but he was still careful with the wheelchair and crutches as he unloaded them for Garrick.
“Need my arm?” He knew better than to hover, but still wanted to make the offer if Garrick needed assistance.
“Nah. I’ve got it.” Garrick smoothly transferred from the car to the chair, then waited for Rain to unload the dog. “That’s a good girl.” Garrick stuck out his hand and this time the dog sniffed it, even without a treat. She seemed to be warming up to both of them, even though she was noticeably skittish as they approached the door. Once inside, she plopped down, almost like she was trying to hide behind them.
“Now, who do we have here?” A receptionist in kitten-print scrubs and pink glasses peered over her desk at them. Garrick explained about finding the dog, and the receptionist nodded sympathetically. “It shouldn’t be too long a wait for the vet. I’ll need a name for her though, just to start a chart.”
“Name?” Garrick looked over at Rain like he might have the answer, which was nice, being consulted like that. Usually take-charge guys like Garrick didn’t slow down long enough to solicit other opinions. Which Rain had.
“If they can’t find an owner, you want her to have a great shot at adoption. Pick something fun and gentle for her maybe? Approachable? She looks all tough, big black dog, but really she’s almost shy. Aren’t you, sweetie?”
As if she knew she was being talked about, the dog crept forward to nose at the treat bag Rain was holding.
“No, you can’t have another cookie,” he said firmly.
“Cookie.” Garrick smiled, and it was a great smile, wide and welcoming, the sort belonging to an easy charmer who probably had tons of friends. “That’s it. At least we know she’ll come to that. And you can put my address for now.”
After the intake information was handled, they were shown to a little room with a window facing a garden and a cheery mural on the wall.
“You and your son can wait in here while I take Cookie for her weight and temperature,” the receptionist said to Garrick, making Rain snort. The dude wasn’t that old. Midthirties maybe. His messy hair and facial scruff made him look older, but he didn’t have any gray yet. For himself, Rain was used to looking young. Probably one of the reasons the bartender gig had fallen through. The manager guy had sounded like he didn’t trust Rain to not be slipping drinks to underage buddies.
“Not the son. Just another neighbor,” Rain said quickly before she could leap to her next assumption that Garrick was the sugar daddy with the credit cards. Not that Rain would necessarily mind, but this was a small town, and Garrick had “sports-loving dude bro” written all over him.
“Ah. Well, Cookie is lucky to have you both. I’ll check on a microchip while we’re in the back.”
“Man, I hope she’s got the microchip and a nice owner on file,” Garrick said as the receptionist and Cookie left, leaving Rain to take one of the seats in the room.
“Yeah, she’s a great dog.” Personally, Rain didn’t have as much hope of an owner—no collar, and despite a sturdy build the dog looked like she hadn’t had a good meal in a few days.
“So, tell me about these firefighting classes you were taking. What certs do you have?” Garrick asked like he actually cared about the answer and not like he was just looking to kill time. Which made Rain give him a real answer, one that kept them talking about his rather eclectic collection of community college classes until a vet tech brought Cookie back.
The tech was followed by a woman around Garrick’s age who had to be the vet, judging by the stethoscope around her neck. “I have good news and bad news,” the vet said as she shut the door behind her. Cookie now sported a white mitt on her paw and a shaved patch around the scrape on her side, but seemed in good spirits. “Which do you want first?”
“Good,” Rain said, right as Garrick said, “Bad.”
“Okay. Both it is.” The vet laughed. She had kind eyes and short dark hair, and Cookie was already nuzzling up to her, looking for treats. “Well, no microchip for one. No lost dog calls here either. But good news—she’s been spayed and other than a large thorn in her paw and the scrape on her side, she’s pretty healthy. I’d guess she’s a year or