No Broken Beast, page 40
“That’s enough, Ms. Delwen,” he interrupts, still not looking at me.
But if I’m not mistaken, there’s almost a touch of gentleness in his voice, the same tone he uses with animals while ignoring the humans attached to them. “If you could wait in my office, I’ll handle Baxter and our guest.”
Somehow, I don’t think Baxter is the one he intends to handle here. And the way he says guest might be the kindest substitute for bitch I’ve ever heard in my life.
I’m frozen for another moment. This has to be the weirdest day of work in my life, and when I was sixteen, a naked flasher in a trench coat showed up at my ice cream shop during my first shift and demanded two scoops of Rocky Road in the middle of his hairy chest. I gulp hard, heart hammering, then nod quickly.
“S-sure,” I manage. “Excuse me.”
And without another word, I go skittering from the room, tumbling through the door, managing to bang my shoulder on the frame. But I don’t breathe again until the door shuts behind me, latching firmly and cutting off one last hard, strange look from Doc.
Can a girl kill herself with too much shame? I think we’re coming close to finding out.
I slump against the wall, pressing a hand over my chest. Something about that little encounter has my heart rate going full roar, ramping up to a hundred miles an hour.
Some people fight with bluster and force and shouting and violence. Not today. Even if there’s no denying there’d been a battle in there, a confrontation that took place in nothing but silence, knowing looks, and lingering words.
I couldn’t tell if Doc and that woman hated each other, or something more.
Maybe a bitter ex?
Or maybe they’re still together, and things aren’t going that well.
Ugh. I don’t know anything about him, honestly. The possibilities are endless.
A sour smile pulls at my lips. Because if that’s his taste in women...
The hopeful ladies of Heart’s Edge won’t catch up in a million years.
I lift my head, though, at the sound of voices from inside. They’re muffled. Secretive.
I can’t make out many words. Not enough to figure out what’s going on, but it doesn’t sound like a lover’s quarrel.
I catch something about the number nine, and something that sounds like...strike team? Huh?
Strike team.
That’s military terminology.
Or police.
A team of people sent in to do a job quickly and efficiently, and then get out fast with as few dead bodies as possible. More emphasis on the time than the body bag count, if thriller flicks have taught me anything.
Now I’m just confused.
Why on earth would a small-town vet, no matter how handsome, be talking about strike teams with a woman who just showed up with a barfy cat?
And just what have I gotten myself into, signing on to work here?
Deep trouble, I realize when the door opens so abruptly, I jump with a little squeak, stumbling to one side, then right myself and clap my hand over my mouth.
The woman emerges with her cat carrier. She pauses mid-stride when she sees me, looking down her nose briefly, before turning and walking away.
There’s not a single sound save for the deafening click of heels on tile and a single plaintive mewl from Baxter.
Why do I feel like I just dodged a bullet? I take a few shaky breaths. Standing there, while that woman looked at me like I was trash, felt like being locked in gunsights, my entire body tingling with nerves.
Then another jolt hits me as Doc’s voice comes from behind me.
“Ms. Delwen,” he says flatly, “I believe we need to have a chat about proper clinical procedure.”
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About Nicole Snow
Nicole Snow is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. She found her love of writing by hashing out love scenes on lunch breaks and plotting her great escape from boardrooms. Her work roared onto the indie romance scene in 2014 with her Grizzlies MC series.
Since then Snow aims for the very best in growly, heart-of-gold alpha heroes, unbelievable suspense, and swoon storms aplenty.
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Nicole Snow, No Broken Beast
