Page 13 of Pugs & Kisses
Seeing Evie again was one thing. Being in the vicinity of his old lab partner would send him to a level of hell Bryson wasn’t up for visiting.
“Only for Doc,” Bryson said. “He’s the only reason I would subject myself to this shit.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and, through gritted teeth, said, “Siri, get me the directions to Maple Street Animal Clinic.”
Even saying the name of the practice Cameron had inherited from his dad made Bryson’s ass itch. He’d suffered through countless hours of that cocky nepo baby talking about all he would do to the clinic once it passed down to him.
“You’re ten times more successful than that asshole,” Bryson reminded himself. Bella barked her agreement.
The navigation system took him almost back to the bar where he and Derrick had hung out Saturday night.
Bryson had forgotten just how close the Broussards’ practice was to all the places he used to frequent that summer.
Audubon Park, which included the Audubon Zoo, was less than a mile away.
The Sanctuary was within walking distance of the zoo, and Doc’s house was only a few blocks from the animal refuge, not far from the Mississippi River.
The sense of loathing that pooled in Bryson’s gut as he maneuvered the Jeep into a spot across the street from the animal clinic was sizable, but he couldn’t let it show on his face.
He had to be cool and collected the first time he saw Cameron after all these years.
He would embody the rockstar, in-demand surgeon the rest of the veterinary world saw him as.
Granted, most rockstar veterinary surgeons didn’t go around carrying an eight-pound papillon with glittery painted nails, but it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t leaving Bella alone. He unhooked her pet carrier and hoisted it out of the Jeep.
Maple Street Animal Clinic was housed in a camelback cottage in a neighborhood that boasted some of the most charming homes in New Orleans.
Back when they were in vet school, the exterior of the building had been pink and looked like a cross between a preschool and a gingerbread house, with pastel-green shutters and a blue door.
There had been a mural of animals frolicking in a meadow painted on the side.
Now the building was slate gray with white shutters and black trim.
If not for the elegant wooden sign in the front yard indicating it was an animal clinic, the structure could be mistaken for the boutiques one would find lining Magazine Street and in the French Quarter.
Cameron always talked about targeting a more sophisticated clientele than his dad had.
He guessed this new look was part of that.
Bryson was surprised he hadn’t changed the name to match the outside.
Something French, or some shit like that.
He walked up the steps but stopped when he reached the porch.
He had to ready himself to face Cameron again after all these years.
His old lab partner would either be condescending, or he would pretend they were friends and try to kiss up to him like several people had Saturday night at the LVMA meeting.
Either would make Bryson want to hurl his fist at him.
“We’re gonna just say no to violence, Bells,” Bryson said.
He switched Bella’s carrier to his right arm and opened the door.
The first thing he noticed was how the exterior renovations had not extended to the interior.
Other than new paint on the walls, everything looked the same.
From the yellow Formica countertop at the reception desk to the oak shelves that held a variety of prescription dog foods. Both had seen better days.
“Good evening,” the receptionist greeted, then held up her hand while grabbing the phone’s receiver. “One minute.”
Bryson couldn’t recall the name of the woman who’d worked for Charles Broussard, but he did remember how much Cameron bitched about her.
The receptionist ended the call and handed Bryson a clipboard. “You can sign in here. We just need your name, your dog’s name, and what brings you in.”
“Oh, I’m not here to see the doctor,” Bryson said. “Well, actually, I am here to see the doctor, but not for my dog.”
The receptionist’s forehead creased in confusion, and who the hell could blame her?
“I’m sorry,” Bryson said. “I’m here to speak to Dr. Williams.”
Or was it Williams-Broussard? He couldn’t see Evie dropping her maiden name entirely. Her family was more prominent than Cameron’s when it came to New Orleans high society.
“Oh, uh…” The receptionist hesitated. “Dr. Williams is—”
Before she could finish, Evie entered the lobby from the hallway that led to the back, carrying a cardboard banker box. Her steps faltered when she saw him.
“Bryson?” Her forehead crinkled. “What are you doing here?”
“He asked to see you,” the receptionist said. She pointed to the phone. “And Dr. Broussard said to tell you that he’s coming back to the office at five, so if you don’t want to see him, you should leave.”
“Oh, is that what Dr. Broussard said?” Evie huffed out a laugh and shook her head.
It was Bryson’s turn to wear the crinkled forehead look.
Had he heard the receptionist correctly? If Evie didn’t want to see Cameron, she should leave? What was going on here?
“This is the last of my stuff,” Evie continued. “If there’s anything I’ve missed, please just hold it here at reception and I’ll come by and pick it up tomorrow.”
The receptionist nodded, her expression solemn. “Good luck, Dr. Williams.”
“Thanks,” Evie said. Her smile was forced. He could tell by the tightness around her mouth.
He needed to get over to The Sanctuary, but that would have to take a back seat until he figured out just what in the hell was going on here on Maple Street.
“Evie—”
“Would you mind getting that?” she asked, gesturing to the door with her chin.
Remembering the manners his mama taught him, Bryson set Bella’s carrier on the floor and lifted the box from Evie’s arms. He nodded at the carrier. “Can you carry Bella for me?”
“I can carry the box,” Evie said.
“I know you can, but I’ve got it,” Bryson said. “Now, where am I bringing it?”
“You never answered my question. I asked what are you doing here?” Evie said. “And why are you wearing scrubs? I’m confused, Bryson.”
That made two of them. Or three of them, counting the receptionist. Shit, Bella was probably confused too.
“First, tell me where to bring the box; then we can clear up all the confusion.”
Evie picked up the carrier and led him out of the clinic. She pointed to the vehicles lining the curb.
“It’s the gray SUV,” she said.
She pressed a button on the key fob as she descended the steps. By the time they arrived at the SUV, the trunk door had lifted, but the cargo area was already filled with boxes.
“You can put it on top of that flat one,” Evie said.
Bryson set the box where she instructed, then hooked his thumb at the trunk and asked, “What is all this, Evie? What’s going on?”
She looked over at the clinic, then, after releasing a deep sigh, looked back at him and said, “I’m clearing out my things. This is my last day at Maple Street Animal Clinic.”