Sammy did the only thing she could, executing a flying leap and tackling the dog one foot from the bad-tempered tiger cat.
The dog went pancake-flat under her and then wriggled around to give her face and hair a lick with his giant pink tongue. She swore he was laughing at her as the hissing cat wandered off.
“You big doofus,” she said, getting a firm grip on the dog’s collar.
“My hero,” Jonica said, shimmying out from under the table. Her antlers were around her neck.
“Just another day in veterinary medicine,” Sammy quipped.
“Dr. Ames?” Another tech poked her head in the door. “We’ve got something for you to see in exam room two.”
So much for closing on time. Sammy mentally pushed back her dreams of a shower by half an hour.
“What have we got?” she asked, dumping the remains of her lunch in the trash on the way to the door.
“It’s kind of better if you don’t know in advance.”
There was a crowd in front of the open door to room two. Delighted snickers carried over the yowl of overnight kitty guests and the incessant yapping of Mrs. Chu’s four-pound barking machine.
“What have we got?” Sammy asked, making a beeline for the hand-washing sink in the hallway and praying it wasn’t a serious emergency.
“Don’t tell her,” tittered the receptionist who bore a jolly resemblance to Mrs. Claus in tie-dye.
Whatever was in the room, she’d probably already experienced at some point since veterinary school.
4
She was officially wrong. Inside exam room two, Sammy found one very handsome—married—man, a full-grown goat glaring at him, and three baby goats in holiday pajamas.
“Oh,” she drawled out.
The office staff exploded in laughter, and she promptly closed the door in their faces.
Two of the babies ran around the exam table and took turns leaping onto and off the stainless-steel surface of the exam table. The third, in pink Hanukkah pajamas, was cuddled in the man’s lap.
“Sammy! Thank God!” Jackson Pierce said, rising. The mama goat butted him in the ass with her head.
“What the hell, Jax?” Sammy laughed, grabbing a box of gloves out of Baby Goat #1’s mouth.
“It’s Thor,” he said, gingerly placing the goat on the table. “I think she might have broken her leg. She’s limping.” He sounded like he was near tears. At least until the bigger goat gave him another headbutt. “Knock it off, Clem.”
Clementine, mama goat and Jax’s sworn nemesis, changed tactics and nibbled at the pocket of his jeans.
Sammy swallowed the laughter that bubbled up and started her physical exam of the pajamaed baby goat. “Clem, if you behave yourself and get your kids out of the sink, you can have treats,” she told the other goat. She’d been Clementine’s vet since taking over the practice from her mother. Now that she thought about it, her mother reminded Sammy a lot of the yellow-eyed cantankerous goat.
With the promise of treats hanging in the balance, Clementine coaxed her able-bodied babies out of the sink and into a corner.
“I hate you,” Jax told the goat.
Clementine grinned evilly at him.
Man and goat had maintained a contentious relationship since she’d appeared on the family farm years ago. Clementine was friendly to everyone except Jax. However, they’d formed a tentative truce when the goat—that the entire family assumed was just getting fat—broke into Jax and Joey’s house and had three babies on his side of the bed. The babies ignored their mother’s hatred of the man and followed him everywhere.
“Is it broken?” Jax worried. “Is it caprine arthritic encephalitis? Are her feet rotting?”
“Get a hold of yourself and stop Googling shit, Jax,” Sammy said, gently lifting the goat onto her feet to stand on the table. “Can you walk for me, Lady Thor?”
The little goat’s tail flicked happily as she limp-skipped toward Jax at the end of the table.
“See? It’s broken, isn’t it?”
The poor guy looked like he was going to be sick. Thor nuzzled him and playfully bit at the string on his hoodie.
“It’s going to be fine, goat dad.” Sammy gently felt down the goat’s front leg to confirm the diagnosis. “It’s just a kid sprain. She should be all healed in three or four days. It happens a lot with baby goats. Their bones are still soft.”
Clementine grabbed Jax’s sleeve and pulled hard enough to rip the fabric.
“Relax, you abominable douche. Your kid is going to be fine. You’re sure, right?” He gave Sammy a side eye.
The man was unfairly good-looking and a hugely successful screenwriter. His gorgeous wife, Joey, was a partner in the stables and breeding program at Pierce Acres. Sammy bet they had crazy sex under the Christmas tree when their kids went to bed.
“Right. Listen, I’ll put some tape on Thor’s leg here to help keep it stabilized.” Sammy told him. It wasn’t totally necessary, but it would make Goat Dad Jax feel better. “How are the kids? The human ones,” she added, turning to dig out the vet tape from the drawer.
Jax puffed up with pride as he stroked a hand down Thor’s back. “Reva got into Centenary’s equestrian program.”
“Following in Joey’s riding boots,” she mused, carefully wrapping the fluffy little leg in hot pink tape.
“We’re both secretly hoping she’ll come back and help run the stables when she graduates, but Jojo doesn’t want to ‘pressure her’ into anything.” He made a single air quote with the hand that wasn’t holding the baby goat still. “Caleb’s kicking ass in school. Except for math.”
“Joey said he’s been following Carter around like a puppy on the farm,” Sammy said, finishing off the wrap job and giving the goat a pat on the head.
“Another generation of farmer,” he said proudly.
Pierce Acres was a family farm that raised crops, rescued livestock, and now bred some of the finest horses in the state. The land had also sprouted three very handsome men. Each married now, continuing the circle their parents had started by growing families of their own.
“All set here,” she said, placing Thor on the floor, then raiding the pet treat jar. “A couple of days, and she should be fine. If she’s still limping after Christmas, give me a call, and I’ll come check her out.”
He threw his arms around her. “You’re the best, Sammy.”
“I know,” she said, giving him a squeeze. The Pierce brothers were excellent huggers.
“You smell like cat piss and wet dog,” he whispered.
She sighed. “I know.”
With treats and treatment dispensed, Sammy walked him out to the—thankfully—empty waiting room.
“You didn’t bring this circus in your car, did you?” she asked. Jax drove a sexy vintage Chevy Nova that he treated almost as nicely as his wife and their adopted kids.
He gave her that mischievous grin that had been melting hearts for a few decades now. “I stole Jojo’s SUV. If I can get it back in the next twenty minutes, she’ll never know.”
Sammy found Jax’s delusion adorable. In her experience, a woman always knew when someone stole her vehicle and used it to transport farm animals.