Stray
By
Natasha Stories
Copyright 2014 by Natasha Stories
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
“I’m not cleaning that, Erin” Megan said, wrinkling her nose at the condition of the examining room. I wouldn’t have blamed her, except that it was part of her job as my veterinary technician, though she mainly functioned as a receptionist. And because I couldn’t do that and run the day-end report at the same time and it was past closing time.
“Megan, please. I know it’s unpleasant, but I really need your help right now. Come on, put the closed sign out and let’s get this taken care of, so we can get out of here.” I pushed the strands of hair that had escaped from my French braid since the last chance I’d had to look in the mirror and fix it. It had been a long and stressful day.
“No.”
I stopped arguing with a sigh. It would do no good, and I was in no position to force her to do anything. I didn’t own the clinic, her father did. I couldn’t fire her, couldn’t even complain about her attitude. For the thirtieth time in the month I’d been employed at Sunshine Veterinary Clinic, I wished myself back home. And for the thirtieth time, I reminded myself why I was here in the first place.
Sunshine, Colorado. The name alone had attracted me when I saw the ad. It sounded like somewhere that had sun year-round, though my hometown of Dallas, Texas wasn’t what I’d call gloomy. Tucked in a tiny mountain canyon near Boulder, Sunshine also boasted an upscale ski resort.
What had attracted me, though, was the ad for a veterinarian. And the fact that it was hundreds of miles away from Dallas and my ex. I had a bit of money saved, not much because I was still paying for vet school, which I’d finished only three years before. Enough to move, though, and the salary offered would allow me to replenish my savings within a year. Best of all, the ad hinted that the owner was semi-retired and would be offering to sell the practice to the successful candidate.
From the time I was a kid, I wanted nothing other than to heal sick and injured animals. I loved dogs, cats, rodents, even bigger animals like horses and sheep, though cows were a different matter. Small animals were what I’d specialized in, though, and in the job I had straight out of school, dogs and cats predominated by a large margin, with the occasional hamster or cockatoo thrown in. An urban veterinary practice would almost always be like that.
The practice in Sunshine, though, might be different. It was a small town, and I imagined that there would be farmers or ranchers nearby. Before I applied, I did some research. I learned that the majority of patients were dogs and cats after all, some purebred show animals.
According to the internet, the town was a curious combination of old-time residents, those who never left after the mines played out, ski resort employees and wealthy residents attracted by the resort and the proximity to Boulder while still living in a mountain paradise of tall evergreens and fresh air. Not many ranchers or farmers, then. I submitted my resume and cover letter online and waited.
In the meanwhile, I reconnected with a few girlfriends from my undergraduate days. Some of them were now teachers, others had various corporate jobs, but I was the only one who’d stayed in school an extra four years to go into any kind of medicine.
I was looking forward to a girlfriend get-together over New Year’s weekend. Some of them liked to ski, so if I got the job, I had acceptance from two and a ‘maybe’ from one other. The fourth hadn’t responded, but she was a socialite, so I assumed she was busy. I was excited to see them because the difference in lifestyle between my undergraduate friends and me had pulled us apart slowly, our get-togethers becoming less frequent until they were practically non-existent, especially after I met Greg.
I so didn’t need to go there tonight. My frazzled appearance was bad enough, but could be taken care of easily if I could just get Megan to help do something.
“Okay, I’ll do it. I’m already a mess anyway. Would you do the day-end cash register report?”
“I was supposed to leave at six. It’s already seven,” was her non-answer.
“I know, Megan, but we can’t turn Mrs. Padgett’s animals away. If we lost her cattery to another vet, your dad would kill me.”
“Not my problem.” GRRRR! I wanted to strangle the little brat.
“Please.” I had run out of patience to reason with her and had no more arguments left anyway. I was reduced to begging her to do her job. Again.
“My dad never made me do any of this stuff when he was here. All I had to do was answer the phone and check in the patients.”
“I know, Megan, but your dad had another tech at the time. When you graduated from tech school and he hired you full time, he expected you to do that job, too. I can’t do it all by myself, I need your cooperation. Will you do the day-end, or not?”
“Fine, I’ll do it this time. But you have to start closing on time. This screws up my plans, and it’s Friday night. If you keep doing this to me, I’m going to tell my dad.”
I turned my back as I thanked her, so she wouldn’t see my eyes roll. Tell her dad. I felt as if I’d gone to work in a day-care center instead of a veterinary practice. I went to the cleaning closet for supplies to get on with the cleaning job before the mess on the floor dried and had to be scraped off. I might as well clean up the office before cleaning up myself.
At least there was a shower for the medical staff here—me—and I’d learned early from this very patient to keep a change of clothes. Mrs. Padgett’s prize Persian, Maharajah, was a frequent patient. He had chronic tummy problems.
With rubber gloves on my hands and a roll of paper towels, I started mopping up the bulk of the mess. After that, I’d clean up with cleaning solution and then take my shower. I’d follow that with a sterilization routine for the entire examining room, in case Maharajah did have a communicable disease instead of just a delicate digestive system, though I doubted it.
I’d have to wash the soiled clothing from my long day in hot water at home. It wasn’t the thirtieth time I’d thanked my foresight in insisting on an apartment with its own washer and dryer, but that was also a frequent addition to my list of gratitudes.
Ick, this job was disgusting. That’s saying something when you’re a vet, accustomed to cutting live animals open for surgery, or giving worm treatments. Not to mention examining pregnant cows, but I’d avoided that so far. No wonder Megan flatly refused to do the cleaning. I wasn’t s
ure I’d ever get the stench out of my nostrils.
I needed to check on Megan’s progress with the day-end as well as any other front-desk tasks she’d neglected during the work day. This was a daily battle, and tonight I was petty. In revenge for her refusal to do the cleaning job while I cleaned myself up, I went out to her desk still in the clothes I’d worn all day, surely none to pleasant to the nose, and leaned over her to see what was on the computer.
Megan hadn’t heard me coming up behind her. I could only assume she smelled me when her hand flashed to switch screens, but not before I caught a glimpse of a more than half-naked man posed in a bed. Oh, for God’s sake, really? I added ‘searches porn on company computer’ to my list of her transgressions. As soon as I was able to buy this place, I was so going to fire the little brat.
“Megan, have you run the day-end yet?” I asked, with an effort to keep my voice neutral.
“No, I was busy with other stuff,” she replied, waving vaguely at the display of organic pet foods and treats, collars and toys. “I had to straighten the collars, someone mixed up the dog and cat ones. And restock,” she said, a fake virtuous look on her face.
“Okay, that’s fine, and I’m glad you noticed,” I said. It wouldn’t hurt to make an effort to praise her when I could. Maybe she’d thaw eventually and her presence would be tolerable. Right now, she was worse than useless. “But, would you go ahead and run the report now? I’ll be back out to check it when I’ve cleaned up.”
“Okay, but don’t take too long in the shower. I really need to leave,” she complained.
My teeth clenched tightly against my sarcastic reply, I managed not to say ‘then why didn’t you run the report instead of doing that stupid make-work nonsense, not to mention the internet porn?’ I had no objection to half-naked eye candy myself, but I didn’t look at it on company time or on the company computers.
Returning to the back of the clinic, I took a minute to check the other rooms, wondering if Megan had at least cleaned those while I was with patients during the day. Dog room B had a funny smell, so I turned on the overhead lights to look around and spotted a suspicious puddle underneath the examining table. This was getting not only irritating, but dangerous. If I couldn’t trust her to properly clean between patients, we were going to end up cross-contaminating some of them.
In despair, I sat on the rolling stool and stared at the puddle, knowing I was going to have to clean it too and that no amount of talking to Megan was going to make it any better. I was also going to have to find a way to complain to her dad, if I could find the schedule he’d left me of when I could reach him and Megan’s mom on their extended vacation. The prospect of that conversation was enough to make me cry, but I clenched my teeth again. Not where she could see me, not ever. It could wait until I got home.
I went to get the mop and bucket, making a mental note to sterilize this room, too. Maybe I could get to the clinic early tomorrow and do them all, now that I knew Megan probably hadn’t. My salary suddenly seemed too small to put up with all this. If it wouldn’t leave the town without a vet, I’d walk out tonight and never come back, I thought, knowing it was a lie. I didn’t have enough money to move again; I was stuck.
When I’d finished cleaning the puddle, I called out to Megan that I was going to shower. There was no answer.
CHAPTER TWO
As tempting as it was to get into the shower without checking, I needed to make sure Megan was still here, or at least that she’d locked the door behind her. I rounded the corner just as she began shouting.
“We’re closed! Come back tomorrow.”
“Megan, what…” I started, and then noticed the guy outside, struggling to hold a dog in his arms and bang on the door at the same time.
“He’s injured,” came the muffled shout. Then another round of banging. I started toward the door.
“We. Are. CLOSED!” Megan shouted, making me jump. I turned to glare at her.
“Megan, this is an emergency. You don’t turn emergencies away.” Heedless of my appearance, I hurried to unlock the door to let them in.
“Don’t you dare open that door!” she screeched. “I want to go home now!”
“Go, then. I’ll take care of it.” The door was opening, finally, and the man shoved his way in, dumping the heavy dog in my arms as he rounded on Megan. For a moment, my skin buzzed as his arms came into contact with my hands during the transfer. I chalked it up to static electricity as I juggled the dog awkwardly.
“What’s wrong with you? This dog needs help,” he said to Megan, his voice crackling with anger.
I could imagine her sulky face, but didn’t bother to look as I had my hands full, literally, with a dog I could barely hold, who was shaking and wheezing. I needed to sort him out immediately. But first, I had to get him away from the stains on my lab coat.
“Take this dog, I need to get on a fresh coat,” I snapped at the guy. Now he was turning to me with a snarl, but when he saw my coat, he held out his arms for the dog.
“Hurry,” he said.
“Come with me.” I was stripping off the soiled lab coat as I walked back toward the examining rooms, hoping Dog A had been properly cleaned. On the way, I yanked open the supply closet and snagged a clean coat.
“Put him on the table and stay with him to make sure he doesn’t fall off,” I directed, expecting him to comply without looking. I needed to wash my hands and get the coat on, stat.
When I turned back, he was standing beside the table, with one big hand resting on the dog’s flank while the other caressed his head. The dog had calmed somewhat, but was still whimpering with pain.
“What’s his name?” I asked, joining the owner at the side of the table.
“I don’t know. My car hit him, he just came running out into the street. Please, help him.” As he spoke, I began to examine the dog and the man was able to take his hands away. He took off his coat, which had been open in the front already, and, casually stripped off the bloody shirt underneath.
That’s when I looked at the man closely for the first time, and had to put my hand on the table to steady myself. If he wasn’t the most gorgeous man on the planet, he had to be in the top ten. Tall, at least six-four, six-five, his messy, dark curly hair invited my fingers to run through it, and the brown eyes flecked with amber under those sculpted brows looked straight into my soul. But the killer was that chest, an intriguing tattoo across his right shoulder and a chest that bespoke hours in the weight room. My eyes traveled downward. Those abs, the V-shaped valley on either side, led to deeper mysteries. The man was a god!
“What’s the matter? Aren’t you going to examine the dog?”
His confused expression as he put his coat back on brought me back to earth, and I shook off the stab of lust that came from nowhere. Clearly six months without sex was beginning to take its toll.
“Of course. Tell me what happened,” I said, as I began the task of evaluating the dog’s condition. I could see that his hind leg was undoubtedly broken. From the look of it, the dog had run from the right-hand side of the road and was caught by the tire on the driver’s side. The fact that he wasn’t even more injured told me that he hadn’t been thrown under the car, that he’d almost made it across the street. If the man had hit him because he dashed out into the street without warning, he had to have been driving too fast on the icy village roads, or he should have been able to stop. His story didn’t add up.
“Like I said, he ran out into the street. I didn’t see him until it was too late.” So, he was sticking to the story, unaware that I could prove it was a lie. I was beginning to dislike this character, gorgeous or not. I asked him to step back and give me room as I began to work on the dog.
The patient was a Golden retriever that seemed to be purebred but neglected. Even being hit by a car didn’t explain the matted fur everywhere on his body, or the emaciated body under it. I could easily feel his ribs through the mats, and a quick look at his toenails revealed he hadn’t seen a gr
oomer in a long time. I spoke softly to him as I quickly palpated his belly and then turned my attention to his leg. Closer examination told me the leg was not only broken, but that the fracture was compound. I’d have to get the matted fur off before I could tell whether the leg could be saved. I asked the man to steady the dog on the table while I prepared a sedative.
“This dog is a stray. You have a choice. You brought him in, so you can either take responsibility for the bill, or I’ll have to put him down. His leg has a compound fracture.”
I turned with the syringe in hand just as I mentioned putting him down, to find a pair of stricken brown eyes staring at me.
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