“Backward cowgirl. Friends with benefits.” Isabel snorted, shoving her bags into her car. “Yeah, right. My downtown has been boarded up so long, I’d need a crowbar and a gallon of hot wax just to loosen the hinges.” She leaned on the open trunk for a moment.

Damn it, Tess.

The woman was right, as usual. It had been too long and with too many Mr. Wrongs to count. Memories of the last guy she slept with crept to the surface and she couldn’t help but smirk.

Peter.

Talk about a comedy of errors. Tess called him Peter Pan. Not because he had an affinity for green tights, but because he was definitely a lost boy—and not the sexy vampire type from that 80s classic. More because he didn’t know his ass from his elbow when it came to women. The boy was a category unto himself. Spit bath city. Up, down, and everywhere in between.

Isabel stifled a snort. Definitely lost.

She closed the trunk with a slam, but jumped at the feel of a wet rasp on the back of her leg. “Eew! What the—” Her head jerked around only to find a sleek German shepherd behind her at the curb. The dog barked, her fluffy tail wagging a mile a minute.

“And who do you belong to?” she asked, holding her hand out for the dog to sniff, glad it wasn’t karma paying her a visit for hating on Peter and his useless tongue.

The dog licked Izzy’s hand almost as if answering the question, and Isabel laughed to herself. “You’re too pretty and too clean to be a stray. Did you slip your collar, girl?” She reached out tentatively, giving the dog’s ears a scratch.

“I wonder—” Keeping the fact the dog was a stray at the forefront of her mind, Izzy carefully felt around the dog’s neck and between her shoulder blades, grinning when she found the rice-sized ID below the dog’s skin. “Okay, girl. Lucky for us, your master worried enough about losing you to have you chipped.”

Hiking her purse higher onto her shoulder, she unlocked the passenger side door to her car and waited while the dog panted in the hot weather, almost as if debating with herself. “In you go, girl.” Isabel kept her voice light, ignoring the warning at the back of her head that she was watching a stray mutt get into her car.

She closed the door and scooted around to the driver’s side, sliding in before the dog freaked. “It’s okay. We’re just taking a ride to the nearest vet to get you scanned. You’re safe, girl.”

As if the shepherd understood, she barked, sitting tall in the passenger seat. Izzy gave the dog’s head another scratch and started the car, slowly pulling into traffic.

About a mile down the road, she spotted a sign for a low-cost clinic. “West Hollywood Veterinarians. What do you think?” The dog perked up, putting her paws on the dash and barked. Izzy laughed, pulling into a vacant space in front of the vet’s office. “Looks like this is our lucky day.”

She turned off the ignition and looked at the dog. “Okay, fur face. I need you to cooperate so we can find your master.” Before she could open the driver’s door, the dog jumped into her lap and licked her face.

“Ugh, warn me the next time, will ya?” She laughed. “You’re not exactly a lightweight, but then again, neither am I.” Isabel gave the dog a quick cuddle. “We are both a couple of fluffy little lovelies, right?”

She nodded at the dog’s answering bark. “I’ll take that as a yes.” With a laugh, she opened the car door, trying her best to keep a hold of the shepherd as she maneuvered with the dog toward the vet’s entrance.

“May I help you?” the receptionist asked.

Izzy nodded. “Yes, I found this one out on the strip. I have no idea who she belongs to, but she’s too well-groomed and too well-fed to be a stray, plus she’s got a chip. Gauging from the amount of gray hair, my guess is she’s an old girl, but very sweet. Can you scan her?”

She smiled. “Sure. Let me get one of the techs to help.” She picked up the phone and five minutes later someone came out of the back.

“Hi.” A young man dressed in a white lab coat walked toward the waiting room chairs. “I’m Doctor Lewis. Is this the stray you want scanned?”

Izzy nodded, struggling to keep the large dog on her lap. “Yes. I found her wandering around.”

He squatted down and ran a hand over the dog’s head, giving her a quick once over. “She looks pretty good. Most of the strays that show up here are in bad shape.” Sliding his hand under her chin, the vet lifted her face for a better look.

“She’s an older girl, but she seems healthy enough, but you never know why they’re out on the streets. Some owners simply abandon their dogs when they get on in years.” He wiped his hand on his thigh before straightening. “She’s lucky she found you.”

“Well, she was generous with her kisses. How could I do anything else but help?” Izzy replied, but a bitter knot formed in her stomach at what his words implied.

The vet nodded. “We can take it from here. The receptionist will contact the owner once we download the information from the chip. There’s no reason for you to hang around.”

“Can’t I stay?” Isabel looked from the pup in her lap to the doctor. “I found her, so I kind of feel responsible. What if no one claims her? I don’t want her going to the pound.”

The vet shrugged. “It’s up to you.” He gestured to the half wall behind the row of chairs. “There’s a coffee machine on the other side, if you want.”

He took the dog and Izzy watched him walk through the double doors to the back. Heat washed across her chest at the idea of the old girl left on the streets to fend for herself and she steeled herself in her chair. One sniff and her particular talents would tell her one way or the other if her owners were deadbeats, and then she’d let them have it with both barrels.

Time seemed to stall as she waited. She thumbed through two magazines, but couldn’t concentrate. Glancing at her watch, she exhaled hard. “Fuck.” Fishing in her back pocket for her phone, she scrolled through her contacts until she found Candice’s number.

“Hey, it’s me. Listen, I’m running late—” She shook her head. “No, it couldn’t be helped. What? No, Candice. Look, I’ll do the fitting when I get back. Alison will just have to cool her jets until then. No, I don’t care that she has an audition tomorrow.”

Isabel pulled the phone away from her ear at the woman’s hissy fit. “How should I know what will keep her occupied? She’s your special snowflake, Candi. Not mine. Tell her to get her nails done or God forbid, pick up a book. Small words and pictures. That’s just her speed.”

She hung up with Candice still in mid-rant. Tessa would get a good laugh out of this when she told her about it later. Glancing at her watch again, Izzy tried to get the receptionist’s attention, but the woman was busy. Damn. They should have reached someone by now.