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The club was going to look into them. At least, he had asked Bull to check them out, and so far, nothing. He and Bull always had that kind of relationship, and at moments like this it pissed him off. They rarely saw eye to eye, most of the time because Grant believed Bull had a stick up his ass, and Bull thought he was irresponsible. None of that was a lie.
Grant had a history of partying, being the wild animal and all that, but he was changing. He’d proven time and time again that he was good for the club. Okay, so there were a few times he was an asshole. Not his fault. He couldn’t help it. Bull pissed him off and he just reacted. But, he was more than willing to give his life for the club and for his brother. That wasn’t going to change.
Arriving at the practice, he saw there were only two other cars parked in the lot. Hopefully, they were Maddie’s and Andy’s cars.
He parked his truck, then went to the back and had to pull Wanda into his arms and carry her across the cold parking lot. The front door wasn’t open.
“Fuck!” he growled in annoyance, and kicked at the base of the door. He did so repeatedly until he saw Aria. She frowned at him and then saw the fur baby in his arms, and she immediately opened the doors.
“Mr. Reynolds,” she said. “Is this Wanda?”
“Yes, and how many times do I have to tell you to call me fucking Grant.”
“Well, fucking Grant, it is rude of me to call you that.”
He would have laughed any other time. Aria never swore, at least he hadn’t heard her do so before. She certainly wouldn’t say anything in front of customers and had even on occasion asked him to be more polite. He found it so cute when she asked him politely to be that way. So fucking adorable.
Aria Taylor was a beautiful woman. It was the blonde hair. No, it wasn’t the blonde hair. It was the … curves.
His teeny, tiny little secret, one he would never tell Bull or anyone else about. Grant gritted his teeth and stopped those memories from building. The past was firmly in the fucking past, and he wasn’t going to allow them to resurface. He hadn’t thought about his pop in years.
“What’s wrong with Wanda?” Aria asked, stepping out of the way so he could pass.
“I have no fucking clue. Trust me, I wouldn’t have come here if I knew what was wrong with her. I went to the kennels like I do all the time, and she was just … like this. So resigned and reserved. Her tail won’t wag. I need to see the vet.”
“Andy’s here. Let me go and get her.”
Grant wasn’t taking no for an answer, so as Aria made her way toward the vet, he went straight into one of the exam rooms and laid Wanda on the table.
“I’ve got you, girl. You don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got you.”
He wouldn’t let her go.
Seconds later Andy was in the room. Like so many other times, she looked disapproving, but he didn’t give a fuck what was going through the vet’s mind. The dog was what mattered.
She asked all the usual questions and then took her time taking Wanda’s temperature and checking her over. By the end of it, Andy shook her head.
“What the fuck is that? There’s nothing wrong with Wanda. She was a perfectly healthy dog. Don’t just shake your head like you don’t have a fucking clue. Do something.” He did not like this pain that filled his chest or his gut. He didn’t give a fuck about the dog. They meant nothing to him, and hell no, he wasn’t going to cry. Crying was for fucking pussies.
“No son of mine will ever shed fucking tears.”
Grant stared at Andy and sighed.
“She is sad,” Andy said. “Physically, she’s more than fine, but it happens to some dogs at shelters for a long period of time—even though I know your kennels are not a shelter and you take care of them. Wanda is clearly miserable. She wants company, a best friend.”
“So … there’s nothing I can do?”
“Can you adopt her?” Andy asked.
Grant opened his mouth and closed it. There was no reason he couldn’t adopt her. Maddie and the guys were always checking out applicants, but the dogs at the shelter had been impossible to rehome, so they were waiting for their forever homes.
“Er, you mean like take her home with me?”
“Yes. If Wanda improves, then it’s down to the shelter, and she’s needing a little extra care. Maybe a foster family or something. If she doesn’t improve, then please bring her back in and I’ll conduct more tests and see if I can find something.”
“Can’t you do those tests now?”
“I try not to put the dogs through unnecessary testing when I don’t believe they will help. I don’t think they will help in Wanda’s case.”
