Paws off the Boss, Casey Griffin [ereader for textbooks TXT] 📗

walk to the center had been a long one, especially after giving a statement to the cops and calling her boss at the taxi company so he could fire her—she didn’t see the point in showing up in person, since she had no taxi to return and no change of clothes. And no matter what Dominic said, she didn’t think the cowgirl costume would have saved her job.

To top it all off, when she’d said goodbye to Aiden Caldwell, he’d given her a handshake. A handshake. Not that she expected something else … or wanted anything, for that matter. Because that would have been silly. They’d just met. And he was totally not her type. But a handshake? Ouch. Maybe she wasn’t his type. Double ouch. Then again, it didn’t matter because she didn’t care. Right?

Before she could replay the scene in her head, yet again, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the reception room. “That feels much better,” she said.

Her friend Addison sat on the back counter while she fed the goldfish. Sprinkling food over the water, she assessed Piper’s makeover.

“Looks good. Now maybe people won’t throw money at you like you’re stripping for them.”

“One guy. It was one guy on the walk here. And coins hurt more than you’d think.” Piper leaned against the counter and watched the fish dart around the rectangular tank as they gobbled up the bits of food. “The ladies are hungry today.”

Since they were veiltail goldfish, Piper thought they looked like elegant ladies with their orange-and-white chiffon ball gowns floating behind them. The image fit since they belonged to the older Englishwoman, Marilyn, who managed the rescue center. She was rather stately herself. Or perhaps her posh accent gave that impression. That and the fact that the only other English people Piper knew were the stereotypes found in movies.

Zoe strolled out of the little kitchen, carrying a jug that sloshed with water. When she noticed Piper had changed, she gave her a wink. “Lookin’ good, Pipe.”

“Thanks for coming in to cover for me while I talked to the cops,” Piper said. “And thanks for bringing the clothes. I didn’t feel like cleaning out dog enclosures in my soaking-wet telegram costume.”

“No problem,” Zoe said, watering the peace lily on the desk. “That’s the nice thing about running your own business. When you want a day off, you get to tell the boss to shove it.”

Piper picked up the tiny pieces of her cowgirl costume from the bathroom floor. Since they were at the center, Colin thought it was time to play and started chewing on the tassels, yanking the shirt from her grip in a game of tug-of-war.

“Colin, no.” She swiped the costume out of his reach and balled it up. “Out of all the jobs I lost today, why did I have to keep the one with the worst uniform?”

“That’s true,” Zoe said. “But I’m sure it was exactly what that hot businessman wanted to see you in. Not a greasy pizza delivery shirt.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter what Aiden Caldwell wants.” Piper chucked the pleather and tassels into a plastic bag to take home. “Because I won’t be seeing him again.” Not that she had a choice in the matter. Not that I care, she added to herself.

Addison slid off the counter. “So, that was it? You guys talked to the cops and left? You didn’t exchange numbers with this guy?”

“What for? I sexually assaulted and embarrassed him in front of his employees, I lost not one but two jobs, proving myself to be a complete and utter flake, and he watched me lose the car. A whole car. Not to mention his briefcase. And, through it all, I was dressed like a country porn star. Why would that man ever want to see me again?”

Zoe stopped watering the ficus and stared at her like “duh.” “Because you were dressed like a country porn star?”

“It’s only sexual assault if he didn’t want it.” Addison gave her a devilish grin. “I mean, he did follow you out of the office to talk to you. Maybe because he liked you.”

“Maybe because he wanted more.” Zoe leaned on the desk, eager for gossip as always. “Was it any good? I mean, did you get a good feel?” She made suggestive squeezing motions with her hands.

Piper swiped away Zoe’s rude gesture, giggling. “You two are unbelievable. Besides, the man is, I dunno, too rich and privileged. What would I ever have in common with him?”

She thought about her brother, Ethan, and how little she’d had in common with him ever since he’d “made something of himself”—more like made an ass of himself, she thought. For all she knew, Aiden was just like him, with his designer suits and businesslike handshakes. Heck, Aiden probably drove a BMW like Ethan.

Addison shook her finger. “You sound like Elizabeth Bennet.”

Piper’s forehead wrinkled. “Who?”

“You know, from Pride and Prejudice. Throughout the whole movie, she refuses to see how perfect Mr. Darcy is for her because she’s too proud.” Addison tapped her chin, thinking. “Or is she prejudiced?”

“Proud? What do I have to be proud of?” Piper opened one of the cupboards and grabbed a few dog brushes. She tossed one each to Addison and Zoe. “Today wasn’t exactly my shining moment, you know.”

Not hearing a word she’d said, Addison clapped her hands and exhaled dreamily, already planning their wedding in her head. “He’s your Mr. Darcy.”

Rolling her eyes, Piper yanked open the door to the back room. The chorus of hellos was overwhelming. At least, it sounded like “hello” to Piper since all the dogs perked up and pressed their wet noses to their kennel doors, tails wagging.

Most of their four-legged friends were, of course, dachshunds. Marilyn, the manager, was passionate about taking in stray and sick doxies. But any dog lover knows you can’t pick just one breed. It would be like saying you only liked salted chocolate-covered caramels or dark-chocolate cherry truffles. Sure, you had your favorite. But chocolate was chocolate. There was something to appreciate about every different kind.

Colin trotted down the long passageway lined with enclosures, strutting ahead of the three volunteers like they were his entourage. The enclosures were stacked two high, spacious enough for your average dog to walk around in, but for the bigger breeds there were more sizable pens in the back. The corridor ended at a T-shaped intersection. More kennels lined the way to the outdoor courtyard on one end, and on the other was the makeshift exam room.

It was nowhere near as well-equipped as a vet’s office, but it did the trick when a dog needed a quick inspection. For anything serious—broken bones, kennel cough, heart issues—they took the dog to a real vet. A vet who charged real money. One time they’d paid for Picasso, a doxie with intervertebral disc disease, to have surgery. Marilyn had taken him home for months of rehabilitation. Needless to say, he was living with her permanently now since she couldn’t part with him once he had healed.

That was why the center was one of the poorest in town. Marilyn and her volunteers elected to treat more of the “hopeless” cases that other shelters would choose to euthanize. They did their best to treat and nurse the little fur balls back to health. At the dachshund rescue center, they reserved the dreaded “E” word for the absolute last resort, like if the dog were terminally ill and suffering. The volunteers stockpiled tissues for those days.

Piper clenched the brush in her hand until the handle cracked. She turned her back on the exam room. Sure, it would be part of her job one day as a veterinarian, but that was why it was so important to become a vet: to educate people and to give a voice to the animals so that they could live long, happy lives in the best health possible.

She made her way to the end of the hall. When a long-haired red dachshund came into view, Colin shot across the room to the kennel door like a black torpedo, toenails skittering on the concrete floor. He pawed at the door.

Piper laughed and unlatched the enclosure. “Hi, Sophie.”

She’d barely opened it before the two doxies were all over each other, gnawing on ears and necks.

“Come on, you two. It’s been twenty-four hours and you act like you haven’t seen each other in a month.”

“It’s lov-v-ve.” Addison drew out the word like it was a warm, gooey thing. “It’s like when you meet a guy and no matter how often you see each other or text or phone, you can’t wait to see him again.”

“That’s not love,” Zoe said. “That’s infatuation. And the best way to get over him is to get under him.”

“Zoe,” Addison chided her.

“It’s true.” She shrugged. “Get it over with and move on. I’m a busy woman. I don’t like to waste my time.”

Addison’s bangs shifted as she blew out a breath, but she didn’t bother arguing. Her idealistic views on romance were practically Disney-trademarked, so she and Zoe rarely agreed on the subject of relationships. Or Zoe’s lack thereof. The most intimate relationship Zoe had was with her vibrators. And since she sold tasteful sex toys with her side business, Pure Pleasure Parties, she had plenty to choose from.

Piper thought Addison was right, though. The doxies were deeply in love—even if they couldn’t consummate the relationship, because they were both fixed. They had a deeper connection. A spiritual one.

Trying to separate the two, Piper brushed Sophie while Colin chomped on the handle like a chew toy. Zoe watched, laughing, but she had her own hands full with a horny German shepherd who wanted to hump her leg more than he wanted grooming.

“Whoa, Toby. Heel,” she said. “You’re a little hairy for my taste.”

But Toby couldn’t hear her over his lust. Out of the three women, he preferred Zoe with her much longer, leaner legs since there was so much more to hump.

Addison opened the kennel of a chocolate dachshund and scooped him out. His short, dappled fur was patchy and missing on