Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 31927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten my name. Fuck. I’m pretty sure I just met my match. Damnit. I hate when my mother is right.
The gorgeous woman moves like a fucking supermodel, all curves and confidence, and my cock turns rock-hard. I’m in so much trouble.
Before I can even open my mouth, she flashes her knockout smile, and my heart pounds away.
“Good morning, Mr. Hot. I’m Dr. Elsie Berg,” she purrs, and holy hell, even her voice is sexy. Smooth and low. My brain completely short-circuits as she holds out her hand to me.
I stare, trying not to look like a drooling idiot. Her hand is small and soft in mine when she shakes it, but her grip is firm, professional. Why does that turn me on so much? I ignore my painfully hard cock. Right now, my pig’s health is all that matters. “Call me Beckett,” I manage to mutter.
The stunning vet glances up at me, all business. “How long has he been lethargic?”
I run through the night in my head, my brain an absolute mess. “He was fine yesterday. Ate normally, my dog walker took him on two walks, and he terrorized the recycling bin before bed. Then I woke up around four a.m. to him puking.”
She moves fast, professional—stethoscope, thermometer, gentle prodding around Beans’ middle while talking to him in a soft, soothing voice. Her hair keeps falling in her face, and the way she tucks it behind her ear makes my fingers tingle to feel for myself if it’s as silky as it appears.
Get your shit together, Hot. I push my thoughts about the gorgeous vet to the back of my mind. First, I need to make sure my baby is okay, and then I can decide how to handle my crazy feelings for Elsie Berg.
“His temperature’s normal,” she muses, jotting down notes. “Is there any chance he got into something he shouldn’t have? Any new foods, household cleaners, plants—?”
Negative. “My house is baby-proofed.” Yes, I’m an idiot who paid someone to make sure my house is safe for my unusual pets.
She checks him over. “I’m going to take him in back for some X-rays and bloodwork,” Dr. Berg tells me, looking right at me with those ridiculous blue eyes. “Sometimes potbelly pigs just… feel under the weather, but I want to rule out anything serious. You did the right thing bringing him in. Just hang tight. I’ll have an update for you as soon as I can.”
She gives me a final reassuring glance before heading out, and two vet techs sweep in like a SWAT team. They gently lift Beans, and he barely moves, his eyes half-lidded and looking miserable as they carry him away. I fucking hate this. I’d trade out with him in a damn heartbeat if I could.
For a few painful seconds, I just stand there like an idiot, fists clenched, heart trying to batter its way out of my chest. Then Pork whines, all pathetic and needy, so I haul his little sausage body into my lap.
I keep stroking him, trying to quiet my brain. What if it’s bad? What if Beans doesn’t make it? Fuck.
I’m trying not to think about Dr. Berg. Or the way I forgot my own name. Or the fact that my mother was right. Elsie Berg is fucking perfect for me.
Time stretches like a bad shift at the station. Every minute feels like an hour. I pace. I mumble swear words under my breath. I Google “potbelly pig sudden illness” until I want to throw the phone in the trash.
Finally, the door opens again.
Dr. Berg walks back in.
“Good news,” she says, smiling at me. “Looks like it was just a mild digestive upset. I’m going to give him some fluids and keep him here for observation, but I think he’ll bounce back by tomorrow.”
I let out a breath so hard I nearly pass out. “Thank Christ.”
Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “You’re a good pet daddy.”
Fucking hell. Hearing the word “daddy” coming from her lips sends all the blood in my body straight to my cock. That’s an understatement. “They’re my family.”
She beams at me. Fucking hell. I’m doomed. The way she looks at me… I can’t breathe.
Dr. Berg leans in, hand gentle on my arm, her ridiculous blue eyes sparkling with warm concern and something else I swear is mischief. “We’ll take good care of him, Beckett. He’s in excellent hands.”
Sweet fuck. My brain short-circuits again at the sound of my name on her lips. I want her to say it again. Over and over. Sweat breaks out beneath my shirt, and I’m seconds away from begging her to call me “Daddy” one more damn time.
I clear my throat and try to sound like I haven’t just mentally proposed marriage to my veterinarian. “Can I come by after my shift and visit him?” Now, I sound pathetic, but I don’t care.