The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“Good morning, Thomas,” Daisy greeted the young boy with a huge smile. “How’s Sheba doing today?”

“Good, Dr. Daisy. See?” He pointed to a spot just above the small brown dog’s tail, indicating the healing patch of skin there. Just a week ago the patch had been crusty and seriously inflamed. Sheba, indeed, looked to be on the mend.

“Oh, you’ve been taking good care of her, Thomas. Well done.” The boy beamed at her praise, and she gave the little crossbreed dog a cursory once-over to ensure no other problems.

“Keep using the ointment until it’s finished and bring her back to me in a month, okay? And we’ll see if her fur grew back.” She was happy that the dog seemed to have overcome the mild case of mange that had been developing. “Don’t forget to keep her out of the sand and make sure her bed is clean and dry.”

“Yes, Dr. Daisy.” Thomas nodded, his thin shoulders squaring as he practically bristled with pride that the doctor trusted him with the task. He was only about eight and had showed up a week ago at the free animal clinic that Daisy and her father ran every Saturday at the Inkululeko informal settlement just outside of town. The boy had been distraught that his beloved pet was in distress and, while his mother waited outside, had carried Sheba in himself and explained the problem in the most adult way he could. Daisy had respected him enough to respond to his seriousness with equal gravity.

Patient after patient followed Thomas. They were always slammed at the clinic, and despite the bad weather, today was no different. The workload kept Daisy and her father busy the entire morning, with barely a word spoken between them as they administered vaccinations, took care of minor ailments, and caged a few of the more serious cases in their van for further treatment at her father’s veterinary practice in town. They treated everything from cats and dogs to cart horses, goats, chickens, and even a cow. By the time they closed shop they were exhausted, filthy, and smelly.

“You coming around for dinner tonight, Daisy?” her father asked as they climbed into their van.

“Uh, no,” she said, thinking about her “date” with Mason Carlisle. Something she had successfully managed to push to the back of her mind while she was working. She was still considering canceling it, but the later the day got, the less likely it seemed that she would do the sensible thing and save herself some embarrassment.

“All the wedding stuff getting to you?” her father asked with a grimace as he carefully navigated the muddy dirt road that led back into town. “Don’t blame you. If I have to hear one more conversation about bouquets and shoes, I think I’ll lose my mind.”

“I have an appointment,” Daisy mumbled, trying to keep her flush under control.

“A what?”

“A . . . a thing. An appointment,” she said. Grabbing her bottled water, she took a thirsty gulp and focused her attention on the passing scenery. The narrow dirt road was lined with thick forest on either side, but once they hit the tar road just outside of town, the view opened up to include ocean. It really was a gorgeous part of the world. It wasn’t called the Garden Route for nothing.

“An appointment? On a Saturday night?” Her father sounded confused, and she sighed.

“It’s a casual thing.”

“With Tilda?”

“No. I have more than one friend, you know?” she huffed, and he threw her a quick look, surprised by her curt response. Daisy avoided his gaze and dragged out her phone for the first time that day. She never had time to check it while she was at the clinic. Her eyebrows flew up as she registered the insane amount of messages and missed calls—most of them from Daff and Tilda.

The messages were all similar:

So what did you and hunkalicious Mason C get up to last night???? CALL ME. That one was from Daff.

Tilda: OMG!!! Did you REALLY leave with Mason Carlisle last night? Whaaaaat? Details ASAP!!!

Another one from Daff: Did you see him naked? Did you shag his brains out? You dirty, dirty girl!! I. Am. SHOCKED! Daisy snorted at that one. Daff knew that Daisy was awkward around men and that she was unlikely to even have kissed Mason Carlisle.

She shook her head and pocketed the phone again, not in the mood to read any more of the crazy messages.

Her father had gone quiet after she’d snapped at him, and feeling guilty, Daisy opened her mouth to apologize, but he spoke before she could.

“Do you have a date, by any chance?” Daisy nearly swallowed her tongue in shock.

“I . . . what? Why would you think . . . who told you that?” Her father threw her another one of those sharp, assessing glances that never seemed to miss much.