Chapter 15

Molly

“I understand your frustration.” I’m doing my best to remain calm, but the agitated man in front of me doesn’t seem to comprehend what I’m saying.

“It’s just a damn rabies shot,” he huffs for the hundredth time.

“Only veterinarians can administer rabies inoculations,” I repeat.

“Where else can I go?” With a sour look on his angry face, he glares down at the whimpering puppy in the too small cage at his feet.

“New York,” I answer dryly. “They allow vet techs to administer them there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he seethes. “Did the vet just decide to not show up?”

“He’s on an emergency visit in the field.”

It’s just one more thing that shows just how caring Owen is. It’s not an emergency visit actually, but a scheduled visit to Mrs. Keith’s house to see to her aging poodle. The elderly woman is homebound with a list of illnesses herself, but providing that information to the growling man in front of me wouldn’t make any difference.

“I can make you an appointment for later this afternoon,” I suggest.

“Can you keep the dog, and I can swing by and get him after work?”

“Sure.” I reach to the side and grab a clipboard with the appropriate paperwork. “There’s a twenty-five-dollar boarding fee. I’ll just need you to—”

“Bullshit!” he roars.

My face is schooled with impassivity. If this man thinks yelling and causing a scene will get him his way, he’s barking up the wrong damn tree. Surly men with anger issues aren’t new to me, and if a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound drunk biker with a god complex doesn’t make me quake in my shoes, this asshole won’t either.

“Sir, if you can’t be respectful, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Listen here you little bitch,” he begins, leaning over the counter in an attempt to double his intimidation tactic.

“Is there a fucking problem?”

Sighing in frustration, I peer around the customer to see TJ standing in the doorway of the clinic. He hasn’t even bothered to remove his cut, but I haven’t had the chance to talk to him since I started working here. The last thing I need is Owen finding out exactly where I was raised. He doesn’t seem the type to understand anything pertaining to the club.

“I asked you a question?”

The man swings around, ready to unleash his anger on my brother, but stops short when he sees TJ glaring at him. TJ’s stature doesn’t make him very intimidating, but the rumors that run rampant in town regarding the club forces most people to keep their distance. The leather cut on my brother’s back is enough of a warning.

The man’s jaw snaps shut.

“I…ugh.” The man has the balls to turn back and look in my direction for support. I merely cock an eyebrow at him. “I’ll come back later.”

TJ walks a few steps closer as the man reaches down to grab the handle on the portable kennel.

“You’ll find another vet,” TJ corrects.

“That’s what I meant.” The guy’s voice has risen an octave, and he can’t seem to get out of here fast enough.

I watch in amusement as he gives TJ a wide berth before opening the door and trying to leave so quickly he clips his hip on the doorframe.

After he’s in his truck and speeding out of the parking lot, TJ turns in my direction. “What would you have done if he came over that counter at you?”

I hold up the knife I’d grabbed out of my bag when the man raised his voice to me the first time. He was dangerously close to meeting the business end of it before he leaned in closer. The dick was lucky TJ showed up when he did.

“Atta girl,” my brother praises with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” Looking over my shoulder, I’m relieved Rosie hasn’t made an appearance.

“I brought you lunch.” He holds up a fast food bag I hadn’t noticed before.

“You’re spying,” I counter.

“And bringing you lunch.” He places the greasy bag in front of me. “Where’s your new boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Is he in surgery?” TJ glances over my shoulder at the door that leads to the surgical suite. “Think he’d know how to sew up a knife wound on a human?”

Glaring at him, my jaw begins to ache from clenching my mouth so tightly. “You need to leave.”

“Is that a no?”

“TJ,” I hiss. “Leave.”

“See you back at the clubhouse.” He says it louder than he needs too, purposely I’m sure. “Love you.”

I’m seconds away from throwing the greasy lunch at the back of his head to get him to lower his waving hand when the door behind me opens.

“Busy morning?”

“Not really.” I turn in Owen’s direction, praying he doesn’t notice the menacing raven on TJ’s back as he climbs on his bike and pulls out of the parking lot. “How is Mrs. Keith’s poodle?”

Owen’s quick smile is beautiful, and I’m drawn to the fact that he shares it so frequently. I don’t have to work for his affection, and the change of pace is addictive.

“Henry is doing well. Mrs. Keith, on the other hand, has seen better days.”

Frowning at the news, I inwardly wonder what would happen to the dog if she passes.

“Rosie is taking the afternoon off. Mind helping me with cages this evening before heading home?” He must be thinking the same thing because his smile fades as he speaks.

“Sure,” I answer.

“It’s a date then.”

“A date?” His quick grin returns. “I can’t think of anything sexier than animal poop and vomit.”

“Everything you do is sexy, Molly.” With that statement he walks away, leaving me to handle the customer who just walked through the door.

***

“How is she doing?”

Turning in Owen’s direction, I hold the sick puppy closer to my chest. “She drank a little water but wouldn’t touch the food at all.”

“Keep her distracted,” he tells me as he walks over with a needle.

“What’s that?” Cradling the emaciated pup to my neck, I wince when he penetrates her flank with the needle. She doesn’t even whimper, only wiggles a little, trying to snuggle closer to me.

“Vitamins,” he answers. “I’m concerned that she hasn’t bounced back quicker.”

The puppy was brought in over the weekend. One of the city workers found her shivering beside a dumpster outside the small grocery store we have in town. Infested with fleas when she was brought in, nearly all of her fur is scratched off.

“There you go,” Owen says in a soothing voice as he massages the muscle around the injection site.

“What happens to her when she gets better?” I can’t even let the idea that she won’t make it into my head.

“We have a foster family that’s willing to take her until we can find her a permanent home.” He walks away, disposing of the used needle in the Sharp's container on the wall. “Unless you want her?”

My head is shaking before he even finishes his sentence. The last thing we need at the clubhouse is a tiny puppy. The men there never watch where they’re going. I can only imagine what would happen to her under their clumsy boots.

I’m seconds away from verbally denying him when she jerks in my arms. An awful retching sound comes from her throat just before the warmth of puke slides down my neck.

“I was afraid of that,” Owen says with outstretched arms.

Quickly, I hand over the sick puppy, keeping my arms out and trying not to vomit from the smell.

I’m a statue while he places her softly back into her fresh kennel.

“Come on,” he urges, grabbing my hand and tugging me to the door that leads up to his apartment.

“I don’t have a change of clothes,” I mumble as I allow myself to be led up the stairs.

“I have a shirt and sweats you can borrow.”

My hand remains in his all the way up the stairs, through his living room, and into his bedroom. His grip tightens as he uses his free hand to pull open a dresser drawer and tugs out a change of clothes.

“In you go,” he says as he flips the bathroom light on in his en-suite bathroom. “Clean towels are in the cabinet.”

“I can’t shower here.” The bathroom is tidy, as was the rest of his apartment I was able to glance at on our way in here. “I’d have to get naked.”

“That’s exactly how showers work, Molly.” There’s humor in his voice as he releases my hand to turn on the water. “Lock the door behind me.”

Then, he’s gone.

I’m contemplating leaving his apartment in my dirty clothes when the smell hits me again. One look in the mirror and the decision is made for me.

“I should’ve worn my hair up,” I grumble as I pull off my t-shirt as gingerly as possible as to not get the vomit in my hair.

Wadding my clothes in a ball, I do my best to make sure the mess isn’t on the outside as I place them on the closed toilet seat.

I’m out and clean in less than ten minutes, a record for me. Finding Owen in the living room grumbling over a cluster of candles he can’t seem to light, I fight back a smile, biting my lower lip.

“Hurry,” he whispers to the candles.

“Having trouble?”

He snaps up, cheeks pinking with heat when he turns back in my direction. “I was—” He rakes his hand over his hair, smacking his forehead with the grill lighter still in his hand. He glares at the offending object before looking back at me sheepishly. “I’m no good at this.”

“Lighting candles?” I tease. He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing under my scrutiny. “Or romance and seduction?”

“It wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to seduce you.” He turns and with a puff of his breath, blows out the candles he’d painstakingly lit. “I just wanted—”

Walking closer, I shush him with a finger pressed to his lips. “It’s cute, adorable even.”

“Cute?” he mumbles against my finger. “I wasn’t going for cute, unless it appeals to you.”

“What was going through your head to make you light candles?” I step closer, our bodies mere inches away. “What was the end goal? To get me naked? To get me under you?”

His eyes widen as he shakes my finger free of his mouth. “I didn’t have an ulterior motive. I swear.”

“You did,” I counter, stepping closer when he takes a step back. God, he is horrible at this. As handsome and successful as he is, you’d think he’d be better with women.

“Molly.” His voice is almost begging, as if he needs a reprieve from my advances.

“Shhh,” I urge as I reach up on the tips of my toes and press my lips to his.

I realize it’s a mistake the second our mouths touch, but I don’t break away immediately. Maybe I just need to give it a few seconds. Maybe the spark will catch fire if I—nope, nothing happens when I open my mouth and touch my tongue to his. The tentative hold of his arm around my waist does nothing. The low whimper in his throat is nothing like the growl Briar blessed me with the second our lips touched.

It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless, and now I’ve crossed a line with my boss. One I can’t retreat back over and pretend like nothing happened. I really like my job, and I’m sad that I have to walk away from it now.

“Please,” he moans, holding me tighter when I break our connection and take a step back.

He doesn’t lean in closer, doesn’t turn me and press me to the wall, taking exactly what he needs in an attempt to persuade me to his will. He doesn’t do anything but plead with his eyes when I wipe at my lips with the back of my hands.

“Owen,” I say softly. I can’t even look him in the eye, and the warm atmosphere turns chilly in an instant.