp medical tools and instantly understood why the waiting children would be apprehensive.

She glanced around, taking in the padded table where the patients would sit, the extra chairs on the side of the room, the bright overhead lights. Not exactly a friendly setting.

The door opened and Simon stepped in. She felt an instant surge of excitement, hope and, well, lust.

“Good morning,” he said briskly. “Thank you for coming to the clinic.”

His impersonal words, the way he barely glanced at her, deflated her anticipation.

“We’re happy to help. This is Buddy.”

Simon surprised her by crouching so he was eye level with the dog. “Nice to meet you, Buddy.” He rubbed the dog’s ears. Buddy perked up at the attention.

“He’s very friendly,” she said as Simon straightened. “But he always looks concerned. Kids respond to that by reassuring him. I thought that might distract them.”

“A good idea.”

She might as well have been anyone on the staff, she thought sadly. Apparently he’d recovered from his need to be with her. No more kissing for her.

The nurse stuck her head in. “They’re ready, Doctor.”

“Give me a couple of minutes and send the first one in.”

“Sure.”

She stepped out.

Simon crossed to the sink and washed his hands. When he was done, he dried them, then pulled on gloves. “It doesn’t take long to remove stitches. Assuming no complications, we should be out of here in about an hour. Would you like to go get coffee with me?”

She was so busy being sad, she almost missed the invitation. “I have Buddy,” she said, stumbling over the words.

“The Starbucks has outdoor seating.”

“Right. Um, sure. That would be nice.”

“Good.”

The first patient was brought into the room.

Her name was Mindy and she was twelve years old. Simon explained that she’d been cut by flying glass when a neighborhood kid had thrown a baseball through a plate-glass window. She had stitches along her jawline and down the side of her neck.

“That must have been scary,” Montana said as Mindy hugged Buddy.

“It was. There was blood everywhere.” She sounded both horrified and proud.

“We’re still getting it out of the carpet,” her mother joked.

Mindy climbed on the table. Simon pulled a chair up next to it and motioned for Buddy to jump up on the chair. Mindy wrapped her arms around him, while keeping the stitches facing Simon.

“What are you going to do this weekend?” he asked, as he began to snip the stitches.

Montana had never seen him work before and was impressed by how quickly he removed each stitch. There was a sureness in his movements. Utter confidence.

“We’re going to the Summer Festival,” Mindy said, her face turned away. “We go every year. It’s one of my favorites, although I like all the stuff we do at Christmas, too.”

“I’ve never been to Summer Festival.”

Shocked, she looked at him. “You have to go. It’s the best. There are rides and booths and elephant ears.”

“What are elephant ears?”

Her eyes widened. “They’re delicious. All warm, with powdered sugar.”

“They go right to my thighs,” her mother murmured.

“Ow.”

Simon’s fingers never slowed. “We’re almost done.”

Tears filled Mindy’s eyes. “Can you stop now?”

Buddy gently whimpered and pressed the top of his head against her chest.

She turned her attention to the dog. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

“We’re done,” Simon told her.

Mindy looked startled. “That was quick. It didn’t really hurt that much. I was surprised is all.”

Her mother moved close and studied the work. “It barely shows and it’s not even finished healing.”

Simon nodded. “I’m not expecting her to have a scar. You have the instructions for what to do as soon as the scab falls off?”

“Yes.”

Mindy stared at her mother. “So I’ll still be pretty?”

Simon helped her down from the table. “You’re already beautiful. I don’t think there’s anything I could do to make you more beautiful. I’m not that talented.”

Mindy beamed at him, then hugged him. “Thank you. I was scared but this wasn’t bad at all.”

“I’m glad,” he told her with a smile.

He was so different with his patients, Montana thought. More himself—open and giving. It seemed that was the only place he allowed himself to relax. The rest of the time there was a wall between him and the world.

Mindy and her mother left. The nurse let in a small boy accompanied by a woman Montana would swear she recognized from the social services office. The boy had cuts all over his face and dozens of stitches.

Simon immediately dropped to a crouch and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Hello, Freddie.”

“Hi.”

The boy’s voice was soft and high-pitched. He was probably six or seven, skinny and small boned.

“I heard about your aunt coming to get you.”

Freddie’s mouth turned up but he didn’t actually smile. It took Montana a second to realize that because of all the cuts and stitches, he couldn’t.

“The judge said she could and she’s taking me back to Hawaii.” Freddie looked at the social worker. “My cousin Sean is my best friend, but Dad said I couldn’t see him anymore. Now I can.”

Simon motioned for Buddy to approach. “My friend Montana brought in a very special dog. His name is Buddy. He’s kind of scared to be in the hospital but when I told him about you, he wanted to visit anyway.”

Humor twinkled in Freddie’s eyes. “You can’t talk to dogs.”

“I’m a doctor, young man. I can do anything.” Simon turned to the dog. “Buddy, are you nervous?”

Buddy’s eyebrows drew together even more and he whimpered.

“Whoa.” Freddie looked impressed. “Okay, Buddy. Thanks for wanting to come see me.”

Buddy held out a paw to shake.

Simon helped the boy onto the table. This time Buddy jumped in the chair without being asked. Freddie put an arm around him and the dog leaned close.

Simon went to work. Unlike the last time, there were no tears, no requests to stop. Freddie flinched a few times, but otherwise he was completely stoic.

Montana realized Freddie had been through this before and wondered what could have happened to him. Why was he having more surgeries? Except for the lines from the cuts, he didn’t look deformed.

After Freddie there were three more children. When they were finished, Simon escorted Montana and Buddy out of the hospital.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Would you get us our coffee and I’ll meet you there in a second?”

Simon nodded. “Of course.”

While he walked toward the center of town, she and Buddy headed for her car. Fifteen minutes later, coffee in cupholders, they were driving up the mountain.

“We’re not going far,” she told him. “I know this beautiful meadow where we can talk and Buddy can run around.”

Simon reached back and patted the dog. “You’ve earned a romp.”

She pulled off the road and into a makeshift dirt parking lot. After letting Buddy out, she grabbed a blanket from the back and led the way to a meadow.

The sun was warm, the grassy area dotted with small flowers. The hum of insects mingled with birdsongs and the soft breeze. It was a perfect kind of morning in a perfect kind of place. She spread out the blanket and motioned for Simon to sit.

“Tell me about Freddie,” she said when he settled. “How did he get hurt?”

“His father. He cut him. This wasn’t the first time.”

Montana stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

“Not all parents are like yours. Some have mental or emotional problems. Some are just cruel. Freddie’s father would tie him up and then cut him with a hunting knife. His back, his chest. This is the first time he went to work on his face.”

Her chest was tight and she found it difficult to breathe. Her eyes burned. Rather than give in, she looked past Simon to where Buddy chased a butterfly—for once having fun rather than worrying.