Page 63 of Catnip, Claws, and Chaos

The exam room door swings open before I can respond, and Logan emerges. Six women straighten their spines, three reach for lipstick, and Mrs. Lopez's chest thrusts forward at an angle that defies anatomical possibility.

Logan remains oblivious to the effect of his presence. “Mrs. Smith?”

A blonde rises from her seat, victory glinting in her eyes as she floats toward him in her pink Louboutins. “Dr. Price. How wonderful to see you again.”

My eyes roll so hard I nearly glimpse my frontal lobe.

Logan spots Mrs. Lopez looming over my desk. “Is there a problem?”

She transforms before my eyes from viper to songbird in an instant. “Dr. Price! My poor Julius is absolutely distraught. I fear only you can understand his condition.”

Logan's gaze drops to the dog, now humping her designer bag with impressive enthusiasm. “He appears quite... fine.”

“It comes and goes,” she insists, brushing her fingers across Logan's forearm, lingering a moment too long. “Couldn't you possibly see him today? For me?” Her eyelashes flutter.

Something primal stirs in my chest, and my throat tightens.

“As I explained,” I interject, “Dr. Price is fully booked until Thursday.”

The look Mrs. Lopez shoots me could freeze hell.

To Logan's credit, he doesn't cave. “I'm afraid Emily is right, Mrs. Lopez. My schedule is completely full today.” His hand gently extricates from her clinging fingers. “Mrs. Smith, this way, please.”

Logan's hand briefly squeezes my shoulder as he passes. For a moment, I forget about Mrs. Lopez until she speaks again.

“Thursday, then,” she snaps, and her manicured talons snatch the appointment card from my hand. “I truly cannot fathom why he keeps that dreadful little girl at reception. She possesses neither competence nor beauty,” she mutters while going through the front door.

My lips stretch into a grin so wide my face aches. “Have a splendid day, Mrs. Lopez! Give my fondest regards to Droolius!”

“Julius!”

Too easy.

The morning drags on,and by lunchtime, my cheeks ache from forced smiles, and my patience wears thinner than discount toilet paper.

It's then that the bell above the door jingles, and a familiar voice slices through the murmur of the waiting room.

“I need to see Logan—I mean, Dr. Price—immediately!”

Kate stands in the doorway, with her blonde hair piled atop her head in a messy bun, wearing paint-splattered overalls and clutching a pet carrier against her chest. Sarah hovers behind her, looking like she's considering changing her identity and fleeing the country.

“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath. “Kate? What are you doing here?”

She marches to my desk. “I have a pet emergency!”

“You don't even have a pet,” I hiss, eyeing the carrier warily.

“I do now.” Triumph illuminates her face as she lifts the carrier to my eye level. Inside sits a tiny turtle in a shallow puddle of water. “Meet Michelangelo!”

“Like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?”

“What? No! Like the artist!”

The urge to bang my head against the desk nearly overwhelms me. “What are you doing?” My whisper carries the intensity of a shout.

“Checking on you,” she responds, utterly unconcerned with the scene she's creating. “You've been AWOL for weeks. Plus, I wanted to see this hot vet who's been keeping my best friend hostage.”

“Well, you could have done that the last time if you weren't so taken by your misplaced vendetta against his friend,” Sarah mumbles.