Page 30 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

“Just...” She twists her shirt between her fingers.

“Emily.” My voice drops as I grab her chin. Her skin’s so soft it’s ridiculous. “Tell me what Amelia meant.” I let go fast, backing up when I realize how out of line that was.

“Fine.” She closes her eyes, trembling.

My body reacts instantly, blood heading south. I want to kiss her so bad I can taste it. No. Bad idea. Terrible idea.

Valerie’s face hits me like a punch. Her laugh, her big plans, all that life snuffed out too early. After her, I swore off young women with futures. Too damn risky for them, not me. I’m damaged goods and know it.

“Well?” My voice cracks like I’m thirteen again. I clear my throat twice.

“She asked what I did on the weekend,” she blurts. “I told her I went out and got wasted, and then I might’ve said I need a few drinks to deal with working here.” She bites her lip. “But I swear, I was only joking!”

“Right. Let me know when patients show up.” I escape to my office, slamming the door behind me. Does she need to get drunk to stand working with me? Shouldn’t care what she thinks, but fuck, it digs under my skin.

I drop into my chair and drag my hands through my hair. Why does it matter so much? I don’t need some girl ten years younger than me. Age matters. Twentysomething still believes in fairy tales, Prince Charming, true love, and happily ever after. They figure out later it’s all crap. Life’s no Disney movie.

Valerie taught me that lesson when she died. Three years together. I thought we had forever. Her heart seemed fine until the pregnancy. That middle-of-the-night call. The drive to the hospital with my heart in my throat. The doctor’s face told me everything before he said a word. Both gone, Valerie and my son.

After the funeral, I promised myself never again. No more bright-eyed girls with futures. No more gambling with someone else’s life, just so I’m not alone.

I’ve settled for hookups and good times. No strings, no hearts on the line. That’s all I do now. No relationships, no bullshit love talk. The last thing I need is some mouthy twenty-two-year-old who’s barely started living.

I force myself to focus on today’s files. When I’m halfway through the paperwork, screams explode from the waiting room.

“What the hell?” I bolt for the door.

“I told you we don’t do that here!”

I burst into the waiting room to find my receptionist facing off with a client. Her finger jabs into the woman’s chest. All five-foot-nothing of Emily squared up against someone who towers over her by at least eight inches. Her face is flushed.

The others waiting are watching like it’s better than Netflix.

“What the hell is going on?” My voice booms.

Both women whip around. The client looks relieved, while Emily is still blazing with anger.

“Dr. Price!” squeaks Blondie in her fancy suit with her perfect nails, perfect hair, perfect teeth. “This horrible girl has been nothing but rude! I demand you do something!” She grabs my arm as though I’m her personal bodyguard. Her perfume’s so strong my eyes water.

In my short time knowing Emily, she’s never been anything but professional with clients. Sometimes awkward, often blunt, but always cordial.

“Emily?” I give her a stern look. “Care to explain?”

Instead of backing down, she crosses her arms and lifts her chin as though she’s ready for war. The lights catch those gold flecks in her eyes, making them burn brighter. “The lady,” she practically spits, “needs to find another clinic. I was just helping her locate the exit.”

“Emily,” I growl, getting pissed.

“Logan,” she throws back, mocking my tone. Behind her tough act, I catch a flash of hurt. Makes me regret snapping at her.

“See?” the woman shrieks as her nails dig into my arm through my coat. “She’s completely out of line! No respect! You need to fire her immediately!”

Something protective surges through me. Even if Emily is a pain in the ass, nobody talks to my staff that way.

“Ma’am—”

Emily explodes. “She’s the problem! People like her shouldn’t have pets! She’s a monster! A witch! A bit?—”

“Enough.” I peel the woman’s hand off my arm and turn to her. “Ma’am, you need to leave.” Her mouth opens, but I cut her off. “Don’t know what happened yet, but I trust Miss Baker. If she says you’re bad news for pets, I’m listening. Take your cat and go, Ms...”

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