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 a fence.
Beckett’s opinion didn’t matter to the rest of the world, but it mattered to her.
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 pain wait.
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 was palpable.
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 black puppies.
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 member home.
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 after surgery.
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 the floor.
“What’s going on in here?” Quinton yanked off his plastic gloves with a snap. “I was just about to feed the circus.”
Daisy smiled down at the puppies. “That’s what I’m here for.” She handed Quinton a takeout bag. “For the ringmaster.”
He chuckled. “I feel like a ringmaster today. Thanks.” He washed his hands before opening the sandwich.
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 her down.
Quinton swallowed his huge bite. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She set the puppy in the kennel. He whined for a moment before finding a chew toy. “Just a long day.”
“How’d Beckett do?”
She rolled her eyes and bit her tongue.
“That good, huh?”
“He’s …” She searched for the right word. “Stuck-up.”
Quinton laughed. “The dude doesn’t own socks.”
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 South America.”
Quinton watched her cautiously. “He might be …”
“Pft.” Daisy flipped her hair over her shoulder. “And he acts like being good-looking is a crime.”
“With you, it is.”
Daisy gave him a disbelieving look.
“Seriously, I hate worrying about you when we go out. The way some guys look at you.” His jaw went hard. “My life as a big brother would be so much easier if you weren’t so darn beautiful.”
She shook her head as she picked up another puppy who had finished. “It’s my business.”
Quinton opened the bag of chips that came with the sandwich. He preferred the deep-fried, greasy kind, but Daisy had selected baked since they were better for him. “I know, you can’t help being beautiful anymore. This is your everyday look.”
She swallowed a smirk at hearing her brother use the phraseeveryday look.
“But just because you don’t pay attention to all that doesn’t mean guys don’t.” He paused, gulped, and then said with an unusually forced casualness, “And it doesn’t mean Beckett hasn’t noticed.”
“Now I know you’re feeding me lines. Just today, he said he was shocked my channel had any success.”
