Page 24 of Key Lime Kisses
“I guess I need to check my voicemail more often,” he groaned. “If it's not the clinic or one of my clients calling, I pretty much don't answer.”
“So, I should text you?” I joked, hoping to lighten the mood.
It worked; Weston chuckled a little. “Don’t worry, I programed your number already. I’ll answer if you call.”
I grinned and then noticed the animal clinic outside the window. “Speaking of your clients, that’s it, right?”
“That's it,” Weston said. He leaned over a little and I could see his eyes roving the parking lot.
“Do you need to stop in?”
“No,” he said. “I'm just looking at the cars to figure out who's there.”
I nodded and continued on. Soon we were pulling into the driveway in front of my little house.
“Oh, this is so cute,” Weston said, getting out. “I don't know what I was picturing, but this is so you!”
I smiled and flushed; I wasn't sure if I was more pleased that all the work I had been putting in was paying off or the fact that I was actually dating an alpha who appreciated it rather than acting emasculated by it.
“Thanks.”
Weston repeated the sentiments once we were inside. To my embarrassment, my house smelled gross and stale; I had probably left food out, assuming I’d be back in hours, not days.
“I need to use the bathroom,” we said at the same time. We both laughed.
“I’ll go upstairs,” I told him. “There’s one down the hall there, on the left.”
I jogged up the stairs to my bedroom, checking the thermostat as I went. It was quite cold. I nudged it up a couple degrees, then went about my business. When I was done I went into my bedroom and looked around, trying to decide if I should make a guest bed or just let Weston sleep with me. We were dating after all, but this seemed a little bit different than being forced into sharing a bed like we had been on the ship.
“You didn't tell me you have a dog!” Weston called happily from downstairs.
“What?” I said, confused by the statement.
“What a sweetheart! What's her name?”
I went back into the hall and started down the stairs, frowning. “I don’t have a dog.”
“I’m a vet,” Weston laughed. “I think I know a dog when I see one. Shepard mix?”
“I don’t have a…” I trailed off as I rounded the corner and found Weston sitting on the floor of my living room petting a dog. “…dog.”
Weston took one look at my face, then looked back at the dog, then back to me. “Youdon’thave a dog?” he repeated skeptically.
I gaped at the pair. “I’ve never seen that dog before in my life! Where did it come from?!”
“She came out of the kitchen like she owned the place,” Weston said, looking nearly as confused as I was.
“I don't have a dog,” I repeated. I looked beyond them into the kitchen and saw that my trash can had been knocked over and the contents spread everywhere. I also spotted a big pile of crap. “Oh great, she pooped in here.”
“The smell is nearly gone,” Weston said. He gave the dog one last pat, then walked over to the pile. “It doesn’t look fresh either. Poor thing has been in here a while. No collar, either.”
“What do we do?” I asked, suddenly incredibly thankful the man I was now dating was a veterinarian.
“Well,” he said, kneeling next to the dog. “I can take her back to the clinic and scan her for a microchip. If she has one, we're good. If not… we'll go from there. She seems like she's healthy though. Aside from being stuck in your house for a few…” He trailed off, narrowed his eyes, and started feeling around under her stomach.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
“She's either pregnant or just had puppies,” Weston said, sounding concerned.
