'Tis The Season

I smile. “You don’t say?”

He flashes me a pleading glance that makes me choke back a giggle.

“I just gave him a few pointers. Are you ready for the grand reveal?” Riley grins.

“Yes?” I glance from Riley to Warren.

“I’ll be right back.” Riley walks away from the register and disappears through a door that leads into the back. A few moments later, she returns with a large, red present with gold stars and a gold ribbon. The lid pops off. A tiny beagle with floppy ears and a small muzzle hangs over the edge of the box, attempting to escape. It yips, and my heart lurches.

“This little guy is ready to be taken to his new home,” Riley says.

“With me?” I ask.

“Yes. He’s waiting for a name.”

I walk over to the box. “Hi.” He yips and licks my nose, making me laugh.

“He’ll be good company, and young enough to grow up with Flora.”

“Do you want to go home with me, sweet boy?” I scratch behind his ears, and he opens his mouth wide in a puppy smile. “Yeah, you do.” I lift him up into my arms. He snuggles into my neck, and my heart is gone. Any thoughts of extra responsibility being a bad thing vanishes. There is no way I’m letting this adorable puppy go back into that cold, steel prison and wait for someone else to take him home.

I smile up at Warren, who laughs. “I think we can safely assume she loves him.”

“How could I not?” I sway back and forth as my maternal instincts fly into hyperdrive. “What’s your name, buddy, huh?” I stroke his short fur, giving him scratches. “You’re so cuddly. Monty.”

“That’s a great name.” Riley leans over the counter on her elbows.

I smirk to hide the smile on my lips as she gazes at Warren with apparent interest.

“What do you think, Monty? Do you like that name?” I pull him back to look up at me. He wags his tail wildly. I take it as his version of yes. “Monty it is.” I busy myself with getting all the essentials necessary, all included in Uncle Warren’s present.

JAMES

“Go home, Jen.”

“Doctor Bailey, I can’t leave you with this mess.” She gestures toward the inventory we’ve yet to put up.

“It’s okay. I can stay late. You’ve got a family to get home to, and a late night waiting for little ones to sleep so Father Christmas can arrive.” A pang of longing hits as I think of her children. I’d often thought I would have my own by now. Life doesn’t always work out the way we’d like it to, though. So here I am in my mid-thirties with a successful practice, but no wife or children in sight.

The brunette cocks her hip and frowns. “You work too hard.”

“The same could be said for you. Go on now. I have no one waiting at home for me. I’ll have this done and close the office in an hour.”

“I’m going.” She points her finger at me. “But note I leave under protest.”

“Noted, Jen.” I smile as she walks toward the office to retrieve her coat. Hitting the remote start, she begins the process of thawing out her car during December in Annapolis, Maryland.

“I can help until my car is warm,” Jen says.

“I appreciate it.”

She nods. Jen is my veteran vet assistant. In her mid-thirties, she’s been at enough offices to know her way around a practice. With love for both animals and their owners, she’s got a real knack for calming anxious owners. She’s been a godsend from the moment she set foot in my practice for an interview. I leaned on her plenty over the years to keep the younger, less experienced vet techs on the right path.

I’d focused all my attention and energy on succeeding in the business. Now I had a list of loyal, local clients, a decent reputation, and a growing practice. I’m at the point where I can hand over some of the control, but I don’t because there’s nothing else for me to do with my time. Most of my friends are coupled and settled down with kids. Which makes our get-togethers few and far between, or uncomfortable as I play the third wheel, or poor sod they’ve decided to pair up again.

The time passes swiftly, and I walk Jen to the door, locking the main entrance behind her. With the supplies replenished, I sanitize the room and turn off the lights. My phone chimes, and I smile at the name appearing on my screen. My brother, Thomas, must be at my mother’s with his family. I try not to feel bitter about my parents’ decision to relocate to the motherland. After all, Thomas was the one to give them not only one grandchild but three with his wife, Angelina.

I answer the duo ap and smile at the face so similar to my own. Thomas’ wheat-colored hair is cropped close to his head, and his wide-set, green eyes identical to our mother’s gleam with mischief and joy. Fatherhood suits him more than I ever could’ve imagined. He’d been a bit of a rolling stone, never settling down or showing an inclination toward wanting the family life until he met Angelina. The sounds of rustling paper and jubilant, tiny voices make my heart swell.