by Cara Adams
Shape-Shifter Clinic 1
Calling Doctor Wolf
Dr. Oscar Thorne inherited his grandparents’ house and is turning it into a hospital for shape-shifters, helped by his best friend, carpenter Danny Davies. The paperwork is never-ending, so he hires office manager Ambrielle Watson to deal with it all. Oscar and Danny are both wolves and both Doms. Ambrielle’s a human and a sub. Is she a perfect match for them both?
Oscar’s cousin George Thorne contests their grandparents’ will, demanding the house and all the land for himself. While their attorney, Sierra Bond, handles the legal side of things, the men concentrate on establishing the hospital, renovating the house, caring for the patients, and wooing Ambrielle. She’s not convinced. She can’t imagine herself in a permanent relationship with two wolves who are also Doms. Besides, what if George does take the hospital away from Oscar? What will happen then?
Genre: BDSM, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Shape-shifter
Length: 38,167 words
CALLING DOCTOR WOLF
Shape-Shifter Clinic 1
Cara Adams
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
CALLING DOCTOR WOLF
Copyright © 2013 by Cara Adams
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-712-3
First E-book Publication: March 2013
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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CALLING DOCTOR WOLF
Shape-Shifter Clinic 1
CARA ADAMS
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
Oscar Thorne crouched on the edge of the roof hoping his weight was securely balanced over the midpoint of his body—or whatever the stupid physics rule was that meant he wouldn’t fall off the fucking tiles. Since he was a werewolf shape-shifter he’d heal fast, but that didn’t mean he wanted to find out just how fast any time soon.
He pulled leaves and twigs out of the gutter, threw them down to the ground, and inched along the roof another foot or so and checked the gutter. The next little bit was clean. Slowly he worked his way around the roofline, cleaning out the garbage of years from the guttering of the big old house.
The last time he’d been on this roof he’d been ten, wearing a Superman cape, and determined to see if he could fly. His grandma had finally talked him out of his plans, although he’d thought about flying for at least a year after that day. Right now, he wished he still had the carefree confidence up on the roof he’d had twenty-three years ago. As a doctor, he knew exactly what would happen when he landed on the ground three stories below and it wouldn’t be pretty. Also, he was not wearing a superhero cape today, just jeans and a T-shirt. He smiled to himself. Yeah, right, all he needed was the cape and he’d be fine. Suuuure, he would.
When he’d finished circumnavigating the roof, he sat back on his heels and looked out over the grounds. The house was surrounded by a couple acres of rolling grass lawns, with flower beds, trees, and shrubs near the house, and then more sparse vegetation over to a small lake at the side of the property.
His grandfather had been a very private person, not wanting anyone to know he was a werewolf, so the entire area was surrounded by a ten-foot-high brick wall, with broken glass cemented into the top of it to discourage visitors. Not that it would keep the really bad guys out, but it should be enough to prevent any idle snoopers trying to see what was going on.
And that was good enough for Oscar. Since he’d inherited the house he had set it up as a clinic for shape-shifters, and many of them were very much in need of privacy while they healed.
For the merest moment in time Oscar shivered despite the warm sunshine. When his grandparents’ wills were read and he’d been given the house and his cousin, George, had received the stocks, shares, and bonds. He’d thought for a moment George was going to create a scene. George’s look at him had been fierce, almost evil. But it had to have been just his imagination. There was no reason on earth why George would be angry at him.
Oscar had worked for years in a regular clinic and had seen the anguish of shape-shifters who were prodded, poked, and marveled about when they healed much faster than expected, or tried to reopen their own wounds to disguise the speed of their healing. Having a clinic just for shape-shifters was a dream come true for Oscar.
Of course, it was so new much of it wasn’t even ready for patients yet, but he’d been supported every step of the way by his best friend, Danny Davies, who was a carpenter and who’d carried out a lot of the remodeling for Oscar and supervised subcontractors as needed, while Oscar had concentrated on the medical side of things.
He wasn’t planning a fancy clinic, just one that dealt with everyday injuries and carried out small operations, with space for rehabilitation, so his shape-shifter patients could heal at their own pace and not need to hide their extra abilities. His first few patients were already working with a physiotherapist to get their strength back, while he cleaned the gutters and Danny remodeled a couple more rooms for patients.
“Hey, Oscar!”
Oscar startled, wobbling on the roof and grabbing for the lip of the gutter in alarm. “Shit, man. Don’t do that. I almost went ass over teakettle off the fucking roof.”
“Ass over teakettle? If you say so. Would you mind descending to the ground and paying some of these overdue accounts so I can order more lumber?”
“Just a minute, Danny.” Oscar cautiously made his way to the ladder and climbed back down to the ground, sorry to have his chance to admire the property cut short, but still glad to have his feet on solid land once more. Logic told him he could climb back up at any time to admire the view. Honesty compelled him to admit the chances of him getting up off the ground were not good. He was much more at ease down here. But hey, at least now when it rained he wouldn’t have water running down the walls.
“Sorry about the bills. I never knew there’d be so much paperwork associated with the actual building. I mean, I knew I’d have to buy a ton of gear, especially at the start, but some days all I do is place orders and pay for them. I want to make my own letterhead paper and all sorts of things, but there’s never enough time. The patients come first.”
“So hire yourself an office lady.”
“What?”
“Hire a PA. A personal assistant, an office manager, a girl Friday, a bookkeeper. A chick who can answer the phone, pay the bills, and shuffle the paperwork for you,” explained Danny.
Oscar grabbed the ladder, scowled at the pile of leaf litter on the pathway which he’d have to sweep up soon, and began walking around to the barn out back of the building. It was currently their storage room, maintenance shed, and garage. That was something else he needed to do. Sit down with a plan of the barn and logically divide it into its functions with clear areas for each purpose. Otherwise, sooner or later someone would knock over a paint can and likely it would splash all over his car.
Mentally he focused on what Danny had said. He could worry about all this other stuff later. “Do you think I’d be able to find someone who could do all those tasks? Someone with bookkeeping experience, yet who’d still be prepared to answer phones and design letterhead paper and do little boring office tasks?”
“I don’t see why not. When you put the job advertisement online be up-front about what you want. Likely someone’ll apply for it who’ll be just right. Here, give me the ladder. I’ll put it away and clean up the leaf litter you left everywhere. You go pay the lumberyard. I need to order more wood.”
Danny punched Oscar on the shoulder and they grinned at each other. They understood each other so well. “Thank you, my friend,” he said. Danny just nodded and shouldered the ladder. Oscar turned and headed back to the house. He lifted his head to the sky. “Thank you, Grandma, for leaving me this house. I just need a few more months to get everything sorted out, but it’ll be the kind of place you and Grandpa would have been proud of, I promise.”
* * * *
Ambrielle Watson raised her middle finger in the air as she spoke on the phone. “I’m sorry, sir, but that won’t be possible. You’ve already exceeded your credit limit and—”
She winced as the caller screamed expletives at her before the phone went dead. Once again she gestured rudely, then she changed screens on her computer and carefully filled out a legal form, demanding payment from the caller, and clicked Send. “Not that he’ll pay. He’ll go bankrupt and we’ll be lucky to see ten cents on the dollar on what he owes.”
Frowning, she clicked through more screens. Way, way too many companies had stopped paying them, or were only paying part of what they owed each month. “Next thing you know this company will be dead, too, and His Royal Idiotness can’t see he needs to change the way we do business.” She shook her head and reached for her coffee cup, only to spit the beverage back into the cup after a single sip. It was cold and disgusting.
She’d tried to get the manager to adjust his actions to what was happening all around them, but the man was impervious to hints and unlikely to do anything even as more and more clients were unable to pay them. No, much better if she found herself another job. One where she wouldn’t be surrounded by idiots. And one not in the construction industry, which seemed to be in rather a slump right now.
Ambrielle got up with her coffee cup and walked out to the lunch room. She rinsed her cup clean and made herself fresh coffee, adding just a tiny bit of cream to it, before walking back to her own small office.
I want my own office, though. I don’t want to sit in an open room with a dozen other people and so much noise I can’t hear phone calls properly. Ambrielle sat back down at her computer and clicked onto a job search website. One company was looking for someone to travel around the world for six months testing waterslides and swimming pools at resorts. The pay was only $15,000 for the six months, but all travel and accommodation was provided. Oh, I want that job! What fun it would be to travel the world and stay at resorts. Testing waterslides would be the ideal job.
She read on, watched the video, and sighed. Unfortunately the person who got the job had to have a large number of Facebook friends and be good at tweeting and other social media skills. Ambrielle was more a behind-the-scenes kind of person. She had a group of friends, she enjoyed life, and she’d absolutely adore spending six months trialing waterslides, but no. She’d never get that job. And even if she did, at the end of the six months she’d still have to find a real job. But it would have been so much fun.
Ah well. Office manager. Bookkeeper. Let me look at these.
“Small private clinic requires office manager with bookkeeping and reception skills,” she read. Hmm. Likely that means I’d often be the only person in the office. A bit of reception would be good. I need to talk to live people sometimes. But what if it’s just me and some abusive boss? That’d be a recipe for disaster. Or even if he’s just totally incompetent like His Royal Idiotness. Hmm.
Ambrielle Googled the clinic name, then the doctor in charge. The clinic was very new indeed. It’d only been in operation about three months. What if it failed? That was another potential area for trouble. But Dr. Oscar Thorne was well respected and she found no bad comments about him. In fact, he looked rather yummy. He had curly, short black hair and eyes that seemed black in the picture. He also had very broad shoulders that filled out his sport coat very nicely. She had a taste for men with broad shoulders. She was decidedly curvy herself and she liked a man who felt solid when she cuddled up to him.
Ambrielle flipped through the folders in her in-tray. There was nothing there that needed to be done today. That was another sign she needed to look for another job. When she’d started work here three years ago her in-tray was always overflowing with tasks. Now she had to force herself to move more slowly or there wouldn’t be enough work for her to look busy all day long. And she’d tidied her desk and desk drawers so often they were spotless. Which her closets at home were not.
Without any guilt at all, Ambrielle began composing an application for the job at the clinic.
SS Clinic
Dear Dr. Thorne,
“SS. What kind of name is that? Didn’t that stand for ships in the olden days? Yes, Steamship. So Steamship Clinic. That’s weird.”
Ambrielle checked back to the job advertisement on the website, but it was definitely an address on land. Just to be sure, she crosschecked on Google Maps, and the address given was nowhere near the sea. “Huh. Maybe it’s named for some person then. Just their initials.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Ambrielle settled down to explain why she deserved this job.
* * * *
Danny Davies hummed as he swept, raked, and tidied up the mulch and leaves Oscar had dropped from the roof. Silly man. He should have taken a bucket up to the roof with him and saved us both all this trouble. But Danny wasn’t cross.
He was so excited to see this clinic grow and develop and to watch the first few patients be healed. Shape-shifters had to remain hidden in the community. Having a clinic dedicated to their needs was amazing. At
last they could be themselves when they were injured. Their special needs were catered for without any need to hide their true natures. Transforming backward and forward helped them heal but there was no way a patient unable to leave their bed could do that in a normal clinic. Here, Oscar was at the patient’s side to help them all the time.
Danny smiled. He was the manual worker here. Oscar’s hands were used to feeling for temperatures and dislocated shoulders. They were better at setting bones than cleaning gutters.
Whereas Danny was a qualified carpenter and he understood drywall and joinery better than most people. His hands were the ones that knew exactly where and how to drive a nail into wood. Together he and Oscar were making a pretty good team at fixing up this old house.
It wasn’t taking much to turn it into a clinic. All the bedrooms just became patient rooms. It meant several patients would need to share each bathroom once all the rooms were occupied, but for now they could spread the patients out so each one had a bathroom to themselves. The bigger rooms downstairs were used for physiotherapy and other rehabilitation activities. The old kitchen had been ripped out and turned into an operating theater, with the old dining room as the recovery ward.
A new, much smaller kitchen had been installed, along with a new downstairs bathroom area, and a large, sturdy commercial-grade washing machine and dryer installed in the laundry.
Everywhere else had only needed some repainting, new drapes, polishing the floors, maybe a few repairs, and that was about it. Now he needed to look at the top floor and see what work was required up there, plus make an apartment for himself and Oscar.