“The doctor,” she says pointedly. “Just wrapped up the last patient a few minutes ago.”
“But he needs a check-up,” I point at Mickey and then pout at her. “Just look at him.”
Mickey makes tragic faces at her. I pout harder.
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll ask him.”
“Tell him it’s his friend Nick,” I call after her as she pushes Elliot’s office door open after a cursory knock.
I kneel and pat Mickey on the head. “Good job, buddy. We’re driving straight to a pet store, and you’re getting all the treats you want,” I promise him.
I look around at Elliot’s clinic from inside for the first time. The place has the typical medical disinfectant smell, but it barely covers the animal smells. Wet fur, sweat. There hasn’t been another werewolf here, at least not recently.
I glance at the closed door again. Do I have the time to check the computer at the reception? Maybe. I’ll definitely be able to hear approaching footsteps. But frankly, I have no idea what I’m even looking for at this point.
Also, it’s not a nice thing to do. I draw the line at light stalking and illegal background checks.
A few minutes later, a citrus and sweet scent of warm skin, spicy soap, and clean cotton drifts through the air as a confused Elliot walks out of the office in loosely fitting scrubs, followed by his scowling receptionist. He looks up at me and then Mickey. Before I can explain, Mickey barks and runs over towards Elliot.
I move quickly, trying to rein him in. But he jumps, resting his paws firmly on Elliot’s chest, and licks his face.
Elliot smiles and gently coaxes him down. “What are you doing here?” he asks, patting Mickey, who now has all his paws back on the ground. The smile transforms Elliot’s face completely, his dark eyes crinkle, looking brighter. Wide pink lips turning his face into someone unrecognizable. Cute. I realize this might be the first time I’ve seen the man smile.
I clear my throat. “I adopted him today, and he needed a vet,” I answer.
He stands up and meets my gaze. Mickey whines at the loss of attention.Wow, Elliot is really good at his job.
“You adopted a dog?” he asks, surprised.
“I can take care of a dog,” I say defensively.
Elliot looks at me and then at Mickey with pity.
“Hey.”
“When did you get him?” he asks with a deep frown between his eyebrows. I find myself missing the smile.
“A few hours ago,” I admit.
“Why?”
Wow. What does this man think of me? I’m a responsible grown-up adult who regularly does responsible grown-up shit like adopting a dog. I’m a detective for fuck’s sake. They don’t hand out this job to just anyone. “What do you meanwhy?”
He studies me. “I’m sorry, that was rude. Do you want me to do a routine check-up, or did the shelter say he has some specific issue?” he asks finally.
Elliot apologizing for being rude? That’s another first. Maybe I’m getting the full patient treatment. Patient-dad treatment? “They said everything is fine, but I wanted to be a hundred percent sure,” I admit. And maybe also find a way to get to know you better and find out if you know about werewolves.
Elliot nods. “Of course,” he says and leads Mickey towards the exam room. “That makes so much sense,” he mutters under his breath.
I snort out a laugh, but cover it up with a cough and follow them.
Inside the small room, I sit on one of the tiny stools in the corner as Elliot checks up on Mickey with different instruments. Mickey cooperates like the goodest boy he is.
I watch his large, steady, skilled hands work with clinical precision as he guides Mickey with warmth I didn’t expect him to possess. Mickey’s gaze is filled with adoration for him. Mickey looks so at peace and happy.
Then it suddenly hits me. I have adog.
Oh, my god, how am I going to take care of him? I don’t deserve him. He would never look atmelike that. He was sleeping the entire time I was around him. He chose sleep over me.
