Читать книгу Miami Attraction - Elaine Overton - Страница 8

Dr. Dusty Warren had just finished the procedure of neutering a one-year-old Yorkie, and was in the process of tying off his final stitch in his operating room when he heard the commotion coming from the outer offices of his veterinarian hospital.

He frowned at his nurse, but Nurse Francine Weathers shrugged in confusion. Dusty forced himself to ignore the unidentified noises and focus on his patient.

Then a loud crash, followed by a screech, a scream and an irate voice caused him to put down the instrument and go to the door.

He opened it just as a bolt of reddish-gold fur shot past the door with a long, red cloth trailing behind. He recognized the blur as a dog right before two of his staff came charging around the corner, chasing the dog.

“Come back here, you hell hound!” His front-desk receptionist, Hannah, called, sounding more angry than he’d ever heard her before. Hannah was the most cheerful employee he had.

Right behind Hannah was Tim, one of his property caretakers, and Tim’s reaction was different than that of Hannah’s. Tim was laughing so hard he was out of breath and bracing himself against the wall to keep from falling.

“What the hell is going on?” Dusty asked Tim.

Tim’s eyes widened, noticing his boss standing in the doorway of the operating room.

“Sorry, Dr. Warren, a dog got loose.”

“A dog?”

“A new patient. Hannah was just checking her in when—”

A blue-jeans-clad woman came charging around the same corner as the others and did not even hesitate as she rushed past both Dusty and Tim, following in the wake of Hannah and the dog.

A slight breeze of perfume floated on the air as she passed, but the woman was moving so fast Dusty barely saw her face. The snug fit of the jeans around her curvy hips would’ve been noticeable even in the dark.

“Who was that?” he asked Tim, who still hadn’t moved from his position on the opposite wall.

“That’s the dog’s owner.” Tim looked down the hall where the three had disappeared around the corner. “It’s Mikayla Shroeder.”

“The author?”

“In the flesh.” Tim nodded.

Dusty shook his head, trying to shake off his growing confusion. “Can you finish up here?” he called to Nurse Fran over his shoulder.

“No problem,” she called back.

Dusty let go of the swinging door, removed his latex gloves and went after the two women and the dog, motioning for Tim to follow.

Dusty thought about the large size of the animal that had rushed by earlier. “Is the dog dangerous?” he asked, taking long strides.

“No,” Tim answered a few steps behind him, “just ill-mannered. That thing she has in his mouth is Hannah’s new dress. She bought it for a party she’s going to tonight with her new boyfriend.”

Dusty glanced over his shoulder at his young caretaker, remembering that only recently he and Hannah had stopped dating.

“She had just taken it out of the bag to show some of us and then the phone rang.” Tim continued. “She laid it on the desk, and out of nowhere the dog grabbed it and took off.”

Dusty came around the corner. He stopped dead in his tracks, leaving Tim to put on his brakes to avoid running into the back of him. They were in the pen area and the other dogs locked in the cages were going crazy with the sudden infusion of activity around them.

Before Dusty were his receptionist, Hannah, and the dog’s owner, both flanking the dog. To be fair, the scruffy, mangy mutt barely qualified as a canine. The large dog had dirty, gold-colored, matted fur. She had the large, muscular build and square-shaped head of a Saint Bernard, but the pointed features and blue eyes of a husky. Independently, both were beautiful species of dogs, but combined in this two-hundred-pound monstrosity it seemed an abomination.

Watching the two women, its whole body vibrated with excitement. The dog stood in a wide-legged stance with a tattered red cloth clamped between its teeth, shining blue eyes looking for any small opportunity to escape.

In the cacophony of barks and howls, Dusty heard what sounded like a muffled cry and realized it was coming from his receptionist.

“Oh, what’s the use, it’s ruined!” Hannah’s shoulders slumped, her guard dropped, and the dog seized the opportunity, ducking between her legs only to be grabbed by the collar and tackled by Tim.

“I’m so sorry.” The other woman put her arms around Hannah’s shoulders, and Dusty found his eyes once again drawn to her fitted jeans. “I’ll replace it—today. Just tell me where you bought it and the size and I’ll pick up another today.”

“You can’t!” Hannah cried harder. “It was the last one, I found it on the clearance rack.”

Dusty glanced back to where the dog was wiggling and squirming to get free from Tim’s tight hold around its body. The animal’s legs were spread wide as it kicked and pawed in every direction. Tim hauled the animal over to an empty carry case and pushed her into it headfirst and latched the box closed.

Angel began to revolt, barking and scratching at the sides of the box. Hearing her pet’s cry for help, Mikayla left the young woman’s side and kneeled beside the box.

She attempted to comfort Angel with shushing noises. Seeing it was not working, she sighed. “Sorry, baby, but you brought this on yourself.”

Meanwhile, Tim had circled back around and replaced Mikayla, wrapping his arm around Hannah’s shoulder in an attempt to console her over the loss of her new dress.

Between the howling animals and the crying receptionist, Dusty had had enough. He walked over to the woman kneeling beside the cage and offered his hand to bring her to her feet. Mikayla accepted the helping hand, and as she stood she came eye-to-eye with the doctor.

Dusty forgot his train of thought. His staff, the barking dogs, everything fell away. All he could focus on were eyes the color of September’s fall leaves just as they began to turn that rich, deep brown. There was aged knowledge in those eyes that did not go with the beautiful, youthful face in which they were contained. She was what the elders called an old soul. A person wise beyond their years, and he was curious to know what had given such a beautiful young woman such sad eyes.

Feeling her tug, he realized he was still holding her hand and quickly released it.

He cleared his throat and put on his professional voice. “Hello, I’m Dr. Dusty Warren.” He introduced himself to the woman.

“Mikayla Shroeder.” She smiled. “Sorry to cause your staff so much trouble, but I guess you can see why we’re here.” She gestured to the dog. “This is Angel, and as you can see she is in desperate need of some training, and I was told you’re the best.”

Dusty smiled. “You’ve certainly come to the right place. Tim, please put the dog in room three.”

But Tim and Hannah had their heads bent together, talking in whispers. Rather than call him again, Dusty pushed the wheeled case himself. “This way.” He gestured for Mikayla to go ahead of him.

“I apologize again. I don’t know what got into her.” Mikayla was speaking over her shoulder as she moved back into the main hospital.

“Well, let’s go find out, shall we?” Dusty struggled to keep his head up and avoid looking at those form-fitting jeans and how they moved with her body.

“I think you may have accidentally done Tim a good service,” Dusty said, closing the door behind him. “That dress was for Hannah’s date with a new guy.”

“Aaahhh,” Mikayla said. “With Tim being the old guy, I presume?”

“Exactly.”

Dusty parked the case by the table, and Angel was sitting quietly inside, having accepted her temporary fate. Dusty reached over to the wall and took down a leash.

He opened the cage and hooked the leash to her collar before Angel even realized what he was doing. But once the collar was attached she began bouncing around inside. Even with her standing a few feet away, Dusty could feel the tension in Mikayla.

Once the dog was out of the cage and climbing all over Dusty, Mikayla released a breath she’d been holding.

“She likes you.” The slight surprise in Mikayla’s voice indicated that this was not typically the case.

Dusty pushed Angel back down on her bottom and began trying to examine her, while she continued to climb on him, attempting to put her paws over his shoulders. All of a sudden her busy motion stopped and she sat down on her rump, tail wagging, but beyond that she was calm.

Dusty looked at the dog and was surprised to see her just watching him in silence. “She seems in good health.”

After much resistance, he managed to get her mouth open and looked at her teeth. “What is she, about six? Six and a half?”

“I think so.”

He glanced at Mikayla and looked away. What a beauty, he thought, trying to keep his mind on the dog.

He knew about the author and motivational speaker, Mikayla Shroeder. Who didn’t? In fact, he’d read her first book a few years ago. He’d picked it up at the airport, just wanting something to read on the plane while traveling to a veterinarian conference in Portland, Oregon, not realizing at the time that it was Christian inspirational nonfiction. The book, Reclaiming Your Soul, had been a national bestseller within weeks of coming out, and launched the formerly unknown author into instant superstardom. That day in the airport, he had wanted to see what all the fuss was about. In fact, as far as he knew the book was still selling in record volumes.

Surprisingly, he’d enjoyed reading it at the time, but he had given little thought to the author, and what thought he’d given had not come anywhere close to the gorgeous, young woman standing in his office.

She’d only written the one book that he knew of, but nowadays you couldn’t turn on the radio without hearing a promotion for one of her upcoming seminars.

He’d assumed she was older. Much older. Why, he wasn’t sure, just something about the way she wrote spoke of a maturity beyond her years. He thought about the book he’d read and didn’t think there’d been an author photo along with the brief bio.

He was so occupied by his thoughts of Mikayla that what came next took him by surprise. Angel sprang at him in joyful delight, all two hundred pounds of her, and together they hit the floor with Dusty on the bottom.

Before he knew what had happened, Angel was standing on his chest, smiling down at him. She barked once, a loud, happy bark as if to declare she’d won.

“Angel!” Mikayla was pulling on the leash, trying to get the dog off him, but Dusty was more successful in just pushing her to the side and climbing to his feet. Except for a bruised ego, he was none the worse off.

“Bad girl!” Mikayla was scolding her, even as she petted her head. Dusty wondered if she understood how contradictory her actions were.

He dusted himself off. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“You’re disciplining her with words, but rewarding her with action.” He motioned to where her hand was running over the dog’s head. Angel’s tail wagged as she enjoyed the petting.

Mikayla looked down at her hand as if it had taken on a life of it’s own. “I hadn’t even realized it.” She snatched back her hand. “It’s just habit.”

Dusty glanced down at the dog who was once again sitting, this time at her master’s side, her tail still wagging happily.

Dusty thought he better lay down the ground rules now. He’d seen this before. People who could not bear the idea of being apart from their pets for any amount of time. Just watching her behavior with the dog, Dusty thought Mikayla Shroeder might be one of those people.

“Ms. Shroeder—”

“Mikayla.”

“Mikayla, you need to understand that my training methods are different from others. If I accept Angel as a client, she has to stay here with me.”

Her eyes widened. “For how long?”

“Eight weeks.”

“Eight weeks? Why so long?”

He braced his weight against the examination table and folded his arms across his chest. “What I do is less training and more deprogramming. I need to be her complete focus for a while. After two weeks, you can come visit her and then after that I need you to come in once a week for training.”

“What kind of training?” she asked.

“You have to understand that Angel is half the problem. You’re the other half. Your behavior toward her has to change as much as her behavior toward you.”

She glanced down at her dog, who gazed up at her with adoring eyes. “I don’t know about this. Eight weeks is a long time. We haven’t been separated that long, since…I just don’t know.”

Dusty caught the pause, but said nothing. Most people who came to him never went through with the program for this very reason. They did not want to be separated from their pet for such an extended amount of time. But separating them was the only way to get the dog’s complete attention, and getting the dog’s complete attention was the way to retrain them.

“I tell you what.” He walked over to her and took Angel’s leash. “How about I give you a tour of the hospital and training facility and then you make up your mind?”