Vivian put her hand on the handle. “What are you doing for the rest of theday?”
“I—” Daisy had planned to go home and answer the emails from fans the management service forwarded to her account for personalized responses, but she didn’t think she could look Beckett in his handsome face right now. “I’m headed over to the vet clinic. They have new puppies.” Being surrounded by eight fuzzy balls of adorableness was exactly the pick-me-up sheneeded.
“Okay.” Vivian exited the vehicle. “Listen.” She hefted her camera bag over her shoulder. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s just a passing through—his opinion doesn’tmatter.”
Daisy slapped on a smile. “Thanks! And thanks for having myback.”
“Always.” Vivian waved before heading up the frontwalkway.
Vivian said Beckett’s opinion didn’t matter, and in the grand scheme of things, it probably didn’t. He couldn’t make or break her channel. In fact, in a few short weeks he’d be out of the country, out of her house, and out of her life once again. What he said shouldn’t matter. Except that it had. His words had pierced not only her pride, but herheart.
Daisy sighed. Telling someone to ignore a rude comment is advice easily given and hard to follow. Especially because Daisy had always looked up to Beckett. He was the hand that reached down to help her climb into the tree house and the boost she needed to get over afence.
Beckett’s opinion didn’t matter to the rest of the world, but it mattered toher.
Daisy went through a drive-thru and ordered sandwiches for her and Quinton. Beckett could fend for himself at the house. It was three in the afternoon, but Quin hardly remembered to eat when he worked. Her brother couldn’t stand the idea that he made an animal in painwait.
She made her way to the clinic, parked in the back, and entered through the employee entrance. The front office was usually crowded with dog owners holding tight to leashes and cat owners protectively covering carriers—the tension waspalpable.
Once inside the building, she adjusted the takeout bag and turned right to enter the kennel room. Several cages in different sizes lined the walls. In the center of the room was a counter where Quinton could examine patients. The walls were eggshell white and the countertop was too, while the cabinets underneath were black with silver knobs. The whole area was as clean as any room with several animals can be with the sharp smell of cleaner in the air. In the largest kennel was a litter of brown and blackpuppies.
A Good Samaritan had found the pups in his abandoned woodshed. The mother was found first, her back end broken and her eyes glassed over. She’d probably been hit by a car and struggled to make it back to her litter. She’d survived transport to the clinic, but had died shortly thereafter. Quinton’s staff cared for the puppies round the clock. They were five weeks old and most had been adopted—the owners eagerly anticipating the date they could bring their new family memberhome.
Daisy checked the feeding schedule and found that they were due for a round of formula. Judging by the yapping and yowling from up front, the staff had their hands full. Daisy mixed a batch of formula and poured it into several feeding bowls. When the clinic first opened, she’d spent Fridays and Saturdays helping Quin with basics like cleaning and organizing and caring for animals aftersurgery.
The puppies spilled out of the open door, their tails wagging so fast they knocked themselves over. She laughed at their antics. “There’s plenty for everyone.” She nudged the chubby puppy to the side to make room for his sister. She pointed a finger at him. “Share.” He ignored her, lapping up the formula and slobbering all over thefloor.
“What’s going on in here?” Quinton yanked off his plastic gloves with a snap. “I was just about to feed thecircus.”
Daisy smiled down at the puppies. “That’s what I’m here for.” She handed Quinton a takeout bag. “For theringmaster.”
He chuckled. “I feel like a ringmaster today. Thanks.” He washed his hands before opening thesandwich.
One of the puppies lost interest in the formula. Daisy picked him up, wiped his little face and hands with a cloth out of the drawer, and snuggled him close. He relaxed right into her, enjoying the comfort. His warmth and soft, clean fur soothed her troubled mind. Beckett’s comments didn’t sit right and she struggled to accept that someone she admired had put herdown.
Quinton swallowed his huge bite. “Youokay?”
“Yeah.” She set the puppy in the kennel. He whined for a moment before finding a chew toy. “Just a longday.”
“How’d Beckettdo?”
She rolled her eyes and bit hertongue.
“That good,huh?”
“He’s …” She searched for the right word. “Stuck-up.”
Quinton laughed. “The dude doesn’t ownsocks.”
Daisy shook her head. “Not that kind of snobby—more like he thinks the things he cares about are the only important things.” She scrunched up her nose. “It’s not like he’s responsible for every well in SouthAmerica.”
Quinton watched her cautiously. “He mightbe…”
“Pft.” Daisy flipped her hair over her shoulder. “And he acts like being good-looking is acrime.”
“With you, itis.”
Daisy gave him a disbelievinglook.
