Chapter XI Bad Dog （Lena）
XI
Bad Dog
(Lena)
Dr. Ezzie’s office always looks so tidy in the morning. I think the first thing she does when she gets in is clean up the mess of papers left the evening before.
Throughout the day, it gets progressively messier. By closing time, her desk looks like the aftermath of a buffalo stampede.
Luckily, I’m here first thing. But judging by the shock on her face, she’s half a beat away from tossing the stacks of papers on the floor and letting them stay there.
Hello to you too, anxiety.
I didn’t think I’d be this tense, coming to her with a buyout offer when it should be a dream come true, but here we are.
My brain spins, horrified at what will happen if, after all this, she still refuses and goes with plan A.
Plan A means my gross ex gets his grubby paws on Pawsome Hearts and its days are numbered. He’ll have it leveled in a matter of months to make way for more soulless high-rises aimed at multimillionaires, and he’ll be laughing all the way to the bank.
Maniacally.
So maybe it’s the stress dunking me in pessimism today.
Sue me. There’s a lot riding on this.
Dr. Ezzie pushes her glasses up her nose. She sighs and takes a sip of her coffee. Lately, I notice she’s running on extra caffeine and fumes of kindness.
Not healthy. Especially for a lady who used to skip out on her midday lunch breaks to jog two miles.
When she said she needed to take a break and focus on other priorities, she wasn’t kidding.
Which is exactly why I need to convince her I’m the miracle she’s been waiting for.
“I hate to ask, but you’re being absolutely serious, Lena?” She fixes me with a stare so intense it worries me.
“Serious as the grave, Doc.”
“You have the money? In your bank account? Or is this contingent on selling something else—”
“I do. All liquid cash.” I smile. “I had a bit of a windfall recently. It’s a long story, but the point is, I’m loaded.”
That gets me a tired laugh as she sits back and clasps her hands. I can’t blame her for being skeptical.
I’m the girl who had to ask her two or three times over the years to advance my pay early just to make rent when I had a nasty, unexpected car repair or major plumbing work.
“And you’re prepared to take on Pawsome Hearts as is?
With all its known issues? With its debts and liabilities?
” Her large brown eyes seem duller and bleaker than ever, like she’s begging me to walk away while I can.
“Tell me you have a cash cushion beyond the asking price. This place will eat you up fast if you don’t, and I’d never forgive myself if I let you get in over your head. ”
Yes, I planned for that.
“Doc, relax. How many times have you told me I’m a stubborn badass?
You know I’m prepared to dig in my heels and fight like hell for this clinic.
” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk—for once, there’s a patch of bare wood for me to lean on.
“I mean it. Everything I have is going into the Pawsome engine. I even brought along a written proposal.”
I reach into my tote bag and dig around for an embarrassing minute before I free the folder with the pages I printed off this morning.
I thunk it down on her desk with a grin. “It’s all there. You can comb through my financials with a grooming brush.”
“My, you are prepared,” she murmurs cheerfully as she flicks it open.
“I want this. Badly. I won’t let our clients down, or you, Doc.”
Her eyes swell with empathy. “You certainly have the gumption, and I believe you have the money. Of course, you know you’ll need another vet to—”
“Already on it. I’ve started looking, and I have a couple prospects for a partner. We’re meeting later this week.” I’m practically fizzing in my seat.
Is it bad that I’m obsessed with my work when ninety percent of my social life consists of a fake relationship?
Even if I didn’t love animals more than my next breath, I’d need a distraction from those kisses that shouldn’t keep happening.
Brady won’t leave my brain. Not even when I’m here, negotiating the biggest win of my life.
“Give me some time,” Dr. Ezzie says gently. “Frankly, I didn’t expect to have competing offers. Yours is a nice surprise, to put it mildly.”
“No rush. I’m just glad to have a chance. I’m going to make this work, Dr. Ezzie,” I assure her.
Her smile looks worn but genuine. “If the financials didn’t matter, Lena, I’d hand you the keys tomorrow.”
It’s pretty late by the time I get home.
My feet ache like usual, and I smell like wet dog meets fishy canned cat food. It’s been one of those days where the long shower will be mandatory.
But first, hot drink or microwave dinner?
No one ever said I’m a good cook.
I’ve just put the kettle on the stove for tea when there’s a loud knock at the door.
Oof.
Normally, that’s Granny Lark, the sweet old lady up the street and my bestie’s grandmother, wanting to catch up with me. But it’s late, and she’s normally bedding down after eight o’clock.
This weird psychic sense in my brain tells me not to open the door. Turn the lights out. Pretend I’m not home.
But what if it is Gran and she needs a hand with something? Wouldn’t be the first time she had a few bags of soil or mulch delivered and she needs my help to lift them due to her knee injury.
I’m not feeling sensible tonight. I’m tired and grouchy, and my feet are barking like angry huskies. It doesn’t sink in that it could be dangerous until I throw the door open and see my worst nightmare.
Effing Harry.
Just as tall and obnoxious as I remember. That long waxed mustache that should’ve stayed in the last century gives him a cartoon-villain vibe.
“Lena.” He bares his teeth in what might be considered a smile on another planet.
Not here. Not now.
My body stiffens, bristling to face the threat before my brain catches up.
“What are you doing here?” I spit, making sure I sprawl out to block the doorway.
“Hello to you too, doll. Aren’t you going to invite me in for old times’ sake?”
What is he, a vampire?
“No. What do you want, Harry?”
“Aw, jeez. I’m just here to talk.” His grimace-smile widens.
“Then talk.” It takes monster restraint not to add asshole to the end.
Maybe that’s why he stares at me like he wants to feed me into a wood chipper.
Believe me, it’s mutual.
When he sees I’m serious and I’m not budging, he folds his arms and lets the plastic smile drop a little. A good thing, so I’m not blinded by his overwhitened teeth.
I blink, a little too fast.
“I spoke to our friend Dr. Ezzie earlier,” he says. My bravado deflates like a dying old balloon.
Crap.
I should’ve known the only reason he’d show up is to pressure me or rub his disgusting triumph in my face.
I frown. “How’d you even know I’d be here?”
“Oh, let’s not worry about that. You’re a smart girl, and it’s your mom’s old house. Wow, you haven’t changed a thing, have you?” He leans in closer.
I get a whiff of his cologne, so strong it knocks me back.
Or is it the past sweeping in like an ice-cold wave?
God.
There’s a reason people say scent provokes the strongest memories. I think this smell throws me through time and space. Even if he’s older and meaner and richer now, he still wears that same damn fragrance.
Suddenly, I’m nineteen again, serving ice cream at Raven Swirls, my mom’s summer pop-up shop, and getting painfully shy when the best-looking man on earth shows up twice a week.
He always tips more than the cost of his cone. He makes me laugh with his crazy, antiquated mustache and his backward ballcap that says “Give A Damn.”
I’m twenty, my heart racing in his arms, listening to him tell me he loves me and he’s sorry if it hurt when he took my virginity. He just needs it “a little rough” to get off.
I’m almost twenty-one, and he’s outside my apartment, hurling a rock at my window.
It scares me when it hits and cracks the glass.
Telling me how “fucking brain dead” I am to get worked up over something so stupid.
He always gets black-out drunk on his father’s yacht with his friends because he knows “how to live,” and I need to just deal with it.
I’m twenty-two and still anxious. I’m expecting to come home to his ridiculous mustache twitching as he screams at me and breaks another plate in my house, even though he’s long gone.
I find one of his old shirts in the back of my closet. It still smells like him.
I burn it in the old grill out back, crying.
The full force of emotion almost makes me slam the door in his face, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
He doesn’t have that hold on me anymore.
I’m not the same dumb college girl, and I’m sure as hell not his little “doll.”
“Dr. Ezzie,” I mutter, playing dumb. “What about her?”
“She told me you want to buy her out. At first, I laughed my ass off. Then I realized she was serious.” He spreads his hands and inhales sharply.
“So, yeah. Let’s not make this personal, okay?
I bet you weren’t planning on dropping your life savings on that dump until I showed up with the funds and an actual plan. ”
He would make the bet. Harry never saw a pull tab machine at a dive bar he could turn down.
Then he’d bellow and kick the machine when it inevitably ate his cash until they threw him out.
But I don’t remind him what a spoiled, raging demon he is. I don’t say anything.
My feet stay glued to the floor. My heart jitters in my chest like a trapped bird, desperate to break out of its tiny cage.
“I’m serious about the buyout, Harry. Frankly, you’re better off moving on. You must have other projects?”
“Serious.” He snorts loudly. “Yeah, sure you are. So am I. C’mon, why don’t you let me in so we can sit down and talk like civilized people?”
Oh my God.
I can’t help my face turning red.
But finally, when I can take a step forward, I block his path more firmly, staring him down in his dead green eyes. The only way he’s getting in here is if he shoves me to the floor.
Which I wouldn’t put past him.