by Amy Lane
“I’ll be by later?” Sandy said, rubbing Freckles delicately between the eyes with his finger.
“Yeah.” Carter kept his eyes on Freckles—but his words were for Sandy. “I’ll have dinner ready for you, okay?”
“Yeah.” Sandy kissed his cheek, and Carter waved shyly at the girls and turned and left.
“So,” Melissa said meaningfully, “I take it all your hoping paid off.”
Sandy grinned, all teeth. “And some assertive dating,” he conceded. “And some behavior management as well.” He’d caught Carter overthinking their next move, or how quickly they’d already moved, or what Christmas would be like, or when he could quit his job. Sandy had kissed a lot of anxiety out of Carter that weekend—but so far, it hadn’t been a hardship.
“Were you training him like a puppy?” Cedar asked, charmed. “Because my boyfriend could so use some puppy training. Did you smack him on the nose with newspaper? Spritz his face? Because I wonder if that works.”
“Right?” Melissa nodded with some serious enthusiasm. “Like when they leave their dirty socks on the living room floor—can we just keep the water bottle for that alone?”
The tip of Sandy’s ears got hot as he remembered Carter picking up his socks from that very place.
“Well, maybe some behavioral management on both sides,” he admitted. And they were going to do more of it that night. And more, until Christmas. “We’re going to see if it takes.”
“Just don’t crap on his floor and I think he’ll be able to live with you,” Tommy said dryly, and then turned to his next customer.
Cedar twinkled mischievously at Sandy. “You wouldn’t crap on that nice man’s floor, would you, Sandy?”
Sandy grimaced. “Nope. The dog’s doing enough of that already.”
“Crate training!” Doc Marty called from down the hall, and the three vet techs jumped and started cleaning up for the evening.
“You look happy,” Brenda said between mouthfuls. Carter had brought her sandwiches for lunch, since Sandy seemed to like them so much, and they were chatting in the break room.
“My dog is fixed, and Sandy is coming over for the weekend,” Carter replied. He was happy. “And a nice couple wants me to represent them in court.” He smiled a little sheepishly, but Brenda perked up.
“Seriously? You’re going to brave court?”
“Well, they didn’t want anyone else to represent them.” He shrugged. “And they have a friend who’s coming by this Friday.”
“So what’s that? Your second client?”
Carter bit his lip, trying not to smile outlandishly. “Third—Alexis brought me someone else on Wednesday. I had no idea pet law was such a big deal.” His face fell. “I just wish I’d known in time to help the Clayburghs.”
They’d dropped their case. He hated that. It was a failure he’d have to live with for the rest of his life. He thought of Freckles, all happy on her little cushion, and wished he’d found her sooner.
“If it makes you feel better, on their way out, they told me they got two new Labrador puppies. And that they had all their friends blackball Hausen/Hufsen on Yelp. Apparently the guy’s lost some money in business, so that’s something.”
Carter’s laugh was low and evil, but Brenda didn’t look surprised. Apparently your friends and your boyfriend knew when you weren’t always a perfect person and accepted you for that.
“Hey, Embree!” Jacobsen stood at the door to the break room and gestured him imperiously over.
Carter looked at his sandwich and said, “Come on in, Marc—I was just taking my lunch break.”
He couldn’t make eye contact with Brenda—he knew they’d both crack up. But seriously, what a douche!
“Brenda, don’t you have something to do?” Marc sneered, and Carter shook his head infinitesimally.
“Yeah, eat her lunch. We just sat down. What’s so urgent it can’t wait?”
“I have another case for you.” Marc walked into the break room like it was beneath him.
“Well then, alert the presses and we must all cease our normal activities,” Brenda said, and Carter tried not to let his eyes bulge.
“Don’t be too comfy in your job,” Marc snapped, and Carter glared at him.
“Sarcasm doesn’t violate her employee handbook, Marc. Seriously—what’s so earth-shattering we can’t eat like human beings?”
“We caught a new client—another dog case, since you’re such a bleeding heart over them.” Jacobsen’s sneer contorted his normally handsome face, and Carter felt iron in his spine. Oh God—that thing really did exist. “Some dumb-shit let his dog eat poisoned dirt and is trying to sue the guy next door.”
Carter would have thought his newfound spine would have buckled—but it didn’t. It might have been because he’d already drawn up papers and filed the motion, but it was more than that.
It was that the Burkes trusted him. The Burkes trusted him, and he’d already let the Clayburghs down, and this was his chance not to fail like that again.
“Is this the Burkes case?” Carter asked, taking a bite of his sandwich and making Marc wait on him. “Because you didn’t look at the original motion close enough. I filed that.”
“You took a case for this firm—”
“No. This was my own case.” Carter smiled sunnily at Jacobsen, just as innocent as a lamb. “My contract says I can do side work, Marc. I took them as a client.”
“Well fob them off on someone else!” His broad, businessman’s face was getting red and blotchy. Carter was enjoying this moment more than was probably decent.
“No,” he said, taking another bite of sandwich. “And anything you do against me—or Brenda—right now would be considered retaliatory.”
“What’s that mean?” Jacobsen growled.
“It means you can’t make me.”
Brenda choked on a snort, and Carter winked at her to let her know he wouldn’t leave her swinging if this went south.
“Fucking grow up, Embree. I’ll make you fucking wish you’d euthanized that dog yourself!” Jacobsen stalked out of the break room, and Carter and Brenda locked eyes, both of them counting as his footsteps disappeared down the hall.
At ten, they breathed a sigh of relief.
“Carter,” Brenda whispered, “that was amazing! What do you think he’ll do?”
Carter grimaced. “Well, first he’s going to comb through my contract—which is airtight. Then he’s going to comb through yours, which is also airtight, since I drew up the employee contracts and he just sort of rubber-stamped them. He can’t fire you because you were sitting near me. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be a big, mean baby about it for a while.”
Brenda nodded, and they both shuddered, because that could be just about as awful as the confrontation they’d just had.
“Did his client really poison a dog?” Brenda asked, horrified.
“He dumped antifreeze along the fence line and refused to clean it up. By the time they realized he’d poisoned their yard, their dog was dead. They’re going to have a kid in five months—someone needs to speak for them.”
Brenda was looking at him like he was a hero. “Oh, Carter. I’m so proud to work for you!”
Carter smiled and blushed. “Really?”
“Oh yes! I’d rather get fired next to you than work for that asshole any day.”
He hadn’t wanted to tell her about his hopes for the future, about maybe starting a firm of his own, one dedicated to pet advocacy. It sounded so pie-in-the-sky right now, when he was talking to a woman who had three kids and a husband and a mortgage.
But maybe Brenda needed some light at the end of her tunnel just like Carter had needed for the end of his.
“You know, if I ever get enough clients to quit,” he said, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the last half of his sandwich, “I’m going to need someone who can organize my ass from a hole in the ground.”
The sound she made was so surprising he actually looked up.
She was crying, wiping her bare face off with the back of her hand.
“Really?” she asked, and he reached over for a napkin from the dispenser. “You’d ask me to help you do that?”
“It might not be as good a job as this one.” He handed her the napkin. “But yeah. I couldn’t think of doing it without you.”
Brenda took the napkin, wiped under her eyes, and then blew her nose with surprising daintiness. “Carter, I would work for unbelievably little just so I didn’t have to work here.”
“We could have a small office,” Carter said. “We could decorate.”
Brenda smiled at him beatifically, and he remembered his weekend, his time spent with another man getting to know him, decorating for the holidays—hoping for a better future.
Hey, Sandy—I’m a hero!
Of course he couldn’t be Sandy’s hero that night, or the night after. Sandy was stuck in the middle of finals, and Carter wouldn’t interfere with his study schedule for the world.
And by the time the weekend rolled around, Jacobsen had made Carter’s and Brenda’s life so awful, Carter didn’t even want to think about the situation, much less burden Sandy with it.
In four days, Jacobsen had managed to double Carter’s workload with artificial deadlines that could easily have been combined with someone else’s work. It was a petty torment, and Carter easily completed the work by bringing the files home the two days Sandy wasn’t able to come over.
By Friday, Jacobsen had invented an “all billable hours must be accomplished on the premises” policy.
“What are we going to do?” Brenda asked sotto voce.
“Work through lunch and clock out at six,” Carter said grimly. “Most of this is bullshit busy work—I have the forms in my laptop, I can fill most of them out from home.”
“But, Carter, you’ll be working for free!”
Carter’s lips twisted. “He’ll get over himself soon enough. Think about it, Brenda—it’s taking him more time to come up with the bullshit than it will for me to cope with it. He’s not that industrious. He’ll give up.”
Carter was both right and wrong.
“Carter?” Sandy prompted—possibly for the third time. Friday night—their vowed-upon date night in their second week of dating—and Carter was falling asleep on the couch.
“Sorry,” he yawned. “Extra stuff at work.”
“Important?” Sandy asked, concerned.
Carter shook his head. “Not at all.” He smiled. “So, what were you saying again? You and Alexis thought it would be a good idea to . . .”
Carter was in his arms again, feeling loved and sort of cherished. And, yes, a little bit sleepy.
“Well, we’re still having Christmas here, and the tree . . .” Sandy winced. It had been shedding over Carter’s carpet nonstop, but Carter hadn’t minded.
Yeah. “And Freckles,” Carter supplied dryly.
“Anyway—most of these people are mine. How about I clean up the day before Christmas Eve?”
Carter turned his head and feathered a touch down Sandy’s cheek. So considerate—and so tired. “Aren’t you supposed to be catching up on your sleep?” He remembered his own finals—they hadn’t been a picnic, and he hadn’t been working full-time like Sandy.
“I’ll have had a whole week by then,” Sandy laughed. “Anyway, just leave the housecleaning to me.”
“Sure,” Carter said. He didn’t mind cleaning house himself, actually, but it was just nice, that was all. To have someone who cared enough to do something simple. Carter was starting to wonder if he’d ever had a decent relationship ever—especially because to Sandy this seemed to come naturally. “That’s kind.”
Sandy laughed, the sound a wee bit dirty. “Did I wake you up?”
“Yes,” Carter said, feeling a blush steal up his neck.
“Then it was entirely self-centered on my part.”
Carter turned just enough in his arms for Sandy’s kiss to land. Then he put Freckles down gently, so it could do more than land; it could take root and grow.
So he didn’t really have a need to tell Sandy about the petty bullshit torture—and he was right. It let up by Tuesday of the next week. The Burkes’ friends turned out to have a case, and they referred a couple of friends, and then two more came because of word of mouth.
By the day before Christmas Eve, when the office mostly just ate and exchanged gifts, Carter had seven clients.
Which was maybe not enough to prompt random acts of bravery, but that didn’t even occur to Carter until later.
“Aw, Brenda!” He looked fondly at his Christmas present. He’d given her a big fruit basket, with enough chocolate to sink a ship. He assumed her whole family would enjoy it, and he thought that would be the best kind of present for someone whose family was her life.
Brenda, on the other hand, had given Carter the perfect gift for someone whose dog was his life.
“You blew this up from the text I sent you?”
Brenda grinned. “Yup. But the goofy frame was all my kids’ idea.”
Carter looked at the picture of Freckles, blown up from that day Sandy had come over to study, and felt a little mushy inside. She was so tiny! Not that she weighed fifty pounds now, but she’d been less than two pounds! She’d been three pounds by the time she’d gone in for surgery.
It was like his dog was growing as fast as his heart—and his life.
“It’s perfect,” Carter said. There were no Christmas decorations allowed in the firm, but the frame itself was painted like a candy cane, with puppy dogs running along the borders. Carter took a moment and imagined a lot of frames like this, some seasonal, some not, and some with Sandy in them, all stacked around his desk.
It would be the desk of someone with a full life.
He liked that.
He hugged Brenda hard. “Here—let me put it on my desk and I’ll come back and have some cookies.” She’d brought them for the whole office, but she’d saved some of the frosted sugar ones for him, because he had missed out on refined sugar as a kid, and she pandered to that.
He’d had time to walk across the office, set the picture in its place, and walk back.
Jacobsen had apparently been waiting for him to let his guard down.
“Hey, Embree,” he called from Carter’s desk as Carter took his first bite of refined sugar and fat. “I told you: no decorations in the office.”
And then he picked up the picture and held it from the length of his arm before dropping it into the trash can.
Carter’s vision went a little red after that. Brenda had to tell him what he said next.
The day before Christmas Eve, Sandy didn’t just clean Carter’s house—he cleaned Carter’s carpets. Because he wasn’t going to change Carter’s mind about the crate training, and the dog was still pooping places not the pee pads, and the Christmas tree Sandy and Alexis had begged for and helped decorate was shedding, and because Sandy was going to drag his entire family to Carter’s house and for once have a family Christmas. He and Rick had gone to Hawaii during their three Christmases together—this was so much more special than even Carter knew.
He had just paid the guy who’d wielded the wet-dry vac, and was going to take Freckles for her walk (which was how he’d gotten Alexis to make him a copy of her key) when Carter got home, surprised.
“Sandy?”
“Hey! Yeah! Merry Christmas!”
Carter looked around and sniffed, seeming a little dazed. “Tangerine?”
“Yeah. I, uh, hope it’s okay.”
“No, no, you said you were going to clean but . . .” Carter’s expression seemed to be set on permanent “bemused,” and Sandy worried a little.
“Well yeah, but I’m dragging my family here for Christmas, and my books were taking up the living room, and the tree was shedding over the tree skirt. I just wanted to clean up for you, so you didn’t have to worry.”
The smile on Carter’s face said Sandy was sort of a superhero again,
and Sandy could live with that.
“You like?” Sandy asked, still anxious.
“It’s awesome.” Carter nodded. Then his face fell. “Uh, I was going to walk the dog. I haven’t been able to come during lunch for a while, so, uh, is that okay?”
“My idea too—I’ll come with you.”
Carter held the lead, and they walked side by side in the foggy December day. Most of the lawns were the hyper-green that suggested they were growing with the seasonal moisture and weren’t watered and tended, and there were dead and wet leaves wadded on the sidewalks. Typical Fair Oaks winter day, actually, but Sandy somehow felt the oppression more with whatever was weighing Carter down.
“What’s up?” Sandy asked as they rounded the corner onto a block of older houses, most of which backed up against horse property or even wild, tree-strewn creek areas. If they kept walking, they’d end up down by Sailor Bar, a bank of the American River. “Are you home early? I never asked—didn’t you have work today?”
“Sort of,” Carter said, voice still low and thoughtful. “We exchanged gifts. My paralegal gave me a picture of Freckles to put on my desk.”
“That’s nice,” Sandy said, glad Carter had friends at work.
“My boss walked by my desk and threw it in the trash. It broke.”
“What a douche bag!” Sandy gasped, stopping in the middle of the street. “Carter, that’s heinous!”
“He wanted me to take the case of that guy the Burkes are suing,” Carter explained. “I told him I couldn’t because I was working for the plaintiff, and he’s been shitty ever since.”
Sandy had not known this—which was sort of typical of Carter, who had been so obviously trying not to complain about work for the last couple of weeks. “What did you do?” Sandy asked, still dumbfounded. Jesus—Sandy would have decked the guy.
“Do?” Carter pulled off on a wide expanse of untended lawn and let Freckles sniff around. “I honestly can’t remember. Brenda had to tell me afterward, when we were carrying our stuff out to our cars.”
“You got fired?” Sandy asked, wide-eyed. Carter seemed to be taking this well.
