“What? With everything going on?” I probably shouldn’t be so stunned after he stepped up for Charlie, but I can’t help it.
Warmth spreads through my chest.
“She needs a good home, and I have the network to find her one. People will line up for days after I post about her a few times.” He gives me that cocky grin, and for once I don’t blame him.
Dr. Ezzie looks at me, her eyes dancing.
Right. This is obviouslymydecision. She’s letting me deal with the little things, a warm-up to the big, scary decisions involving the entire clinic once it’s mine.
Fair enough.
I mean, I insisted we couldn’t just pack her off to a shelter. I’m also the one who took the call from her owner’s relative.
The warmth in my chest strikes a fire as I watch Brady hoist her up on two legs, scratching the Lab’s neck until she’s in heaven. There’s a very good chance I’m going to be burned.
I’m not sure if I care.
“Okay,” I say softly. “If you’re serious—if you really mean it—you can take her today.”
“Awesome. Any paperwork to sign? And if she has any leftover bills, of course, I’m happy to cover them.”
Oh, of course.
It’s not fair that this man proves gentlemen aren’t extinct.
Dr. Ezzie leads him back through the kennels to the clinic building. I linger behind, bending down to bury my face in Queenie’s neck, just breathing soft doggy fur.
She makes a low, uncertain grumble.
“Watch out for him, girl. He’s too nice, and I don’t know what to do about it,” I whisper.
Queenie whines.
“I know, I know. It’s just a lot.” I lean back, running a hand all the way down her neck.
She watches me with those adorable whale eyes.
You think that’s a lot? I’ve got to find a whole new home.
“Yeah, you’re right. You’ve got it rougher than I do. But he’ll treat you like the Queenie you are, and so will your new parents, once we find them. I promise.” I can’t quite bite back the smile.
Queenie dances around in a circle as I work on packing up her stuff: one big grey bed, a few toys with teeth marks, and her bowls.
Nothing else.
No other pieces of her old life.
It’s depressing, even if I know she’s in good hands.
But we have to move forward.
I shake my head, pushing the dark thoughts away.
If there’s anyone in this city who can help her find a loving new family who accepts what she is, it’s him. Brady Pruitt, instant best friend to an aging, happy, slightly dopey black Lab with worn teeth, worse breath, and a heart that’s overflowing.
When he comes back from reception, swaggering in with his eyes glowing and his stubble neatly trimmed, I’m ready to roll.
“I’ll have Luis round up what she needs and drop it off at my place,” he says as I help her into the trunk of the SUV. Despite her age, she’s still got lift, jumping in easily.
