My Funny Valentine (Pajaro Bay Series Book 4) Read Free Page A

just sat down on the couch and held her on his lap.
    She stuck her head under the towel so she was completely burrowed under the orange terry cloth, only her ears sticking out.
    They sat like that for a while, and he felt himself begin to relax. It was actually kind of pleasant to feel the warm little body nestled on his lap. She seemed to get heavier as she relaxed against him, and after a while she went to sleep. Her steady breathing and quiet presence felt nice. He reached over for his book, and went back to reading while the dog slept.
    Outside, it began to rain again.
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    H e was really getting the hang of this pet thing. He gave her a dish of milk, and she lapped it all up.
    Then she insisted on sitting on his lap while he watched a movie. She didn't seem to mind the explosions on the video, but just curled up on him and slept some more.
----
    R ight in the middle of the movie's big chase scene the dog threw up on him.
    "Ugh! Get off!" he shouted, and the dog scampered away, still heaving and leaving a mess in its wake.
    He was covered in it. "Great." He got to his feet and then went to the bathroom, pulling off his tee shirt as he went.
    Pets. What did people see in them?
    He grabbed another tee shirt and put it on, then headed back to the living room.
    What a mess. He got some paper towels and began to wipe up all the vomit. Strudel had huddled in the corner, as if she were frightened by her own sickness.
    "Relax, pup. It'll be okay," he said as he worked to clean the floor. He got everything cleaned up, put the towel and shirt into the washing machine, and came back just in time to witness the dog throwing up again.
    She ended with a whine. She was shaking all over. This couldn't be right. She looked horrible, and cowered, whining, in the farthest corner of the living room.
    "Come here, little one."
    She backed away from the man who had yelled at her.
    "Please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. You're as scared of me as I am of you, huh?"
    She looked terrible. Her big, brown eyes pleaded with him.
    "Don't scare me, Strudel. I can't have you die on me."
    What could he do to help her?
    He realized what he had to do. He grabbed his phone and punched in the number for the person he least wanted to talk to today.
----
    T he front door to the clinic burst open. It was him. Cassidy couldn't believe it. The cute lawyer who hated dogs was in tears, soaking wet, with his jet black hair glistening with raindrops. He held a little bundle of fur wrapped in a towel.
    "I think she's dying! Help her, please!"
    She took the bundle from him. "Let me see."
    She unwrapped the towel. "Strudel! What happened to her?"
    "Trip dumped her outside when he came to ransack Mrs. Anderson's house."
    "What do you mean, came to ransack her house? Where is she?"
    "In a nursing home. So Trip came by today and took her big-screen TV and a bunch of other stuff, and threw Strudel out in the rain."
    "And you took her in?"
    "She was all wet and scared." He stared at her. "That's a bad bruise on your cheek. What happened to you?"
    "I walked into a door," she said crisply. "So what happened to Mrs. Anderson?"
    "She fell down the stairs last week and broke her leg."
    Cassidy carried Strudel into the exam room, and Clint followed.
    "Her eyes are bright," she said. "Let me take her temperature. You know, she doesn't look bad, just a bit skinny. What made you think she was dying?"
    "She threw up. Over and over. And then she cried."
    She felt gently along Strudel's rib cage. "No broken bones." She listened to her heart. "Normal heartbeat. When did she start throwing up?"
    "A while ago. I had fed her, and she fell asleep, and then she started throwing up."
    "What did you feed her?"
    "Milk."
    "Milk? That might make her throw up."
    "Well, I didn't know what to feed her. I don't know anything about dogs."
    "Right. You said you hated them. And now you're crying because you think she's dying."
    "I'm not crying. I have allergies." He sniffed loudly to