It’s been a long day. The bright side was going out to Emma’s place to vaccinate my niece’s horse. My brother, Kieran, had been out. But Olivia, my niece, had been thrilled to see me. And it was good to see her and Emma getting along so well.

While I’d had a soft spot for Emma since way back before her father passed away, I’d always thought I’d have more time to woo her. I thought I’d give her space while she dealt with her grief while also offering her a shoulder to cry on, a friend to talk to, a rock to keep her grounded.

But I guess I’d had stronger feelings for her than she’d had for me.

And once my bastard brother Kieran came on the scene, he’d managed to weasel, lie, cheat, and steal his way into her heart, home, and bed. But it’s good for Olivia. She’s got a good mom figure now, and it’s obvious the two get along like a house on fire.

The way Olivia lights up when she talks about her horse, Warrior, is adorable. She’s going to train him herself, and I’m watching his temperament to decide when to geld him. The little lady doesn’t need some high-strung stallion jerking her around.

I pull into the little locally owned market, noticing that the overflow from the farmer’s market found its way here. Perfect. My mother would be proud if she knew how much her words about eating right stuck in my mind.

Thinking about her, I decide to call her later on tonight. All the thoughts of Kieran often leave me wanting to clutch family close. Getting out of my car, I head into the store, hearing the chirp of my car alarm setting.

A few spaces down, I see a beautiful German Shepard watching something. He’s proud and tall, his ears perked as if intent on something I can’t see. His windows are down about halfway and I suck in a breath at the owner’s daring. It rains on a whim here, so the thought that someone would let the inside of their car get drenched surprises me.

That’s someone dedicated to their animal right there.

“Good boy,” I murmur to him. He doesn’t so much look at me. He’s still as a statue, watching the store still and something nags at me. But I head into the store. Not my business. I don’t need some hot headed asshole yelling at me for fucking with their dog.

At the doors of the market, I grab a basket.

I move from spot to spot, gathering fresh vegetables – red cabbage, leeks, water chestnuts, and other fixings for a homemade stir fry. I can’t pass up some beautiful strawberries, and grab another bunch of bananas.

I’m ready to leave in record time. As I round a corner, a pretty girl floats into my field of vision. Her medium skin is oddly pale, and there’s a sheen of sweat on her forehead. She bumps into me as if she hadn’t seen me standing there.

“Sorry,” she mumbles as I grab her and keep her on her feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” I say, and her shocked brown eyes meet mine. With my hands on her arms, I feel her trembling. Her wide brown eyes leave my face and she stares at the floor while I release her arms.

In her hands she’s got some crappy store made sandwich and I want to tell her it’ll be dry and stale. Don’t people know how bad that crap is for them? We get one god damned body, fucking respect it, people.

But she still stands close to me, which feels awkward. I notice the soft waves of her light brown hair. It’s almost blond, but not quite, and looks natural. And her scent, something slightly sweet, tickles my nose.

“I, uh, don’t usually come in here without my service dog,” she says, her voice breaking over the words. I sense she’s feeling embarrassed, but it’s none of my damn business.

“Okay.” It’s all I can think of. Why is she telling me this? Is it an excuse for walking into me? I don’t care, I just want to shop so I can go home and make myself some dinner. It’s been a long damn day.

But I see her chest rising and falling quickly. At the base of her throat her pulse is thumping a bit too quickly. And I sigh.

“Do you need help?” I ask, struggling not to sound as short tempered as I feel. I just want to get on with my life, get home. Why can’t people just handle their shit?

She shakes her head and I give her a terse, “Okay. Have a good day.”

There’s a mere nod from her as I walk away, internally annoyed. She freaking slammed into me, yet I’m the one with manners here. What the actual fuck?

I ignore the checker as they ring up my groceries. Toward the door, I see the girl leave, as if she’d been hurried through the express lane with her vomit sandwich. What a weird interaction.

Putting her out of my mind, I try to one word answer the checker who’s trying to engage me in conversation.

Yes, I found everything alright.

Yes, I’ll donate a dollar to the Humane Society. It’s the smallest donation I’ve made to them in a long time.

No, I don’t need help out. Are you fucking kidding me?

When I can finally leave, I feel the charge in the air. Out the door, I see the milling crowd. I see the little blond on her knees in the parking lot. In her arms, that beautiful German Shepard.

And it clicks.

That beautiful dog was her service animal. No wonder it was acting so oddly. I push through the crowd, heading her direction as I set my groceries on the pavement, all thoughts of dinner leaving my mind. This animal needs help.

That’s all I can see; this dog with labored breathing whining softly in pain. Dropping to my knees, I begin to check him over.