Number Neighbors - Emma Hart Page 0,55

Nice job.”

“Shut up.” Her eyes shone with laughter. “I think it might be good for you. So you want an older one?”

“Nothing too old. Maybe two or three years old. Would you come with me?”

“To the shelter? Have you seen my willpower? I rescued that little shit as a full-fledged member of Team Dog and now he sleeps on the end of my bed.”

“I know. He woke me this morning by biting my toes.” I shot a glare his way. “We have got to get his foot fetish under control, by the way. I’m not dealing with that on a regular basis.”

“Who said you’re sleeping in my bed on a regular basis?”

“Fine. I’ll send you batteries for your vibrator and you can see how well that cooks you breakfast.”

Hannah paused. “Point taken. Until the robots rise up, you’ll do.”

“I’ll do?” Laughing, I pushed off the exam table and walked around it to her. I pulled her against me and kissed her, taking her lower lip between my teeth and dragging slowly.

She let out a breathy moan and sagged against me. “Stop it.”

I released her with one final laugh. “Go now. I have appointments all day and I can’t handle you getting me riled up.”

“You kissed me.” She sniffed and picked up the carrier. “When do you want to go to the shelter?”

“Shall we get dinner tonight and work it out?” I asked, opening the exam room door.

“Sounds good.” She smiled shyly. “See you later.”

“See you later, love.”

Her cheeks flushed pink.

That was the only reason I called her that. She blushed every time, and there was something so fucking adorable about making her blush that way that I couldn’t help myself.

She was going to kill me for it one day, I was sure of it.

She took Lucifer to the reception desk and shot one more look my way, but this look wasn’t the annoyed one she’d given me in the exam room. This one was filled with a softness; a softness I was coming to know and love about her.

Love.

That was such a big word, and one I wasn’t comfortable throwing around freely, but it was the correct one here. I was slowly falling in love with all the things that made her Hannah, and it wouldn’t be long until I knew I’d start falling in love with her.

I just hoped like hell her grandmother didn’t kill me first.

The woman was a trip.

Hannah shot me one last smile and waved before she left, and I watched her go for a minute.

“You’ve got it bad,” Jo, today’s receptionist, said.

“Oh, be quiet.”

***

I hated shelters.

I hated the animals left here with nobody to love them. I hated that none of them had a home to go to, that the only time they were really let out of their crates was for necessary exercise or to meet potential adopters.

I hated that some of these animals would die needlessly.

Everything about obtaining a pet sucked. There were people on both sides of the fence—those who believed it was their right to choose a pet from a breeder and those who believed breeders were the devil incarnate.

I stood firmly in the middle.

I believed everyone had their place in society and the animal world, even breeders. Some people didn’t have a choice—maybe they were allergic and needed hypoallergenic breeds. Maybe some people had special needs or their children did and they had to be mindful of the breeds they chose to get.

Then? Breeders were vital. It was important that everyone was able to get the pet they needed that would fit into their lifestyle, because that was how it worked. Unless you were buying a farm.

There was no chance you were fitting a pig into your lifestyle. You were changing yours.

The bottom line was that the manner of obtaining a pet didn’t matter. Whether a puppy or a kitten came from a shelter or a breeder, there was one point that so many people seemed to miss: they all needed a home regardless.

Take my grandma for example. She’d never once rescued any animal unless it was a hedgehog—then she rehabilitated those for the winter before letting them go. She’d also saved an owl once.

All right, I’ll rephrase.

She’d never rescued a pet before.

She worked a farm. She needed purebred working dogs to herd the sheep and cattle, and then she always had a terrier around to be her ratter.

All purebred. All perfect. All needing a home just as much as the others.

Her needs were different.

My aunt, however, refused to buy