Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

GARRETT

D r. Garrett Thompson hummed as he poured another cup of coffee, still thinking about the night before and the hot stranger from the arcade.

Despite the late night, he had been up at six to open the clinic at seven. His first patient, a temperamental Yorkie, seemed vexed not to be able to rip him limb from limb.

After escaping without serious bloodshed, he deduced that the Yorkie had digestive issues—enough to make anyone grumpy—and prescribed an antacid and change of food. The grateful owner thanked him profusely, while Kong, the Yorkie, had given him a look that promised retribution.

“I think Kong was a German shepherd in his last life.” Kirsten, his senior vet tech, said as she edged in to get coffee for herself. “He probably remembers, and he’s pissy because he got demoted.”

Garrett laughed. “Maybe you’re right. Although I’ve met plenty of shepherds who don’t have that big of a chip on their shoulder.” The creative tales Kirsten spun about their patients kept the whole staff entertained, giving their patients elaborate backstories and motivations.

Kirsten cocked her head as she looked at him. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I’m always in a good mood.”

She snorted. “Doc, you are not a morning person. Everyone knows that.”

“Maybe I got a good night’s sleep.”

“Uh-uh. You’re on your third cup of coffee earlier than usual. Do something fun yesterday?”

Garrett gave an elaborate sigh. “Busted. I binge-watched the latest season of that new monster hunter show. Finally got all caught up.” He hated to lie, but Garrett made it a point not to mix business and personal at the clinic. His staff knew he was gay and single, but they didn’t need to know the ups and downs of his love life. Which, to be honest, had been more down than up before last night.

His most recent serious relationship lasted two years and broke down because his boyfriend didn’t like the long hours that running the veterinarian clinic required. The city had both urgent care and emergency care options that picked up the tough cases, so Garrett’s office wasn’t as swamped as it could be.

Still, caring for his furry patients meant catering to the realities of their human parents, and that meant office hours that allowed drop-off and pick-up before and after normal working hours, weekends, and some evenings. The clinic did well, but while Garrett would have loved to hire a second vet to share the load, the budget wouldn’t stretch for more than the main clinic staff, vacation coverage for him to take a couple of weeks off, and a vet who only worked Saturdays to help cover the busiest times.

Garrett sighed. The business side was his least favorite part of running the clinic. His true love lay in helping dogs, cats, and the occasional guinea pig or chinchilla feel better and navigate their health problems.

Kirsten’s eyes narrowed as she watched him. “You look more relaxed than usual.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Garrett quipped.

“You’re never relaxed.”

“Not true. I was in a really good mood after Christmas break.”

Kirsten rolled her eyes. “That lasted until the Barton’s cocker spaniel tried to bite your nose.”

“And nearly succeeded,” Garrett pointed out with feigned indignance. “He’s a killer underneath all that cuteness.”

“No doubt,” she said dryly. “But the point remains—you’re suspiciously bouncy. Spill.”

“Can’t a guy just be in a good mood?”

“You have two moods—on-duty and asleep,” she replied. “I’ve seen you doze on your desk more than once. Did you actually do something fun?”

Garrett didn’t mind Kirsten’s good-natured questions. She was the same age as his older sister, and he knew she didn’t mean anything by her inquiries except for genuinely wanting him to be happy.

“I went back to that fancy arcade place. The food was just as good, and I hung around and played games for a while,” he admitted.

“By yourself?” Kirsten raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll have you know I’m a bona fide adult who can go places alone,” he joked.

“Never said you weren’t. But most people go to an arcade with friends or a date.”

“I got into some pick-up games with people who were there. It was fun.”

“Pick-up as in spontaneous, or as in pick-up ?” Kirsten generally saw right through Garrett’s deflections.

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmm. The absence of a denial is the same as admitting the presence of something,” she teased.

“You missed your calling as a prosecuting attorney,” Garrett replied. “Guilty as charged. I had fun playing mini-golf and escape room with a cute stranger. Not exactly stuff for the scandal page.”

“Good for you.” Kirsten had dropped the joking tone. “You need to get out more. Bailey’s company, but sometimes you need more.” She leaned down to pet Bailey as the black Labrador mix wound between their legs, hoping for treats.

“Don’t listen to her, Bailey. You’re my forever dog,” Garrett joked to lighten the mood.

Bailey gave him a soulful look and went back to sniffing Kirsten’s hand, where he found a treat.

Garrett had adopted Bailey after the dog’s owner had to give him up because her child had developed severe animal dander allergies. Bailey was a sweetheart, and he served as the clinic’s mascot and volunteer therapy dog, helping nervous owners and befriending patients.

“I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed playing those games.” Garrett was happy to shift the topic. “There was an arcade at the mall in my hometown, and my friends and I spent a lot of time and money there. Even so, I somehow almost never made high score. It’s the enthusiasm that counts, right?”

“I remember those mall arcades,” Kirsten said. “They smelled like Axe and desperation.”

Garrett laughed. “That’s truer than you’ll ever know.” He set his coffee cup aside with a sigh. “I think this is going to be a three-pot day. Got a lot on the schedule.”

“I already checked on the boarders—the kennel staff gave meds and was working on breakfasts. Patty and the front desk folks looked like they had everything under control. So that just leaves the appointments. You’ve got this, Doc.”

Garrett smiled, appreciating the vote of confidence. “That’s because I’ve got awesome staff.”

The appreciation was wholehearted. Garrett hired good people and paid as well as he could afford. That meant low turnover, and people cared about their patients as much as he did. Most of his staff had been with him since he opened the clinic three years ago, buying out the practice from a vet who retired to the Bahamas.

Kirsten went back to the kennels, and Garrett checked his schedule. “Five minutes left. Plenty of time for coffee,” he told Bailey and reached down to ruffle the dog’s ears. “Who’s a good boy? You know you are.” The rush of warm affection he felt made him smile.

Everyone praised Garrett for his amazing rapport with animals. He always deflected the comments, saying that he must have a trustworthy face that made his patients more relaxed.

The reality was a little more unusual. While he couldn’t actually talk to the animals like the fictional Dr. Doolittle, Garrett could read the emotions of animals instead of relying solely on their physical clues. He figured it must go at least a little bit both ways, because he had an uncanny knack for setting skittish patients at ease and helping aggressive animals calm down.

Kirsten stuck her head in the break room. “Your next appointment is here. It’s Reginald.”

Garrett grinned. “Reggie’s a good dog.”

“All dogs are good dogs,” Kirsten replied. “I’ll take Bailey in the back and send Eddie in to help. Reggie is in room C.”

Garrett finished his coffee, washed his cup, and set it aside before heading through the back hall to the treatment room.

Reginald the Great Dane sat at attention with his owner, Maxine. His black and white coloring always made him look like he was formally attired.

“How’s everyone today?” Garrett greeted them with a smile for the owner and a barrage of happy thoughts for Reggie. He noticed that the big dog favored his right front foot.

“I think Reggie stepped on a splinter,” Maxine said. “You know how touchy he is about his paws. He won’t let me look.”

Garrett made eye contact with Reggie, who quickly looked away. Definitely shifty.

“Will you let me look at your paw?” He sent plenty of good vibes, then stopped, trying to listen. He got a sense of pain and nervousness. Eddie slipped into the room, and Reggie looked between them nervously.

Given Reggie’s size, they were in the treatment room with a table that raised and lowered so no one had to wrestle one hundred and fifty pounds of a four and a half foot dog onto the examination surface.

Reggie climbed on like a trouper, but Garrett and Eddie knew they weren’t out of the woods yet.

“That’s a very good dog.” Garrett ran a hand down Reggie’s neck and gave him a skritch behind the ears. “Down.” Reggie obligingly lay down, upright.

“Now, let’s have a look at that paw.” Garrett shot a look at Eddie, who moved into position.

As soon as Garrett took Reggie’s paw and started to examine it, the dog whined in distress and keeled over in a dead faint.

“I’m so sorry. He’s always been like this,” Maxine fretted. “I don’t think it’s an act.”

“That’s okay. Eddie’s here to keep him steady while I get a look at that splinter.”

Reggie was famous for his fainting spells. He didn’t like getting shots, having his nails trimmed, his ears cleaned, or his teeth brushed. Most of the time, Garrett knew it was anxiety-triggered, but he felt quite certain that Reggie had learned to fake an episode to try to get out of something he didn’t like.

“Yep, that’s a splinter, but it’s not in too deep,” he told Maxine after checking the sore paw. “I’m going to pull it out, clean the wound, and wrap it up. Try to keep it dry and clean for at least a day.”

If Reggie had been faking before, he was out when Garrett gently pulled the splinter from the paw pad with tweezers. Eddie made sure Reggie didn’t suddenly scramble to his feet if he woke up and ensured he wouldn’t bonelessly slip from the table. By the time Reggie lifted his head with a groggy look, the paw had been treated and bandaged. Garrett reached into his pocket and offered Reggie a treat, which he gobbled up without hesitation.

“He’ll be fine,” Garrett assured Maxine. “Try to keep him from walking or running more than necessary for the next day or two so it can heal, and check the area where he got the splinter to make sure there aren’t more.”

“You’re always so good with him,” Maxine gushed as Eddie lowered the table. Reggie gave her a pitiable look and an exaggerated limp.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Garrett warned with a smile. “While I’m sure his paw is sore, he’s turning in an Oscar-worthy performance right now for maximum treats.”

“Oh, I know. He’s a total drama dog.” Maxine bent over to kiss the top of Reggie’s head. “He’d have me carrying him out to the car if he thought I could lift him.”

The rest of the morning passed without incident. Garrett gave vaccinations, rechecked vitals on older dogs with ongoing health issues, did a wellness exam for an adorable beagle puppy, and wrote a prescription for a carsick chihuahua.

At lunch, he checked his phone. A text message stood out.

Drake: Having a good day?

Garrett tried not to think about how his heartbeat sped up like a schoolyard crush.

Garrett: Pretty good so far. You?

Drake: Thinking about bowling and billiards.

Garrett: Me, too.

Drake: I can’t do tonight. Want to meet up there tomorrow night for dinner and diversions?

Garrett’s mind provided all sorts of images for diversions.

Garrett: Sounds good to me.

The message put a spring in his step. Garrett adjusted his scrubs so his semi wasn’t apparent. He hadn’t been sure whether Drake would go for a second date. He liked Drake and got generally good vibes. While his sixth sense didn’t work as well on humans as it did on animals, Garrett picked up something hidden or at least obscured about his new crush and wondered whether that was something to worry about.

It's only the second date. Of course there are all kinds of things we don’t know about each other. I need to chill out and let it run its course.

Garrett joined in with the staff’s delivery order of sub sandwiches for lunch and enjoyed the banter around the break room table as they ate. An over-enthusiastic golden retriever had pulled the groomer into the tub with him, and two boarding puppies in the exercise yard had bonded so much that they whined to each other when they returned to their kennels. The staff laughed and joked, recounting favorite exploits of their long-time patients.

That afternoon, Garrett had a couple of minor surgeries and then more checkups. He breathed a sigh of relief at the end of his schedule when Kirsten found him.

“We’ve got a last-minute appointment.” Kirsten’s apologetic tone let him know she understood that he had been wrapping up. “New patient—Mr. Colletta—says the dog fell off a patio and might have bruised ribs.”

Garrett picked up a jangled vibe that wasn’t usual for Kirsten. “But…”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just have a weird feeling, but there’s nothing to confirm it.”

“You think he hurt the dog?”

“No. He’s super protective and very worried. But he might know who did. I’m just not sure his story is the whole truth.”

Garrett figured he would know soon enough from the dog’s energy. “Okay, let’s go. We’ll deal with whatever it is, and if it’s a bad fit, we’ll give him a referral to someone else for follow-up.”

He had never seen Kirsten react to a patient’s owner like that before. Garrett resolved to keep an open mind. Every pet deserved good care even if they had crappy pet parents.

“I’m Doctor Thompson,” Garrett introduced himself when he entered the treatment room. “What seems to be the matter?”

A man in his late thirties sat on the bench next to a large gray and black boxer. The dog looked dangerous but gave Garrett a nonthreatening mix of love, loyalty, and anxiety vibes. He didn’t seem to be afraid of the man; instead, Garrett picked up a sense of bonding that was unusually strong.

The man, on the other hand, set off all Garrett’s alarms. Colletta wore expensive leisurewear, a top-brand hoodie, and track pants over pricey running shoes, and his haircut was more New York than Nashville. If central casting had served up a mafia enforcer, this guy would have nailed the part.

“Brian fell off the deck, and I’m afraid he hurt his ribs,” Colletta said in a low growl that reinforced Garrett’s initial impression.

“What symptoms make you think that?” Garrett resolved to take care of Brian and then make a referral. The owner gave Garrett a very bad feeling.

“He seemed winded when it happened, he didn’t get up right away, and he didn’t want to be touched on his side. I was afraid maybe he broke a rib or couldn’t breathe right, you know?”

Despite his tough appearance and the menacing vibes he put off, Colletta seemed deeply and legitimately concerned. That bought him back a little credit in Garrett’s book.

“I’d like to examine him. Does he bite?”

“Not unless I tell him to.”

So much for winning me over. Still, every sick or injured animal deserved treatment, even if their owners were assholes.

“Hey, Brian. Are you going to let me have a look at you?” Garrett nodded to Kirsten, and she lowered the treatment table again.

Brian looked to his owner, who gave a nod and pointed. Brian walked over, and Garrett heard the owner give a quiet command that had the dog hopping onto the table and remaining still as it rose. Just from the few steps Brian took, Garrett agreed that something was wrong.

Garrett did his best to project comfort and safety to Brian as he approached the dog. “I need to touch the ribs gently to see if they’re bruised or broken,” he said aloud, as much for Brian’s sake as for the owner.

Brian stood and permitted Garrett to run his hands lightly over both sides of the rib cage, wincing when his fingers reached a certain spot.

“I’d like to do an X-ray to make sure we know what we’re dealing with. Do you give permission?”

The man gave him a grumpy look and waved his hand. “Do what you need to do.”

Garrett and Eddie took Brian to the back, and Garrett was relieved when the dog followed happily and stood still for the camera. He was further relieved when the scan showed that the bones were intact.

“The good news is, nothing’s broken.” Garrett posted the X-ray for Colletta to see. “That means there’s no risk of puncturing a lung. But he’s clearly still in pain from the bruising. The ribs should heal on their own in about six weeks. Until then, he should be kept as quiet as possible to speed healing. No running or tussling with other dogs.”

“Can’t you wrap them or something?” Colletta gave Garrett an appraising look like he doubted his qualifications.

“I’ll give you a prescription for pain, which should make him comfortable. We don’t recommend wrapping ribs in people or animals anymore because it makes for shallow breathing, and that can lead to pneumonia or a collapsed lung,” Garrett said.

“I’ve had my ribs wrapped and didn’t die,” Colletta challenged. Garrett’s inner sense was pinging an alarm. While he believed the stranger’s concern for the dog was genuine, he picked up on violence that Garrett felt certain wasn’t his imagination.

“It used to be common practice,” Garrett agreed, not wanting to challenge the man. “But we’ve learned that constricting the chest can lead to worse problems. The medication and staying quiet should make him comfortable and that speeds healing. Just keep him from tussling or doing anything strenuous like leaping or jumping.”

“He’d better be okay.”

Garrett picked up on the implied threat. He bristled but didn’t want to tangle with the man. “I believe he will be.” Garrett forced himself to smile and focused on the dog. “Brian is a very good dog, aren’t you?” He scratched the pooch behind the ears.

Despite his discomfort, Brian seemed happy, which eased Garrett’s worry that the owner had caused the injury. While he couldn’t read Brian’s mind, his connection to his owner seemed unusually strong, even for a dog.

“Thank you.” Colletta stood and reached for Brian’s leash.

“They’ll take care of everything at the front desk,” Garrett breathed a sigh of relief when Colletta and the dog left the room.

“Everything go okay?” Kirsten asked when Garrett walked into the back.

“Yeah, although I’m okay with not having him as a repeat customer,” Garrett admitted. “The dog is fine. He can stay,” he joked.

Kirsten shuddered. “I agree. Something about that guy gave me the creeps.”

Garrett spent the next hour in his office with Bailey asleep on his dog bed while the staff cleaned and shut down for the evening. Garrett was careful to leave with the others. He often worked late, but tonight he felt better being in a group. Bailey wagged, and Garrett didn’t need to be psychic to know he wanted dinner.

“Well that was quite a day, wasn’t it, Bailey?” he said as they drove. “I wish you could tell me what you thought of that last customer.”

Bailey hadn’t seen Colletta, so Garrett knew he wasn’t going to get an answer.

When he got back to the house he rented, Garrett turned Bailey loose in the fenced backyard. Despite being at the clinic all day, Bailey still had energy to burn off. He ran zoomies from one side to the other, then thoroughly sniffed the bushes for squirrels and birds.

“Come on, I’m hungry.” Garrett ushered them both back inside. He had a ham and potato casserole already prepped and set the oven to heat, then went to change.

His scrubs went in the laundry. Garrett grabbed an old pair of jeans and a comfortable T-shirt, then padded out to put dinner in the oven and feed Bailey.

When his phone dinged, Garrett felt a rush of pleased surprise to find a message.

Drake: Working late. Getting delivery—again. What are you eating?

Garrett thought of several risqué ways to answer that question but didn’t feel secure enough yet to share them.

Garrett: I made a casserole. What did you order?

Drake: Sounds good. I got a Philly cheesesteak. Hard to screw up.

Garrett: Still on for tomorrow?

Garrett found himself holding his breath.

Drake: Counting on it. See you soon. Sweet dreams.

Garrett didn’t usually get swoopy about new partners. He readily admitted now, looking back, that too many had been picked on combustibility instead of compatibility. Nothing wrong with having both, but in hindsight, he suspected that lust alone didn’t last as long as shared interests outside the bedroom.

I’m getting ahead of myself. We’ve had one almost date. We’re going back to play billiards and bowling—and I hope, take things further than before. But I really don’t know him at all yet.

Although I’d like to.

Garrett’s dream to become a veterinarian had propelled him through high school advanced placement and honors courses through college and vet school. He had been prepared for long days and all-nighters. When he graduated, he signed on as an assistant vet with an established practice and saved his money to open his own office.

Buying the older doctor’s building and client list had been like catching a tiger by the tail. Garrett had learned the hard way what he didn’t know about running a practice, managing staff, and having money left over at the end of the month. At first, he slept in his office to reduce costs.

Finally, business picked up, and Garrett got an apartment and adopted Bailey. He enjoyed the work and liked his staff, but up to this point his schedule didn’t lend itself to having the time to do a relationship right. Since he wasn’t big on one-night stands, that meant watching a lot of movies with Bailey and jerking off when he got lonely.

And now there was Drake. Garrett knew their relationship was still new, but he was cautiously optimistic that they could be something special together. He didn’t hide being gay, but he didn’t flaunt his orientation, especially not in West Virginia, where the cities and the small towns could be a century apart in their opinions.

Could we be more than a couple of dates and a hop in the sack?

Am I ready for something more?

Garrett had been single-minded in his quest to become a veterinarian. He didn’t come from a wealthy family, and his father had been even less inclined to help with school costs when Garrett had been outed as a teen. That meant working his way through college and vet school, which didn’t leave much time for socializing.

Ambition mixed with the need to show his father that he could succeed. He won scholarships and earned work-study programs. Other than some backseat or back room fumbling around, he had shelved his personal life to make it through school and build a practice.

Now Garrett wanted more. The clinic was finally operating in the black, although he certainly wasn’t getting wealthy. Much as Garrett loved quiet nights at home with Bailey, he wanted to make up for lost time with friendships outside the office and a life partner he could love.

The timer dinged, and Garrett went to get his dinner out of the oven. He watched funny videos on his phone while he ate, then cleaned up the kitchen, fed Bailey, and moved into the living room.

Garrett felt too antsy to read, so he flipped channels until he found reruns of a favorite show, an action-adventure series about monster hunters. After demanding a short walk, Bailey curled up in his favorite chair and fell asleep, leaving the couch for Garrett.

He settled in with a glass of wine and some cheese, a slightly more grown-up version of watching television with popcorn and a soda as a kid. His mind wandered, thinking about his encounter with Drake, daydreaming about seeing him again.

Drake had been polite and approachable but also flirty and fun. He didn’t pout when Garrett got a higher score and seemed honestly happy when Garrett won a round. Drake had been comfortable with small talk, and didn’t try to escalate the evening too far, too fast. Even when they joked and trash-talked at the arcade, Drake hadn’t been mean-spirited, and none of his comments felt barbed.

On top of that, he was handsome and hot as hell.

Drake hadn’t said much about what he did for a living. He seemed comfortable around people and down-to-earth, not overly worried about spending money as they worked their way around the arcade. He wondered what had brought Drake to town and whether his business required a lot of travel.

Although it was far too soon to fantasize after only one date, Garrett hoped that Drake didn’t have to be away from home a lot. His schedule was so busy, Garrett pictured settling down with someone who had a more regular job with predictable hours.

Then again, I guess we could get a house cleaner and a dog walker.

He caught himself and laughed at jumping so far ahead after only just meeting, but deep down, Garrett hoped that he would see a lot more of Drake—both date-wise and in bed.

Time to get my life together and see if I can find the one. Bailey needs a two-parent family.

Full and happy with wine and dinner, Garrett slouched, daydreaming more than he was paying attention to the show. He thought about Drake in everyday situations around the house—running errands, cleaning up, cooking dinner, or working in the yard.

That last task conjured up images of Drake shirtless, glistening with sweat, toned body tanned and on display as he mowed the lawn and tended the plantings.

Garrett’s hand fell to his crotch as he imagined watching shirtless, sweaty Drake doing yard work, then cooling off with the spray from the garden hose, getting soaking wet. That would make his jeans cling to his muscular legs and generous package. Garrett had snuck a glance or two at Drake’s bulge while they had played at the arcade and liked what he had seen, only to have it confirmed by their session in the truck.

Maybe I’d bring him iced tea when he was working in the yard. He’d kiss me, and I’d protest a little about getting sweaty, even though I loved it.

He unzipped and slipped his hand inside his briefs, wrapping his fingers around his cock and starting a slow, steady rhythm slicked with pre-come as he imagined making out with Drake in the backyard, then the screened-in porch. He pictured going to his knees to suck Drake, pushing him against the wall, steadying him when his knees nearly buckled with the intensity of his climax.

In his imagination, Drake tackled him to the floor, pulling off Garrett’s jeans and underwear and returning the favor, taking his time to suck his balls and then going back to a steady rhythm. When dream Drake took him into his throat and hollowed his cheeks, Garrett couldn’t hold out any longer. He cried out Drake’s name as he came, spilling over his fist, gasping for breath.

Afterward, he lay still for a few minutes, heart hammering, riding the high. He reached for his T-shirt and wiped off his hands and thighs. As good as the climax was, Garrett felt a surge of loneliness, wishing Drake had really been present.

We’ve got a date tomorrow night. Maybe I can get him to come home with me. I like him, and I really want to see where this can go.

Who knows? Maybe Drake will be the one I get to keep.