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)
“He was found down by the beach, from what I know. We’ll make sure he gets some food and water. Any dietary restrictions?”
“No, and thank you, dear. My poor Annie, she was so distraught. She’s walked him hundreds of times and there’s never been any trouble. But all it takes is once. Is he truly okay? He wasn’t hurt?”
“Nope, just a little dehydrated. Plus some lung irritation with the bad air. He should stay indoors overnight until the sky clears up. When would you like to pick him up?”
“Oh shoot.” She speaks to someone else on her end, her voice muffled. “We’d come tonight, but we’re out of town—that’s why my niece was looking after him. And tonight she has a night shift, I’m afraid. Is it possible for you to keep him? Just for tonight?”
Oof.
I really should say no.
We’re a small clinic with limited kennel space. It’s already crowded with our regular dogs, and Keith is running himself ragged. But there’s nowhere else for Charlie to go.
I can’t bring myself to turn her down.
“Can I call you back? I’ll check with the owner and see what I can do,” I say instead. “You said you can grab him tomorrow?”
“Yes, yes, absolutely! Thank you so much.” Her voice breaks. “I wasn’t sure we’d ever see our baby again. Thank you so much.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ll be in touch.”
She thanks me again, and I smile as I end the call.
This is what the job is really all about. Making a difference for the people and pets who need it most.
The right owners—the good ones—they’re always grateful.
As for the bad ones . . . well, I don’t like to think about them. I tell myself there’s a special place in hell with their seat reserved.
I scoop up the card reader as I head back to the exam room. At least they’re paying customers. God knows the clinic needs it with how tight things have been.
“Good news,” I say as I open the door. “We’ve found—”
I stop in my tracks as I see Brady holding up his phone, posing with Charlie, who’s slumped on his side, tired but happy and wagging his tail.
What the hell?
Heat turns my blood into lava.
I should have known.
You go and find an abandoned dog, then bring him in just so you can flaunt your heroics on social media. Because that’s what the world needs right now.
Apparently, all good deeds are transactional for earthworms like Brady McMoneybags.
More rich virtue signalers, measuring their morals in likes.
Oh my God.
Charlie doesn’t even know he’s a prop, of course.
The corgi looks up lovingly and licks his face. Brady laughs, and I have to admit—even though I’m pissed enough to spit nails—it’s a charming laugh.
That doesn’t mean this whole thing isn’t gross.
It gives me massive ick, just watching it unfold.
He’s not a good person. He’s not altruistic or kind or selfless.
He’s one more ginormous prick in a city crawling with them, turning a good deed into a spectacle.
No, it doesn’t matter if he’s built like Hercules with an Instagram filter.
As far as I’m concerned, he’s a first-class asshole.
I have plenty of experience to know. After you’ve dated the king of abusive predators and lived to tell the tale, you don’t forget.
He glances up at me with a small smile like a cobra watching its prey.
“Is it good news, Lena?”
I hate that he knows my name.
I inhale a long, slow breath.
Paying customers.
Paying.
Smile, bat your eyes, and shut it.
There’s no way I can unload on him now, especially if I want to get them out of here ASAP.
“I managed to get in touch with the owner, yes,” I say coldly. “She’ll come tomorrow morning, but she can’t take him until then because they’re out of town.”
“Damn. They left town without their dog, huh?” Brady’s smile drops.
“Their niece was looking after him, I think. It’s a whole thing.” I wave a hand, because the owners’ situation hardly matters when I just caught him making a big stinking hero spectacle right in front of me.
Calm, calm.
It’s not easy when Blondie sighs. “What’s the problem now? Why are we still here?”
“Nancy, enough.” Brady shoots her an annoyed glance.
“What? She found the person, didn’t she?”
“The problem is we don’t have enough kennel space,” I clip, cutting them off before they get into it. I like my toxic relationships to stay on Netflix, thank you very much. “We recently had to downsize, and there just isn’t room for Charlie there. There’s one spare kennel in the observation room. But it’s not the most comfortable place for a dog who isn’t sick.”
Brady scratches the dog’s head idly as he thinks. I watch the movement, knowing I shouldn’t.
His hands are so nice. Neat, but not too sculpted.
He probably climbs with them or something, but there’s a rhythmic quality to his movements. It looks poised and elegant even if it’s just the way he rubs behind Charlie’s ear.