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Dex O’Malley was on the phone. “Yeah, not sure of the damage. Might be best if I come in.” Dramatic pause. Quick flicker of disgust in her direction. Blood still dripping all over the floor. “Yeah, later.”
He hung up. “I need to see the team doc.”
“Oh, right. Did you want to wrap it first? To stop the mess?”
He looked torn, but not quite as torn as his hand which was still leaking fluids of the bloodier variety all over the kennel floor.
Nice donation. Shelter stays open. Keep your job.
The Yes Girl was back.
She made an executive decision because that’s what Cora paid her for. Cupping his elbow, she gentled him forward through to the clinic.
“Come on through and let’s take care of it.”
5
“Does it hurt?”
“It stings more than hurts. I can’t believe that dog went nuts on me.”
“Oh, can’t you?”
Sarcasm noted.
“I was trying to help.”
“If you’d been on time, this probably wouldn’t have happened.” She grabbed some alcohol—the medical kind, unfortunately—and bandages from a cupboard. She’d taken him to what looked like an urgent care center at the animal shelter.
“How does me being late explain a dog you lost control of?”
Her eyes flashed. “I didn’t lose control. That was Bronte’s fault.”
Bronte? Sounded like some tree-hugger type. “So you can’t control your employees.”
“Bronte’s not an employee. She’s a visitor, like you. And I’m a soft-hearted sap.”
She didn’t sound soft-hearted. She sounded like a humorless drone.
Right now, she was focused on cleaning his wound which gave him a chance to study her. Caramel blonde hair in a pile on her head with a cat whiskers clip. Apple-green eyes ringed by a streak of silver. An upturned nose, ruby-red lips, and color in her cheeks, probably because she was angry about having to fix him up.
She applied some ointment from a tube and he bit back the gasp at the sting.
“Wait, is that stuff for dogs?” He took another look around. This clinic must be for animals of the four-legged variety.
“Works just as well on cats.”
He pulled his hand away. “I don’t want cat medicine!”
“Cool your jets, hotshot. It’s antibacterial ointment, for humans. The people who work here get a lot of scratches and minor injuries.”
“Okay. But this is a vet’s clinic, right?”
“It is. We have a part-time vet in here most mornings. Sorry, you’re stuck with me.”
Funnily enough, he didn’t mind, especially as her actions were so gentle. Despite the humor deficit and clear-as-day annoyance with him, she had great hands, soft and supple as she applied the ointment to the wound with care and patched a gauze pad over it.
“Do the dogs usually go off the hook like that?”
