Page 22 of Clearly Charmed

‘There are several reasons why that can’t happen,’ he said with a heavy sigh.

Yeah, this was going to be way more than a ‘puff’ piece.

‘Dani, I’m going to be here a while. The article is for the summer issue so it won’t be due until the end of December.’

I gripped the steering wheel. Heaved in a full breath at the thought of having to avoid him for several months.

‘Please give me a chance. Google me. Read my work. You’ll see that I’m fair.’ He trained that deep blue gaze on me. ‘Meet me tomorrow. You can ask me any question about my writing. How I’m planning to approach the article.’ His pleading look was meant to soften me up, but I wasn’t buying it.

All that time in the clinic, he’d had every opportunity to confess who he was. To tell me the real reason he was in town, but he’d stayed quiet. Then there was that soul-melting kiss, which I thought was spontaneous, born out of a complicated mixture of fear and relief, but now it felt contrived. Another way to get me to let my guard down. The deceit and manipulation reminded me too much of Belladonna, and I refused to have one more person like her in my life.

‘Goodbye, Bryce.’

I shooed him away before yanking the door shut. His determined look warned he wasn’t giving up, but neither was I.

I’d spent a lifetime protecting my sisters from people who stared. Spoke in whispers about us. Bryce was just one more person to add to that list.

Chapter Eight

Tender Heart

As usual, Normie Jewel was at my door five minutes before the vaccination clinic was due to begin. His pitch-black cocker spaniel, Odie, chased his tail in a circle, and Normie struggled to hold tightly to his leash.

An electric zing slid over my skin as Odie clipped me with his back end.

‘What can I do for you this morning, Normie?’

He gave me that impish look like you tell me. ‘Need you to give Odie the once-over. He’s been scratching everywhere.’

This was Normie’s way of getting out of making an appointment or, you know, actually paying. He’d show up at the door only minutes before a clinic, claim I was working anyway, and beg that I take a few minutes to check out Odie. I’d let it go on for a while until Jessamine, my receptionist, told me that if I kept it up, every old timer with an aging dog would show up expecting treatment for free.

Bree, my vet tech, stepped out of an exam room with her arms full of puppy pads and boxes of sterile gloves. When she caught sight of Normie, she gave me a withering look, shook her head, her long dark-brown ponytail swinging like a pendulum behind her. She and Jessa were definitely in agreement about the situation.

I should have turned Normie away. Ordered him to make an appointment for another day, but poor Odie kept scratching his right ear.

‘Bring him into Exam Room Two.’

When we walked past Bree, she quietly griped about my tender heart.

It was true. I hated to see an animal in pain.

The thought sent me back to my argument with Mo yesterday. I could explain it over and over until all the air was gone from my lungs, and still no one in Harvest Moon would get it through their thick skulls that what I had was not magic. It was exactly what Bree was mumbling about. A tender heart. A certain intuition and connection to animals. A quick eye for spotting and sensing symptoms. It was part skill, but also years of education and training.

Normie settled Odie on the steel table, and I spent the next twenty minutes cleaning out a month’s worth of infected, crusty yellowish-brown gunk from the dog’s ears.

Bree paced outside the exam room. Flora bounced happily beside her like it was some sort of game. More than once, Bree gave Normie less than kind looks as the waiting area filled up for the clinic. When I was done, I set Odie down and let Normie clip on his leash.

‘I have your info in the system, Normie. You’ll be getting a bill for today.’

He started to sputter on about the special clinic, how we were open anyways, until Jessa appeared and escorted him to the front desk.

For the next five hours, Bree assisted me as I gave shots for everything from kennel cough to parvo, distemper and feline calicivirus. We chatted with both locals and people who came from as far away as Silverton. Because most of the animals were young, there wasn’t much of a chance for that zap of dizziness to crawl up my spine.

When our final puppy, a French bulldog, aptly named Pierre, was carried off by his owner, I collapsed into the small gray loveseat next to the front desk. Jessa rushed past me and locked the door. Flora melted onto her favorite fluffy dog bed in the corner of the waiting area. Being an emotional support dog was rough work too.

‘What was our count today?’ I said through an exhausted yawn.

‘Thirty-nine dogs and twenty-three cats,’ Bree answered, taking the seat beside me. ‘And before you ask, we are up ten animals from last month. That email to shelters across the counties, advertising the clinic, is working,’ she said, way too pleased with herself, considering the email was her suggestion.