Chapter 16

 

Gabby strode into the clinic and found Avery behind the desk, Brent sitting on the counter beside her. “Hey, you’re both in early. I thought I’d be the only one here at this hour.”

She’d decided to leave early to check on the dogs they’d rescued. She’d crashed pretty hard last night and hadn’t gotten an update. And if her heart had sunk a little waking up alone, well...she was a big girl. Flynn had left a note by her coffeepot saying he’d headed home to get ready for work and didn’t want to wake her, but it still kind of left her feeling abandoned. Which was stupid. He’d stayed the night and had all but taken care of her.

Avery leaned back in her chair. “With that mess from yesterday, there’s a lot to do. I need to call the farms who took in the animals and get a status report, plus put them in Flynn’s appointment rotation. The cops are asking for a more detailed report to give the DA. The paperwork alone is going to bury me.”

Gabby offered a weak smile. “You live for paperwork.”

“Not this kind.” Avery rolled her head to stretch her neck. “How are you doing, by the way? That scene was dang awful.”

She sipped coffee from her to-go cup to give herself a moment. “Yeah, it was. I’m okay.” She glanced at Brent. “How are the dogs?”

“Better than expected.” He hopped off the counter and uncovered Gossip’s cage.

The cockatoo ruffled his feathers. Squawk. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Morning,” they mumbled back.

“I looked over Drake’s notes. No broken bones. Both of them are missing an ear. The flesh wounds were pretty bad. He had to do a lot of debridement work to get rid of dead tissue.” Brent sighed and faced her, gutting heartbreak in his eyes. “Heck, sugarbuns. I don’t know how you managed that scene.”

Had Flynn not been there with her for the fallout, she didn’t know how she would’ve either. “It was terrible.” She forced the images from her mind. “How are their temperaments?” In cases like this, it was hard to tell if the dogs would adjust to a normal life. Trained to be aggressive, they might not be adoptable.

He shrugged. “Hard to say. Drake had to sedate them to treat, of course. They’re on heavy-duty antibiotics. He’s in the kennel room with them now.”

Nodding, she set the billing statements from yesterday on Avery’s desk and turned toward the hallway.

“Those don’t go there.”

Eyes narrowed, she faced Avery. “You are a Nazi, you know that?” God love her, Gabby didn’t know how the clinic got by before she’d arrived. With a grin, she picked up the statements, set them in the proper tray, and lifted her brows. “Satisfied?”

“Very.” Avery crossed her arms. “I just got a happy tingle.”

“Speaking of happy tingles...” Brent dropped his hands on his cocked hips. “How’s it going with Mr. Strong and Silent?”

About that... Gabby pointed at him. “Don’t think you’re forgiven for being in cahoots with the Battleaxes.” She gave him a sly smile, keeping mum on the other part. Flynn didn’t just give her happy tingles, he electrified her circuits. Let Brent stew and wonder. Served him right.

She leaned over Avery’s desk and dumped out her pencil cup to mess with her, then spread them out for good measure. “Neener, neener. That’ll drive you bonkers. Look, Avery, they’re not even facing the same direction.”

Face scrunched, Avery eyed the pencils, hands fisted. “That was just mean.”

Brent patted her back. “It’s okay, doll. We’ll color coordinate them together. They’ll be good as new.”

Still pouting, Avery huffed. “Payback’s a bitch.”

Gabby laughed and headed down the hall. “I’m not afraid of you.”

After dropping off her purse in Flynn’s office, she made her way to the boarding room. They had low numbers this week. Only a few kennels were occupied, luckily with cats. They seemed to be contentedly sleeping for the moment in their cages on their side of the huge room.

She scanned the cheery space painted by Zoe a few years ago. One big mural of blue skies and green grass, it was meant to make the boarding animals feel more welcome. Fire hydrants and trees were scattered amongst the background. The scent of Lysol floor cleaner and fur made her smile.

Closing the door behind her had accidentally startled their clinic pet, Thor, and the chickenshit Great Dane leapt to his feet. He bumped into her with a harrumph and skedaddled to Drake’s side, cowering by his feet.

Standing in front of the crates along the back wall, Drake glanced down at the dog. “Yeah. Gabby scares the crap out of me, too.” His droll tone pulled a laugh from her.

Pausing next to him, she checked out the Pitbulls. In side-by-side kennels, they lay sleeping. One had grayish-white fur and the other tan with black markings. They had cones around their necks to keep them from biting the bandages. And there were a lot of bandages—around their heads, along their flanks, on their feet.

“You okay, kid?”

She sighed at the nickname and the question. Drake was only a year older than her, but he’d affectionately been calling her that since sometime in middle school. “Better than yesterday. Sorry for being a sobbing mess.”

Heat flamed her face as she recalled blubbering while Drake had euthanized the other dogs. Fourteen canines and only two had survived. It was beyond sad. Two had already been dead by the time she’d found them in the coop.

“Never apologize for emotion.” He crossed his arms and turned to face her, his shoes squeaking on the linoleum. In Drake-like fashion, his expression was unreadable. “Flynn told me the whole story from before I arrived. You did good out there.”

“Thank you. I wish we could’ve saved more.” She eyed the dogs again. The gray one started to stir. “We’re not going to have to put them down, too, are we?”

“I hope not. It was hard to gauge their behavior. They were in pain and did little more than the expected fight-or-flight.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’ve got them on painkillers and sedated.”

Their food and water bowls were full, indicating they hadn’t woken through the night. Or were afraid to eat. “How old are they?”

“Best guess? Under two years.”

Poor little guys hadn’t had such a great start in life. “Did you name them?”

“Saved that for you.”

Aw. She studied them, head tilted. They were both males, but she thought they should have gentle names, unlike the life they’d had so far, but also something that implied strength of character, endurance. Perhaps nature-like.

She pointed to the tan one, “Cedar,” and then the gray, “Cyprus.”

Drake bit the cap off a marker he dug from his pocket and wrote their names on the kennel tag. Thor headed for the other side of the room and flopped by the door.

The gray Pitbull, Cyprus, opened his eyes. Confusion and a little pain radiated through his hesitant gaze. Without lifting his head, he blinked up at her, and her heart twisted. She crouched and reached for the latch.

“Take it easy, kid. Go slow. We have no idea how they’ll respond.”

She nodded as Drake stepped back to give them space. Chances were, the dogs would be intimidated by men since their owner was a male. Tension radiated from Drake, but Gabby kept her mood calm. Animals could read people and she didn’t want to alarm the dog.

Opening the latch, she unhurriedly scooped a small handful of food and, leaving the cage open, scooted back, setting the food down as she went. She sat on the floor, legs spread, hands in her lap in a nonthreatening pose.

Cyprus lifted his head and eyed the trail of kibble from the kennel to her feet. His eyes had a dazed look from the drugs, but he was awake. He licked his chops.

“Shh, it’s okay. Come here.”

The door to the room opened and closed behind her, but she kept her gaze on the dog. Sudden movements or lack of eye contact might spook him. From her peripheral, she caught Flynn step beside Drake. Cyprus eyed the brothers.

“Maybe you guys should sit down?”

Drake signed to Flynn. They each took a gradual step back, still staying within ten feet just in case, and sat cross-legged on the floor. All three O’Grady men were wonderful vets, compassionate and caring. They knew animals and their temperaments. But right now, they were in overprotective friend mode, not veterinarian.

Cyprus watched their every move. Since he wasn’t paying her any mind, she glanced at Flynn. His jaw was set, his eyes round with concern. His gaze flicked to hers and his nostrils flared. Worry wrinkled his forehead, but he stayed put, reluctantly trusting her.

She turned back to the dog. “Hey, boy,” she cooed. “Who’s a good boy?”

Cyprus tilted his head and struggled to his feet.

Flynn flinched out of the corner of her eye, his hands flexing.

Her heart pounded, but she forced her body to relax as Cyprus sniffed at the first piece of kibble just outside the kennel. He looked up at her as if to ask, can I?

Aw, man. Eyes watering, she smiled. “Go ahead. It’s okay. Good boy.” Gaze on her, the dog ate the piece and licked his chops.

As he focused on the next one, the door to the room opened. Quiet footsteps walked toward them and Cade came into view. The dog—and man—froze.

Drake quietly cleared his throat. “Gabby’s doing her dog whisperer impression.”

Without a word, Cade sat next to Flynn.

It took five minutes, but Cyprus eventually ate the next piece, and then the next until he made it all the way to Gabby’s feet. Flynn’s breathing had grown louder with every move from the dog until his inhalations were this side of panting.

When there was no more kibble left, Gabby carefully offered her hand palm down for the dog to sniff. Flynn made a sound of duress, all but hyperventilating. Cade set his hand on Flynn’s tense arm.

“Drake,” she said quietly, eyes on Cyprus, “sign that I’m okay. Remind Flynn to breathe.” More worried about her friend than the dog, she smiled at Cyprus as Drake complied. “Shh. Come here, good boy.”

Less than a foot away, the dog watched her hand. The stump of his tail was up as was his one ear, indicating he didn’t feel threatened. Nothing about his demeanor showed aggression, including his fur, which was flat on his flank, not raised.

A moment passed and then Cyprus licked her hand. She breathed a laugh, eyes filling, throat tight. “Good boy. That’s a good Cyprus.” At her praise, he licked again. She repeated his name so he’d start getting used to it.

His stump wagged and she gingerly lifted her hand, giving the dog ample time to understand she was going to pet him. Flynn wheezed, but she ignored him and set her hand on the short, wiry hair of Cyprus’s neck, leaving it there. His stump kept wagging and, after a beat, he tilted his head toward her touch.

She laughed, scratching his scruff. “Drake, grab a few pieces of kibble and come over here. Flynn’s too tense. He might scare Cyprus. Cade, assure Flynn I’m okay before he strokes out.”

While Drake moved to obey and Cade quietly laughed, Gabby kept praising the dog. Flynn continued to hyperventilate, and Cade set a hand on his brother’s shoulder, not that it seemed to help. Cyprus watched Drake out of the corner of his eye, but showed no signs of distress.

From next to her, Drake held out his hand, offering the food. Unlike with Gabby, Cyprus took the kibble right away from Drake’s palm. After giving his hand a thorough tongue bath, Cyprus all but climbed in Drake’s lap, kissing his face. Mindful of the bandages, he petted him, a relaxed grin on his face Gabby hadn’t seen in too long.

“I think he remembers you’re the one who took him from that awful place.” She wiped her eyes. “Looks like you have a friend. A new pet?”

He grunted, still smiling. “Maybe. We’ll have to see how he does, let him hang out with Moses for a while when he’s healed.” Moses was Drake’s German Shepherd and had an easygoing submissive personality. They’d probably do great together.

Poor Cyprus started to show signs of fatigue and went back to his kennel. Cedar never stirred, so she let him sleep. Maybe she’d try with him over her lunch break.

Just as Gabby closed the latch on the kennel, Cade’s hand slapped her back. Hard. “Nice job.”

Flynn strode out of the room, the door slamming as an exclamation point. She stared after him, worry tightening her chest. Surely he knew she’d never do anything she didn’t feel was safe. If Drake hadn’t been in the room, she never would’ve attempted to engage the dog. She’d wrestled canines bigger than Cyprus.

Cade grinned. “You scared the crap out of Flynn. He might need a shot of whiskey.”

Drake rubbed his hand over his dark hair. “Hell, I might need two shots. You had me concerned for a while, too.”

Cade glanced at his watch. “And we’re open. Time to see patients. Good job, Gabs.”

Drake nodded his agreement and she followed both men out.

She and Flynn had clinic today. Their first patient wasn’t for another hour. She stood in the hallway, wondering if she should give him some time to decompress or go check on him. He’d been really worked up and obviously concerned. After a quick debate, she headed toward his office.

He had his arms crossed and head down while standing in front of his desk. His dark, reddish blond hair was mussed and sticking up on the right side. Stance rigid, he didn’t seem to see her at first.

He wore dark blue scrubs that fit his lean, muscular frame. The drawstring waist was low on his hips and the cuffs of the top strained against his biceps. She recalled the way he’d held her last night. Gentle, despite the hard planes of his body, and his touch had been soothing.

Until she’d kissed him. Then he had her damp and desperate with the switch in chemistry. She wondered why she never paid attention to his quiet sexuality before. Flynn was a great combination of confident and humble, of boy-next-door and yum.

His chin jerked up as if he’d read her thoughts and his gaze locked on hers. Before she could blink, he was across the room. He shoved the door at her back closed and pressed her against it. Hunter versus prey, and the look in his eyes told her, in no uncertain terms, eating her alive was a distinct possibility. One hundred and eighty pounds of tense, hard male invaded her space. A jolt of pleasure rocked through her. With his palms on the wood beside her head, he crushed his mouth to hers.

Holy wow.

He devoured her, left no crevice of her mouth unexplored. Demanding strokes of his tongue swept against hers, fraught with strain and hot with hunger. Complete and utter domination. He pinned her to the door with his body, her nipples pebbling behind her bra, his erection snug against her belly. Every available inch of his body was in direct contact with hers.

She grabbed tufts of his hair, arching into him, and moaned. The vibration must’ve tipped him off because he responded with a growl, kissing her harder, deeper, until it seemed like he’d climbed inside her.

A fast thrust of his hips and he wrenched away, staring down at her through narrowed eyes with breaths soughing. “So damn proud of you. Scared a decade off my life in that room, but hell. That was a really good thing to see this morning after yesterday.”

His voice was lower, more guttural than the tone he’d used before. She was still trying to get used to hearing him without swooning. There was no chance. She was a goner. Not to mention, using that timbre while issuing compliments? Uhn. She could straddle him like he was a horse right now.

The strain left his body and he relaxed against her. His hazel gaze swept her face, a smile teasing his mouth. He brought his arms around her back, easing her onto her toes with the embrace. “How long are we doing the no-sex thing?”

She opened and closed her mouth. “I didn’t, uh...I don’t know.”

“I want you, Gabby. Soon.” A contented sigh escaped her lips as he nuzzled her neck. “Never been like this before,” he whispered against her mouth.

And then he kissed her again, softer, and she felt it all the way to her bones.