“I’m sorry, yes. When did you take him in?”
Gastric dilatation-volvulus, or GDV, was seriously life-threatening. While the condition generally afflicted large dogs, Dachshunds were one of the few small breeds it targeted. The medical condition occurred when a dog’s stomach bloated, which it surely would’ve done after chowing down an entire slipper. Mortality rates increased quickly, because owners with gassy dogs thought the condition would go away like it had before. By the time they realized their pet was in critical distress, it was oftentimes too late.
“Early this morning,” she replied, a tremor in her voice. “I was there when the vet’s office opened. He took Chipper right in. He’s had him all day.”
Tripp shoved to his feet. “Is that where you were going now?”
The poor woman nodded, then pressed her fingers to her lips and whispered, “He’s all I have. I can’t let him suffer, and I won’t let him die alone.”
“How about I drive?” he asked gently, his feet already aimed to his place and his truck keys.
“That would be sweet of you. The metro’s crowded this time of day.”
“Can I come with you?” a timid, but sweet, voice asked. Ashley was peeking around the wooden door that had kept him out.
“Sure. Yes, you bet,” he replied as evenly as his thumping heart would allow. Man, she looked good. “We’d love the company, but we’re just going to the vet, and—”
Ashley’s door shut with a resolute snick behind her. She went straight to Mrs. Harrison’s side and took hold of the older woman’s hand. “I couldn’t help overhearing what you said, and I’m so sorry Chipper’s sick. Let’s get you to your fur baby right now.”
Tripp eyed his pretty neighbor. He was right. She’d been standing on the other side of her door. Better yet, she honestly cared about Mrs. Harrison. Good on her.
Chapter Seven
If there was a more excruciating torture than sitting alongside this beautiful woman with her tantalizing hip and sexy thigh pressed tight against his, Tripp didn’t know it. But there he was, in his truck with Mrs. Harrison riding shotgun, and Ashley seated between them, her arms wrapped protectively around the clunky messenger bag in her lap. Now Tripp knew why. She carried one of those tiny cans of mace in that bag. Despite her stodgy, man-style uniform, nothing could stop the heat building between them.
Man, he ached to tell her who he was, that he was the guy who’d saved her. But vigilantes lived two very separate lives for a reason. Bringing her into his confidence could get her hurt, might even make her an accomplice or get her killed.
Sitting this close made her nervous. She tried not to touch him more than she had to. But in the confines of his Chevy pick-up, with the rear floor and seat still stuffed with boxes he needed to unpack from his move, there wasn’t room to spare. Not that Tripp didn’t appreciate every bump and turn that brought Ashley closer. He truly did. He just wished he’d changed into jeans when he’d grabbed a clean shirt before this road trip. Because now, every turn, corner, and stop his truck made, brought the warmth and softness of her against his bare leg. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to accompany Mrs. Fields into the vet’s office. There’d be no way to hide what was happening between his legs.
Worse, the ends of Ashley’s long ponytail brushing over his arm when she moved, were as soft as angel kisses. That comparison alone should’ve been the buzzkill he needed to calm the hell down. She was an angel, but he was as fallen a devil as a man could get. He’d been to war, had done what soldiers the world over did. He’d served his country, and in the course of that service, he’d ended his share of high-value targets. Didn’t regret one of them.
A soldier didn’t earn his Ranger tab without facing the two-mile buddy-run in full ACU, Army combat uniform, while carrying a full Camelback, a loaded M4, and a shitload of ammo. He’d destroyed the Malvesti Obstacle Course of the Benning Phase at Camp Rogers, Fort Benning, Georgia. Including the infamous worm pit, a shallow, mucky obstacle course covered with knee-high barbed-wire. The only way through the pit was to crawl over the wire or worm under it, either on his belly or back. He’d survived the plunge into Victory Pond, too, damn it. As well as parachute jumps and extractions where he’d been hooked, along with other Ranger wannabes, dangling from the belly of a low-flying helo.
Not to mention he was outright breaking the law every night as Alexandria’s one and only vigilante. But he wasn’t so sure he’d survive one more minute of not kissing Ashley Cox’s mouth. He was a pig, but she was a luscious breath of sweet, fresh air sitting beside him. The epitome of the girl next door, against his thigh and nearly under the arm that wanted to curl around her and keep her safe.
There went his hero complex, but so what? She was a tiny, fragile thing, and he had a gut feeling she might just need someone like him in her corner. He hoped so. It’d be just as nice to have her in his corner. In his apartment. In his bed...
His head sure was working against him today. To keep his mind from planning down to the last detail how great the tender body beside him would feel beneath him, Tripp focused on being the safest, most anal driver on the road. It would’ve worked if his nostrils weren’t striving to inhale every last atom of the cherry-scented shampoo she’d used, or the powdery fragrance of her deodorant. All those unique, womanly pheromones drove a man crazy. Damn, he should’ve traded his workout shorts for jeans. He could’ve hidden the spike in his pants then. Now? Not so much.
Mrs. Harrison leaned forward and pointed across Ashley’s chest to the red-brick building tucked under two stately magnolia trees on the other side of the street. “There. The vet’s office is over there.”
Thank God in heaven for small miracles. Dutifully, Tripp flipped his turn signal, then patiently drummed his fingertips on the wheel, waiting for opposing traffic to clear. Once he’d crossed the two lanes of traffic into the vet’s parking lot, he pulled into the stall closest to the office door.
“You can’t park here,” Ashley murmured. “It’s for handicapped people only, Mr. McClane.”
“Right. Got that. Not parking. Just dropping Mrs. Harrison close enough, so she won’t have far to walk. And it’s Tripp, not mister anything. Just Tripp.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” She bit her bottom lip. “That was thoughtful. I’m Ashley. Just Ashley.”
Putting the truck in park, he cast a sideways glance at Ashley. Did she think he was a total jerk just because some piece of paper said so? Never mind. He didn’t have time to care about that nonsense right now. In two seconds, he was out of the truck and opening Mrs. Harrison’s door. The step down from his front seat was too high for a delicate, older woman like her, and he had yet to install running boards. Most guys didn’t need them, and he hadn’t been around town long enough to date someone who did. Without asking, he took careful hold of her waist and set her gently on the ground. “There you go, ma’am. I’ve got you. Watch your step.”
“Thank you, Tripp. You’re always so good to me.”
The moment she looked up at him with those sad eyes, his out-of-control lust for Ashley’s body faded. Mrs. Harrison was trying to hide her tears, like most women of her generation did. Acting brave when her world was falling apart.
“You are never a problem,” he murmured. He couldn’t let her face whatever lay inside the vet’s office alone.
Ashley was perched on the edge of the truck seat by then with her bag hanging off her shoulder, looking down at the distance to ground level. Which for a woman her size, probably seemed like jumping off a cliff. She’d sucked her bottom lip in, biting it as she studied the drop.
“I’ve gotcha,” he told her as he carefully transferred Ashley to Mrs. Harrison’s side, without inadvertently groping her at all. “Why don’t you ladies go inside? I’ll park and join you in a minute.”
He would’ve done just that, but Ashley grabbed his wrist before he turned away. “Thanks for letting me come along.”
Man, he could’ve stood there a
ll day, staring into her sapphire-blue eyes and at her peaches-and-cream complexion. “My pleasure,” he replied, his voice softer than he cared to admit.
The slender fingers touching him were light as feathers—until she jerked her hand away, as if touching him burned. He had a feeling he could thank Trish for that.
“You have to understand something, Ashley. Your report’s one-hundred percent wrong about me. I’m not that kind of guy,” he told her firmly.
She tossed her head and sent that ponytail ruffling down her back, like a shiny, ebony wave, body language for, ‘Yeah, right. That’s what guys like you say.’
Tripp let further explanations go for now. Chipper needed his mistress and, God willing, there’d be time to set things straight with Ashley later. Once inside the small lobby, he stood at Mrs. Harrison’s side while she spoke with the receptionist.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the young man with thick, horn-rimmed glasses behind the counter said as he rushed into the hall that led to the backroom. “Wait here. Umm, don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll go get Doctor Myers. He really needs to be the one to tell, err, umm, talk with you.”
That didn’t sound good.
A quiet sob broke free from Mrs. Harrison. She closed her eyes and whispered, “He’s gone. I just know it. He’s already gone, Tripp. I’m too late. What am I going to do?”
He did what he would’ve done if she were his mom, just pulled Mrs. Harrison into his side and held her, his heart breaking for this lonely woman. “You’re stronger than you realize,” he told her quietly, “and I’m just across the hall whenever you need me. I’m in Alexandria for good now. You’re always welcome at my place. But let’s wait and see what Doctor Myers says before we panic, okay?”
She nodded, but she was falling apart, and he was falling apart with her. Dogs should live longer, damn it. The world needed them more than it needed the crowds of selfish, entitled people currently overpopulating every damned open green space on the planet. Humans were the current plague. Not dogs.
“And I’m right next door to Tripp, Mrs. Harrison,” Ashley added timidly. “You can call me any time. I’ll give you all my numbers on the ride back home.”
He looked at Ashley then, but she was blurry as hell. Damn it. His eyes were leaking.
Doctor Myers appeared out of nowhere and took Mrs. Harrison by the hand. He pulled her into the hall, then into an empty exam room and shut the door. Tripp took position just inside the door and crossed his arms, prepared for the worst. Ashley went to sit alongside Mrs. Harrison on the padded bench beside the shiny, stainless steel, but empty, exam table. She tucked her bag next to her.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.” Doctor Myers grabbed a box of tissues from the counter, then took a knee at Mrs. Harrison’s feet and put the box at her side. “We tried everything to save your little Chipper. I did emergency surgery to insert a trocar, but he went into shock. He was badly dehydrated, and I believe the stress was too much for his heart. Remind me, when did he last eat?”
“When he ate my slipper, l-l-last week. Friday, I think.” She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling.
Tripp pursed his lips. Four days ago. Wow. Poor Chipper. That was a long time for the little guy to suffer. “What’s a trocar?” he asked the vet.
Kindness gleamed in the gentleman’s eyes when Doctor Myers lifted his chin to address Tripp. “It’s an obturator, essentially a cannula with one sharpened end. Once it’s inserted into distended abdomens, like Chipper’s, it allows built-up gases, if there are any, to escape. Unfortunately, his little stomach had twisted by then. I couldn’t save him.”
“But you tried,” Mrs. Harrison cried, patting the vet’s shoulder. “Th-thank you for trying to help my little boy, Doctor.”
He clasped her wrist. “Chipper didn’t suffer, Barbara. Honest. We gave him whatever he needed to stop the pain. I wish I could’ve done more.”
She dabbed tissues under her eyes as tears flowed freely. “I know you do. You’ve always been real good to me and my baby.”
Ashley was dabbing the corners of her eyes by then, and Tripp was eyeballing the box of tissues. “He must’ve really enjoyed that slipper,” he offered evenly, trying like hell to lessen the tragedy by focusing on the joy that smelly fur baby had brought into his mistress’s life.
Mrs. Harrison’s head bobbed. “Oh, he did, that little rascal. But now he’s gone, and… and that’s that, isn’t it?”
“I can take you to see him if you’d like,” Doctor Myers offered softly. “We’ve kept him warm. I’m sure his spirit’s still hovering nearby, waiting to say goodbye to his mom before he crosses over the Rainbow Bridge.”
She choked back a sob. “Yes. I’d like that. Thank you.”
While the vet assisted Mrs. Harrison to her feet and out the door, Tripp bowed his chin to his chest and stared at the floor. Didn’t matter how it came, Death was always a hard motherfucker.
“You’re very kind to her.” Ashley said that as if it surprised her.
He kept his eyes down. Gray flecked linoleum tile shouldn’t look so interesting, but he couldn’t risk getting teary-eyed in front of this neighbor. “Yeah, well, I try. She reminds me of my mom, alone in the world, dealing with crap all by herself. Didn’t know her name was Barbara until today, though. Been calling her Mrs. Harrison ever since I met her. Out of respect, you know. She’s a class act.”
“How did you meet her?”
Tripp lifted his head and looked straight into Ashley’s eyes. “I need you to understand why my name’s on that notification list first.”
She crossed both arms over her chest, the compassion on her face turned to stone. “Do tell.”
“Did you even look at the results of my last physical that I slipped under your door?”
“Results can be invented or fixed.”
Tripp inhaled a long, slow breath, letting his belly expand. He had to give her that. “Well then, how about I give you the phone number of the doctor who gave me that physical, and let her confirm what I’m trying to tell you?”
“Anyone can pretend to be a doctor over the phone.”
Exasperated, he ran a hand over his head, then folded his arms across his chest again. “Okay, then, come with me after I take Barbara home. I’ll gladly introduce you to Doc Fitz. You saw the date on my report. You had to have seen her name in the signature block.”
Ashley shook her head. “I only came with you because Mrs. Harrison needed another woman to lean on.”
“You mean to protect her from evil men like me who prey on innocent women like you.” This was going nowhere fast. He rolled one shoulder to ease the tension knotted in his neck. “That’s damned sanctimonious. Condemn a man before you have all the facts.”
“I’ve heard every excuse there is.” She ran her fingertips over her lips.
Tripp’s cock noticed. Ashley had lush, pink lips and a perfectly indented Cupid’s bow that drew his attention. She had a way of pursing them before she talked, like she needed to warm them up to speak. He wanted to warm them up.
“Give me one more chance to prove I’m innocent?”
Ashley looked away, studying the color poster of cat breeds on the wall across from the bench. “Just go see your family doctor, Mr. McClane, or make an appointment at the clinic. Do what you’re supposed to do. Get a blood test.”
“Better yet…” Tripp offered his last sure shot. “I’ll introduce you to my damned sister. She’s the one who submitted my name. Trish thinks it’s funny to smear me every chance she gets. If you guys did a little research before you turned into judge, jury, and executioners, you’d discover the woman who listed me as one of her johns is Trish McClane, aka Trixie, Dixie, Ginger, or hell…” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m not sure what name she goes by now. But… hold on. I know.” He pulled his wallet out of his workout pants’ pocket and thumbed through his small collection of coupons and photos until he came across the one his mom had sent last Chris
tmas. “This is her and that’s my mom. Notice the resemblance? She’s my twin. Look familiar?”
Ashley met his gaze then, those blues finally curious. But for the wrong reason. “You don’t give up, do you?”
“Why should I? I’m innocent. I don’t pay for sex. Never have. Not going to start now.”
“And I’m not the person who treats people or collects this kind of confidential information,” she snapped. “One of our doctors does. I’m just the public health educator, the one who gets to track down men like you when you don’t respond to official notices.”
“What notices?”
“The letters and emails the doctor sent. All the phone messages she left. You’ve never answered one of them.”
“I’ve been out of town! Seattle, remember?”
“Most people can still access their email and cell phone messages when they travel. I checked the records. You’ve received plenty of both!”
He lowered his voice. “You just can’t believe I might be innocent, can you?” Man, she was frustrating.
“Why should I?” She was up on her feet, her hands on her hips, and her lovely breasts heaving beneath the stiff placard of buttons on her boring man-shirt.
His gaze dropped to that prim line of plain white dots that left none of her neck showing between her buttoned-up collar and her chin. Long-sleeved, the dark cotton material was too thick to reveal the color or style of the bra beneath it. No sweetly pebbled nipples embossed the fabric. The thing’s pockets were just as unrevealing, and those drab pants were a size too-large. She wore nothing to enhance her look. No lipstick, eye-shadow, earrings, barrettes, or bows.
Ashley’s generic, gender-neutral get-up was probably her employer’s fault, but her closed mind was all on her. What had happened to this bright, exciting woman to cause such a dark opinion of men? Was it all men or just him? Why did she dress like a guy? Was it because of her job or was she trying to blend in?
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