Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Yep, it’s not just the face.
Raging bitch confirmed.
I have to bite the tip of my tongue and choke down my disgust.
Customer face on.
Even when the customer has a lump of coal instead of a beating heart.
Even when Brady isn’t much better, barging in after hours and demanding we do something. But at least his heart’s in the right place.
If I could throw this woman out on her butt, I would, but I can’t do that to the little guy squirming in Brady’s arms, and I can’t give Dr. Ezzie a lawsuit either.
One of these days, my soft spot for animals will get me into trouble. But that’s the whole mission at Pawsome Hearts—healthy paws and claws first and always.
“Hold on, I’ll go ask my boss,” I say, leading them to the closest exam room. “If you guys can just wait here for a second, I’ll be right back.”
The blonde rolls her eyes and immediately sinks into the single available seat, making a face like its plastic coating feels offensive to her skin. Her boyfriend sets the dog down on the table, smoothing a hand gently over its big ears.
His ears, I correct myself.
The dog’s coat looks a little matted, but his butt wiggles as his tail wags and he licks Brady’s fingers. For some reason, I linger on the scene.
His hands are big. Easy to notice from the way they span the corgi’s back and neck, but they’re affectionate too. Soft and soothing.
The dog clearly loves the attention, leaning into his palm.
I’m oddly transfixed.
Look, it’s not like I’m doubting he can be nice to animals. Most people are—I like to think of it as a baseline morality test.
Either you’re kind to the innocent beings we share the planet with, or you’re a shitty person.
Easy.
But that also doesn’t mean you’re an angel if you show some basic human decency. It just means you’re probably not a demon.
Brady gives me another high-voltage smile.
“Thank you. I appreciate it,” he says, like he’s expecting me to curtsy.
Bitchface rolls her eyes to the ceiling again and huffs loudly.
Obviously I’m nothing but another nuisance in her oh-so-rough existence.
It must be so terrible, strutting around the world when you’re rich and beautiful. I wonder what fancy dinner reservation the corgi rescue interrupted.
Considering dog-whisperer Brady is with Possessed Barbie in the first place, he can’t be your normal, everyday upstanding person, regardless of how much this corgi adores scritch-scratches behind the ear.
“Sure.” I nod, smile, and close the door behind me.
Dr. Ezzie’s door is still cracked. I rap on it gently, trying to ignore the heavy silence inside her office.
“Hey, Doc?” I call. “We have a couple here with an abandoned dog, and I wondered if you’d be okay giving the poor thing a quick look? The air’s pretty rancid today, and he doesn’t look too comfortable.”
Although if that tail was any indication, he’s not feeling too awful.
Dogs aren’t like people—if they have any serious issues, they usually show it. Lethargy, lack of enthusiasm, lack of appetite. Lack of responsiveness to affection.
Still, it’s not my place to say.
But I don’t get a response.
I push the door open, revealing Dr. Ezzie, and I do a double take. Her mouth is pressed tight, and her eyes are red.
Guilt punches me in the stomach.
I was right: Whatever was on that call wasn’t good news.
And now I’ve gone and dragged her out of her cave before she was ready.
But I don’t let my face reveal my guilt. Maybe she knows it looks obvious she’s been crying, but that doesn’t mean I need to stare and make her feel worse.
I don’t need to look shocked.
Dr. Ezzie never cries.
In the years I’ve worked here, I’ve never seen her shed a single tear. Even yesterday, when she got the call about her dad’s fall and rushed to the hospital, there was nothing but strong determination on her face.
The guilt in my belly tightens into a knot.
Something must be horribly wrong.
But she forces a smile anyway, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Certainly, Lena. Thanks for showing them in. Anything I can do to help.”
She stands.
“They’re in Room B,” I say too brightly.
Yeah. No one will hand me an Oscar anytime soon for my acting.
I just try to cling to my calm even though I’m stressing like crazy. My boss so doesn’t need this today.
She follows me to the exam room, though, where Blondie scrolls TikTok with the volume cranked up while her obscenely hot boy toy strokes the dog’s back.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Ezzie,” Dr. Ezzie says coolly, her professionalism snapped back in place. “How can I help?”
Brady glances at me before saying, “We found this boy on a hike down by the beach, stuck under some driftwood and panting like mad. Don’t know how long he was there. I figured it was long enough with the bad air.”