Page 22 of Forget That Guy
“Anything that has copious amounts of sugar and will make me happy,” I teased.
She loaded me up, then added a few extra for Boone.
“See you this afternoon.” She smiled.
I was a regular at Reyelle’s, and usually stopped in before work and after.
“Thank you!” I waved at Shade who’d gone to put the chairs down off the tables.
He gave me a chin lift and kept working.
I headed out the door, then navigated the quiet streets of Sawtooth while quietly sipping on my coffee.
I kept my eyes peeled, because I may be in a quiet town that was pretty good about crime, but I was still a woman walking alone in the dark.
As I got to Windsor Animal Hospital—WAH as I dubbed it in my head sometimes—I used my key on the back door and headed to the back where the kennels were.
I greeted all of our boarders with smiles and coos, but stopped at one cage in particular.
“Hey there, Froto.” I smiled.
Froto was the runt of a Pomeranian litter that was in here a couple of weeks ago.
Froto’s family had gone home, but we’d taken possession of the runt when he’d been abandoned by his mother.
Froto was a cute little thing and had all the love in the world to share.
If I had a better home-life/work-life ratio, I’d take him home.
Sadly, I didn’t.
And I wasn’t going to adopt a dog that wouldn’t have my undivided attention.
Between Boone’s wife, Nettie, and me, we gave this little bugger all the love.
I was loving and kissing on him while getting the clinic up and running when there was a pounding on the front door.
My heart hammering, I walked to the office where the video feed was located and saw a man wearing jeans, a weathered Carhartt jacket, and a cowboy hat at the front door.
He was holding a large animal in his hands.
I put Froto back and headed to the front door.
Opening it wide, I blinked when I came face to face with Denver.
“Oh.” I blinked, trying to calm my pounding hard as well as mild annoyance that it was him on the other side of the door. “What’s going on?”
“My livestock guardians were attacked by the same wolves that got my cows yesterday,” he growled, anger in his voice. “Had to put my older one down. But Greta looks like she’s going to make it.”
I gestured for him to come inside.
He followed me into the back and laid Greta on the stainless-steel table.
I groaned when I saw all the damage to her face and front legs.
“Poor girl,” I said as I went to work.
Denver stayed at my side for a while, until Froto’s pathetic whining had him turning toward him.
