Page 3 of Once Upon a Boyband
He gives me a generous side-eye that seems to say he’s makingnopromises, then follows me into the room.
Adam is sitting on the opposite side of the exam table, a wagon full of puppies directly beside him. He’s wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt, a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead. His beard looks a little longer than it was the last time he was here, but he’s just as handsome as always, and my heart picks up speed at the mere sight of him.
Adam may not be for me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the view.
The only thing better than tall, dark, and handsome is tall, dark, and handsome…with puppies.
Adam is currently holding two—a coal black one and another brown one with a white nose and white-tipped ears.
“Adam,” I say after clearing my throat and willing some degree of normalcy into my voice. “Good to see you.”
“Hi, Dr. Lawson,” he says, the rumble of his voice sending a shiver up my spine. “How are you?”
“Better now that you’ve brought me puppies.”
He stands and lowers the black one into my arms. It looks up at me with sleepy eyes and yawns.
“Oh, you’re perfect, aren’t you?” I say, holding the puppy close. “How’s the mama?”
“Healthy and well,” Adam says. “Everything with the delivery went great, and they’re all eating like champs.”
“Any adoptions lined up yet?” I ask as I move to the exam table with the first puppy.
“Several inquiries. We’re still reviewing applications.”
I nod, grateful that Adam requires a thorough application process before anyone can adopt any of his dogs. His rescue has only been in operation a little longer than I’ve been in Lawson Cove, and he can’t be much older than I am, though the beard makes it admittedly hard to tell. Either way, he must have done a lot of research because he runs Hope Acres like a seasoned pro.
“I’m sure they’ll go quickly once they’re old enough,” I say. “With these cute little faces, who wouldn’t want one?”
I’ve never asked Adam if he’s the one managing the Hope Acres website and the rescue’s social media presence, but whoever is in charge, they do an excellent job.
The website and Instagram account is updated weekly with professional-level photos and tons of videos of the dogs romping around acres and acres of gorgeous mountain farmland. Somehow, he manages to frame even theoldest, ugliest dogs in a way that makes them seem adoptable.
Much to my disappointment, Adam never shows his face in any of the content. But I’ve heard his voice in a few of the videos, so I know he has to be somewhat involved.
Not that I spend a lot of time on the rescue’s Instagram page. These are all just very casual observations made in my capacity as veterinarian for the rescue. It doesn’t have anything to do with the way his deep voice makes my skin hum with energy.
I quickly finish my exam of the solid black puppy, who is perfect in every way possible, and hand her back to Adam. “Three and a half pounds,” I say, looking over to make sure Percy is updating the chart. “What are we calling this one?”
“That’s Diana,” Adam says. “And the other three girls are Florence, Mary, and Betty.”
I lift my eyebrows, studying his face. “The Supremes?”
Something like admiration crosses over his features. “Good catch.”
“And the boys?” I swap Diana for the brown and white puppy Adam is still holding.
“George, Paul, John and Ringo.”
“Be still your music-loving heart,” Percy says under his breath, and I send an elbow into his ribs.
“I love the theme,” I say as I lift my stethoscope to the puppy’s chest. His heart sounds strong and healthy. “Which one are you?” I hold him up and look into his big brown eyes. “Are you George?”
“That’s Ringo,” Adam says.
The puppy leans forward and licks the tip of my nose, and my heart melts a little bit. “Percy, tell me I don’t need to adopt a puppy.”
“Laney, you definitely need to adopt a puppy,” Percy says.
