Page 4 of Pugs & Kisses

But where could she go? The one thing that brought her the most joy—being surrounded by animals—was out of her reach.

She could not go to the clinic. She would scratch Cameron’s eyes out the moment she saw him.

She couldn’t go to either of Barkingham Palace’s locations because she’d told Ashanti she was sick.

Where was a girl to go to get some puppy love in her life?

Not even a second later, the answer popped into her mind. “Duh, Evie! Of course!”

The Sanctuary.

It was the perfect compromise. Not only was she guaranteed some quality doggy time, but also helping at the animal rescue would soothe a bit of the sting from her guilt.

Decision made, she put the container of leftover soup in the refrigerator and went into her bedroom to change.

She’d first volunteered at the animal nonprofit when she was in veterinary school and had continued volunteering several years after graduation.

But when Ashanti asked her to become the in-house veterinarian at Barkingham Palace, Evie had had to cut back on her volunteer hours.

They were now nonexistent. With a start, she realized she hadn’t been to The Sanctuary in over a year.

Evie peeled off the leggings and baggy T-shirt she’d been wearing since yesterday and hopped in the shower. After changing into jeans and a lightweight sweater, she headed for the animal rescue.

The Sanctuary was located near the Audubon Zoo, less than four miles from her house in the city’s Broadmoor neighborhood. Yet, because of afternoon traffic, it still took nearly twenty minutes to get there.

Evie smiled the moment she entered the nondescript building and spotted The Sanctuary’s office manager, Odessa Carter, sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hey there, stranger,” Evie greeted.

Odessa’s head popped up. “Evie!” She pushed back from the desk and rounded it, her arms open wide.

Evie hesitated a second before remembering that she actually was not sick and therefore did not have to worry about infecting Odessa with her make-believe illness.

“It’s so good to see you, honey,” the office manager said. “It’s been a while.”

“I know,” Evie said. “Life has been lifeing.” She gestured to Odessa’s short, natural ’fro. “I love the hair.” It had been dyed platinum blond and looked gorgeous with her dark brown skin.

“I gotta keep things fresh,” Odessa said. “Are you here to volunteer?”

Evie nodded. “I finally have some free time.” Understatement of the millennium.

“Well, we can always use a hand here. Doc is at lunch right now, but I know he would be grateful if you could finish up the vaccinations he started this morning.”

“How is Doc?” Evie asked as she followed Odessa into one of the rescue’s three treatment rooms. There hadn’t been much updating—make that any updating—since she was a student volunteer.

The dingy yellow-green paint was peeling in several places and the stainless-steel worktables were dull and scratched.

“As hardheaded as ever,” Odessa answered. “I don’t even try to tell that man anything these days. He’s just gonna do what he wants anyway.”

“Hardheadedness is one of Doc’s most endearing qualities,” Evie said with a laugh.

Odessa huffed.

Before retiring last year, Dr. Frederick Landry had been the senior-most faculty member at LSU Veterinary School.

One of his reasons for opening The Sanctuary—in addition to alleviating some of the strain on the city’s underfunded animal control services—was to establish a student mentorship program for those considering a career in the veterinary sciences.

Evie went through the paperwork that had been abandoned on the table—Doc was just old-school enough to want everything printed, even though Odessa had convinced him to convert to an electronic system a few years ago—and collected the vials for the DHPP and Bordetella vaccines.

She prefilled a dozen syringes and lined them up for easy access.

She made her way to the animal pens and felt an instant dopamine rush at the sight of the dogs. They went into a frenzy when they saw her.

Evie burst out laughing. Why hadn’t she thought to come here sooner?

By the time she’d vaccinated the first three dogs, all adorable sibling mutts who, according to Odessa, had been found wandering the neighborhood together, much of the melancholy she’d been wrestling with since yesterday had dissipated.

This is what being around dogs did for her.

It had been that way since she’d found a stray while riding her bicycle in the park on her seventh birthday.

Evie smiled. She hadn’t thought about Popsicle in years. He was the first of six dogs she’d had while growing up, all strays. Her tendency to find and rescue the scruffiest dogs in all of creation drove her mother up the wall, but those were the ones she gravitated toward.

Evie brought the siblings back to their shared pen and retrieved the next dog on the list.

“Aren’t you a cutie,” Evie said, picking up the fawn-colored dog. His dominant breed was clearly pug, but he was mixed with something else.

“Hey, Odessa, any idea what the pug is mixed with? Looks like maybe a beagle?” Evie called.

“That’s what Doc thinks he’s mixed with too,” Odessa answered as she came into the room.

“He was surrendered by his owner last week. The guy got him from a breeder as a gift for his girlfriend, but she wanted a miniature purebred pug and the breeder wouldn’t give him a refund.

” She rubbed the dog behind the ear. “This one is a sweetie.”

“Does he have a name?” Evie asked.

“He didn’t come with one. He looks like an Oliver to me. Or maybe a Sam.”

“You know I hate when dogs have people names,” Evie said. As she scratched the top of his head, she took in his coloring. His light brown coat reminded her of Butterball, the Pomeranian she’d rescued in the eighth grade. But the dark brown face and ears were hallmarks of a pug.

“This brown spot on the top of his head is pretty unique,” Evie said. “What if we call him Waffles?”

Odessa plopped a hand on her hip. “So you’d rather name a dog after breakfast than after one of the greatest singers of all time, Sam Cooke?”

“No offense to Sam Cooke, but Waffles is the perfect name for this cutie.” Evie pointed to him. “Check out the shape of the dark brown spot on his head. It looks like a splash of syrup.

“You’re a cute little stack of waffles, aren’t you?” She rubbed her nose to his as she continued the head scratch.

“If you say so,” Odessa said, leaving the room.

“You like the name, don’t you?”

He tilted his head to the side and looked at her like she’d just grown a third eye in the middle of her forehead.

“It’ll grow on you,” Evie said. “Now, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, but it’s for your own good,” she whispered to Waffles a second before administering the vaccine. “Good boy! You took that like a pro.”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I wish I could take you home,” Evie said.

She missed having a dog in the house. She hadn’t had one since she and Cameron moved in together, because Cam never wanted a dog. He always said he got his fill at work; he didn’t need any pets in his home.

That should have been her first glaringly red flag. What veterinarian didn’t want to own their own pet?

“There were so many signs, Waffles,” Evie said. The dog barked.

She laughed. “Look at that, you’re already answering to your name. I told you it would grow on you.”

She really wished she could bring this cutie home with her.

Evie jolted, her head rearing back. “Wait a minute,” she said. “I can take you home. Who’s there to stop me?”

She snuggled Waffles against her chest and walked to the lobby.

“Odessa?” Evie called. “Draw up the paperwork. I’m taking this one home.”

“Just because you gave him a name? Well, heck, girl, go on and name the rest of them.”

She chuckled. “One is enough for now,” she said, nuzzling Waffles’s neck. “I think this little cutie is exactly what I need.”

Just then, the door to The Sanctuary opened and Evie heard Doc Landry’s jovial laugh coming from just over her shoulder.

“Evie Williams, is that you?” Doc said.

“It is!” Evie turned.

And her heart stopped.

“Well, if this isn’t perfect timing,” Doc said, his cheery voice taking on a muted quality as it battled with the sudden chaos that had erupted in her head. “Look who’s in town.”

He pointed to the tall, dark-skinned, outrageously handsome man who’d come in behind him. A man dressed in tailored navy slacks and an expensive-looking powder-blue sweater. A man she had not come face-to-face with in eight years.

“Bryson,” Evie whispered.

Bryson Mitchell.

The other man who’d broken her heart.