by Jenna Gunn
The Neighbor Wars
A Small Town Military Protector Romance
Jenna Gunn
Jenna Gunn
The Neighbor Wars
“I started reading it and I could not put it down!” Reviewer
Why do the only two bachelors in this small town have to be TROUBLE? How did I attract both of them? And now they have the nerve to think they can boss me around?
I thought the arrogant Soldier neighbor was a pill until he came to my rescue when I attracted a stalker.
Can you say C.R.A.Z.Y?
As a veterinarian I understood animal psychology, men however...
What started as me being a good samaritan went all sideways.
Rescuing my neighbor's dog turned into a ruckus.
Oh he might be a soldier, but I am not playing by his rules of engagement.
One minute I was sure I couldn't stand him, but then...
He caught me off guard.
Showed up when I needed to be saved.
And won his way into my bed, and maybe my heart.
He might have come to my rescue,
But turns out it's a two way street.
He needed to be rescued just as much as me.
Can I show him that he's more than enough man for me?
Will he be able to let down his guard?
The Neighbor Wars is a steamy contemporary love triangle, neighbor, military, pet lover's romance. When emotionally and physically traumatized recently discharged veteran Perry Logan moves to town he makes sparks fly with his neighbor Trisha- the good kind of sparks and the bad kind. As he struggles to make his way after an amputation he finds life in his new home town has lots of unexpected twists and turns. Trisha is strong and sassy, but finds herself tangled up with two of the town's bachelors. Don't worry though, this is a happily ever after, stand alone book. This is book 3 in the Everything for Love Series by Jenna Gunn.
Trigger Warning- This book contains subjects that could be triggering for some people: PTSD, Amputation, a Stalker and a fight scene between two men.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Jenna Gunn
1
It was my morning to sleep in, but my eyes snap open at the sound of a barking dog. It’s a rude sound.
Not that it is unusual for me to hear barking. I’m a Veterinarian, so barking is part of my life at the office, but not at home. On rare occasions I’ve heard distant howling from hunting dogs in the woods behind my house. But this isn’t distant. It sounds like it’s coming from my front porch.
I sit up. It’s humid; I can feel my hair frizzing already. The barking continues. It’s definitely a dog, not a coyote or wolf, and it sounds friendly, playful. Nevertheless, I grab a broom before I head toward my front door.
My old farmhouse is pretty big. I got it cheap from an older couple who were moving down to Florida. It’s pre-Civil War, that the couple updated in the eighties. They were adorable and very excited to be moving. Proudly they showed me the property. “Used to be a barn out there,” the wife told me as she showed me the expansive backyard. I remember being in love with the house instantly, despite all the work it needed.
Now, as I head down the narrow stairs, I curse the creaks that I haven’t worked out yet; the dog outside hears them and falls silent.
I glide over the wooden floor to the window of my front door and peek out. Sure enough, there’s a dog - a puppy, maybe - standing on my front porch, head cocked so far to the side it’s in danger of falling off, still as a stone.
I reach for the doorknob cautiously. The dog’s tail starts wagging. Up high - good. This is a friendly dog.
I open the door carefully, and the dog explodes into a fit of barking before taking off down my porch steps and zooming around my yard in a wide circle.
This dog has so much energy. It runs a few laps before running back up my porch and stopping in front of me, tail still wagging eagerly and flinging mud all over. It’s filthy. I know it rained last night - I fell asleep to the sound of it - and by the looks of it, this dog was out in it for hours.
“Okay,” I sigh. “Follow me.”
The dog’s ears perk up. When I walk off my porch, it follows obediently. I lead it around the side of the house to where I keep the water hose.
“I’m gonna let you in, but you need to get all that mud off you.” I reach for the dog’s collar. It doesn’t have one; of course. The dog’s tail wags harder than ever when my fingers brush its fur.
It waits while I unwind the hose and turn on the spigot, but as soon as I give the sprayer a few experimental pumps, it goes nuts; the dog immediately runs into the stream of water, barking in delight.
I manage to grab hold of the scruff of its neck to hose it down properly. “You’re a girl,” I say once I get the mud off her backside. “Good to know.”
Once I’m confident she’s clean enough, I lead her back to my front porch and let her into my house. She immediately tears down the short hallway.
“My floors,” I sigh as her claws scratch at them. I whistle; she comes shooting back from the kitchen, tongue lolling out of her mouth. She’s got German shepherd ears, but her snout is smaller than a shepherd’s; border collie, maybe? She’s definitely some kind of mix. I take her into the downstairs bathroom and pat the side of the tub. She jumps in eagerly.
“Well, you’re certainly smart.” Her tail wags in response.
I grab some spare dog shampoo and turn on the water to give her a proper bath, really working the mud out of her fur. She’s dark brown and black with little tan markings above her eyes like eyebrows. I rub her ears when I rinse her, and her back leg thumps.
“Aren’t you a sweetie?” I croon at her, and she licks my hand.
I get a towel to dry her off and let her run around my house a bit while I head for the kitchen. She pauses occasionally to sniff something or shake more water out of her fur. Everything in my house becomes speckled with water droplets.
I don’t have any early appointments today; I’m not supposed to go in til noon. Emily and Hannah have things under control this morning. I can afford to hang out for a little while before I head to the office; besides, the dog’s curled up in a sleepy donut on my living room rug.
I make myself a cup of coffee and head out to my front porch, where I hover and squint out at the yard. The grass is getting long again; I might need to call the Wilsons and ask their son to mow it soon. I could mow it myself, I suppose, but he’s a good kid. He deserves the money.
My phone alarm beeps in my bathrobe pocket. I pull it out to silence it. My quiet moment to myself is over; it’s time to get ready for work.
I walk inside to scoot my empty coffee cup toward the sink, don my scrubs, and throw my thick red hair up into a ponytail before grabbing my keys. I don’t bother with makeup anymore; I used to, but wrestling an injured cow in the South Carolina heat tends to melt that stuff right off.
The dog wakes up, her ears perking at the sound of my jingling keys. “You wanna go f
or a ride?” I ask, and she jumps up, her tail wagging. This is definitely someone’s lost dog, and she may have a chip.
I pour the rest of the coffee into a travel mug and grab some hot dogs out of the fridge for the pup. “Come on, girl; let’s go.”
I don’t even have to use the hot dogs to coax her into the car, but I feed her one anyway once I get myself settled.
“Time to get you back home,” I tell her.
2
The roads are, as usual, empty. This is a rural town; if I actually do get stuck behind a vehicle, it’s more than likely a tractor.
I make my way to the little cluster of shops and buildings that we like to call “downtown”. My veterinary office is nestled between the Dollar General and a hair salon, so the parking lot is small; but I own the entire plot of land extending behind us, which is mostly taken up by a large barn.
I park on the gravel patch next to the barn doors and slip out of my car. Hannah’s beat-up Chevy pickup is already here, next to Emily’s sensible Honda. One of the barn’s double doors stands open. I can already smell the hay.
I let the dog out and lead her through the barn doors. The scent of hay becomes stronger as I enter the nearly-empty barn, mingled with the musty smell of horses. She’s curious; she trots over to the stall belonging to Domino - one of my horse patients and probably the source of the smell - and lifts her nose to sniff eagerly. Domino sticks his head over his stall door. His owner has dogs, so he’s used to them. He leans down to sniff her back, nickering softly.
“Hey, boy,” I say as I pass. He reaches for me, lips flapping, obviously trying to sniff out a treat; he’s doing much better. “Come on!” I call to the lost pup, patting my leg. She bounds after me, her tail high up and wagging furiously.
Down the way is Jane, a pregnant cow who needs extra care. She just blinks. Jane’s never been a big talker.
The barn ends in a hallway that opens into the office’s kennel, where we house the smaller pets. It’s a little louder in here. We’ve got a few dogs and cats, but the main cause of the ruckus is a goose named Sprinkles, whose loud honking fills the room.
Emily’s here, trying valiantly to put a mastiff almost twice her size into a cage. “Hey, Trisha! Aw!” she shrieks as soon as she sets eyes on the lost dog. The puppy runs straight at her.
“Morning,” I say, shutting the door behind me.
“You’re here early,” Emily says warmly, struggling to keep her mouth away from the dog’s furious licks and also with the mastiff, who stands in front of the cage, placid and immobile. “Who’s this?”
“Not sure. She showed up on my porch this morning.” I reach down and ruffle the dog’s fur; she enters excitement overload and runs down the kennel, eliciting more barks from the caged dogs. “She’s someone’s dog for sure, so I thought I’d bring her in and check for a chip.”
“Scanner’s over there.” Emily jerks her head at the wall behind her.
“What’s going on?” I ask her.
“Just trying to get Bean into his cage,” she grunts in reply.
I watch her for a few moments, amused. Emily’s a waif of a girl, but she’s stronger than she looks. She grew up around here, and she graciously came back to work for me after college. She’s my assistant. I dread the day she moves away and onto better things.
“Let me help,” I sigh finally. I plop my purse unceremoniously on top of the nearest cage and move toward her. Bean the mastiff stares balefully up at me. All I have to do is pat the back of his head and gesture toward the cage, and he walks right in and lays down with a huff.
Emily stares at me in amazement. “How did you do that?”
“Bean doesn’t like being pushed,” I tell her as I shut the door. “Okay, time to scan the pup.”
“I’ll hold her!”
I grin as I grab the handheld scanner and power it on. Of course Emily’s volunteering to hold her; the dog comes rocketing back down the kennel hallway and leaps into Emily’s open arms.
“Did you already feel for a bump?” Emily asks.
“Duh.” I crouch down beside them. “Try to keep her still.” I hover the scanner over the puppy’s shoulders.
At the word “still”, the dog ceases all movement. Emily and I share a glance.
“Well-trained,” she says.
I run the scanner all over the dog’s body - shoulders, armpits, stomach, everywhere. It never pings a chip. Just in case, I grab a different handheld scanner and try again. Still no chip. Emily releases the pup, but she stays immobile.
“Okay,” I mutter, and the dog springs back to life, wiggling and licking all over Emily’s face. “She’s not chipped, but she’s definitely someone’s dog.”
“I don’t recognize her,” Emily says between ducking out of the way of the pup’s tongue. “Do you know if anyone’s gotten a new dog?”
“No, but we better hold her til someone comes looking for her. I’ll tell Hannah to put something up on our site.”
“She’s so friendly!” Emily gushes; the dog rolls over on her back for some belly rubs. “Aw, if no one shows up, I’ll take her home with me.”
“Don’t you already have four dogs? And two cats? And a bird?”
“They’ll love her!” Emily replies eagerly.
Silently hoping the owner shows up soon, I head toward reception to talk to Hannah.
“Reception” is a somewhat grand word for the small room full of filing cabinets that it describes, but since it’s behind a desk and a pane of glass, it fits the bill. Hannah, my receptionist, is kicked back in her chair with her feet on the desk, scrolling idly through her phone.
“Hey, boss,” she says flatly without looking up.
“Two things - first, did you print my schedule?”
She points to the wall nearest the door, again without looking at me. She’s pinned a color-coded spreadsheet to the cork board there.
“Thanks, Hannah.” I grab the spreadsheet and slip it into a clipboard. “We also have a lost dog without a chip. Think you can put something up on our site about it?”
“Sure.”
“Remember to take your feet off the desk when a patient comes in.”
She grunts in affirmation. I go to my own office, which is just a glorified closet, and shimmy my way around the cramped room to my desk. Paperwork that would take me hours to do takes Hannah almost no time at all; this spreadsheet alone would have taken me an hour. She did it in a few minutes. She’ll have something up about the lost dog in no time - and it’ll probably look somehow professional and cute simultaneously.
I settle in to start my work.
I glance at the clock. My first appointment is in ten minutes, but the lobby was empty when I saw Hannah.
I continue to examine my schedule as I hear Hannah and Emily’s muffled voices. In a few moments, Emily knocks on my door and leans through the doorway. “Your nine-thirty is here,” she says.
“Is my nine o’clock here yet?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I sigh. “All right. Give - ” I glance at my schedule to find the name of my nine-thirty appointment. “ - Mrs. Woods the paperwork, tell her to fill it out.”
Emily nods and leaves. I make a note on my schedule and keep going. If my nine o’clock isn’t here by nine-thirty, their appointment gets cancelled and I charge a fee. Who is my nine o’clock, anyway?
Damn. It’s Dave Forrester. He’ll raise hell. I sigh and make another note - I have to deal with him personally so he doesn’t bully my girls.
Mrs. Woods completes her paperwork in a quick moment, and Dave still doesn’t show. I take her back to the exam room. Her little Pomeranian just needs a checkup, and I do it quickly and send them off with a clean bill of health.
Dave still doesn’t show.
I forget about him as I deal with my ten o’clock, a sick cat showing all the symptoms of having a tapeworm. I’ve got an eyeful of cat rear when I hear the shouting in the lobby.
With a sigh, I lower the cat’s tail
. “Hold on just a sec, Sandy.”
“Is that Dave out there?” she asks, reaching out to hold her cat.
“Yeah. His appointment was at nine.”
Sandy rolls her eyes. “Well, you know how Dave is.”
“I sure do. I’ll get Emily to finish up here,” I say, stripping off my gloves and tossing them into the trash as I head out the door.
Dave’s shouting is much less muffled out here. Emily stands behind the front desk, her back rigid, while Dave shouts at her from the other side of the glass. He’s clutching his Rottweiler’s leash and gesticulating wildly, flinging one arm above his head while he yells about how “ridiculous” this is. Hannah slumps over her phone, scrolling with one finger, absolutely unbothered.
“Emily, I need you in exam room one,” I say as I pass the door to reception. Emily shoots me a grateful look and hurries out.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Dave screams, his face turning red. “Who told you you could leave?”
I open the door to the front lobby and walk out. “I did,” I say dramatically.
Dave whirls toward me. His teeth grind against each other. His Rottweiler, Spike, sits beside him, panting and wagging his butt. “They’re saying they’ve cancelled my appointment!” Dave yells.
“Yeah, we have,” I tell him.
“Well that’s ridiculous! I demand to be seen!”
I glance around the empty lobby. “I could see you now,” I say thoughtfully, hoping to deescalate the situation.
