Page 8 of Rage's Heart

I spun around to find a woman a few feet behind me, hands on her hips like she was ready to go twelve rounds with me.

My lips twitched at the thought. I was a big fucking guy and she thought she was tall, she was no match for a grown man.

I took a moment to rake my eyes up her body. She was a hot little number from what I could see. Tight navy-blue scrubs, blonde hair twisted up in one of those messy buns chicks always threw together when they didn’t give a shit. Even with nothing but the streetlights to light her face, there was no missing the piss and vinegar in her narrowed eyes.

The chub in my jeans deflated. Bitchy women were not my thing.

“The fuck is your problem?” I shot back.

“My problem?” She scoffed, posture stiff as she pointed toward the dog. “What are you doing to that dog?”

My lips turned down. Was she?—?

Jesus fucking Christ. She sure as fuck was. “I’m trying to help him, Nurse Ratched.”

Her steps faltered. The angry blue eyes locked onto mine, turned wary, like maybe walking up on a guy putting a fucking chock hold on Lassie wasn’t the smartest move. In case you’re wondering. That’s not smart. Don’t do that.

“She’s not yours?”

I snorted. “No.” I flicked my gaze over her scrubs meaningfully. “But I need another set of hands, so instead of standing there running your mouth and acting like a bitch, get over here and help.”

A delicate flush crept up her neck. She was flustered not that’d I’d called her out. It’d be cute if she hadn’t accused me of hurting a defenseless animal.

Her head tipped to the side as she eyed me curiously. For half a second, I thought she was about to spit some more bullshit at me just on principle.

Her eyes flicked from me to the dog, something shifting behind them. Then, with a heavy breath and her jaw locking like she was mentally cussing herself out, she moved closer and dropped down beside me.

Huh? Hadn’t expected that but I wasn’t going to turn down the help ‘cause I was way out of my depths with Fido.

Like a switch being flipped, she was all business now. The loose strands of her blonde hair fell forward around her face as she began assessing the dog.

“Poor thing,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “He’s badly underweight, probably dehydrated too.” Her fingers skimmed gently down the dog’s ribcage, pressing lightly in certain spots. “I don’t feel any broken bones, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hurt. He could have internal injuries.”

I barely heard a word she was saying.

With her focus solely on her patient, I had a chance to actually look at her.

And Christ Almighty, she was beautiful.

Not just beautiful but gorgeous in a way I wasn’t used to.

This bitch was the kind of woman who didn’t rely on makeup and tight dresses to turn heads. Her beauty was flawless. Effortless. Natural.

High cheekbones. Pouty pink lips. A dusting of freckles across her nose that made her look younger than she probably was.

The woody in my jeans returned in full force. I was a sucker for freckles.

Even dressed in dark blue scrubs, she had a body that made a man sit up and take notice. Tall and lithe, with curves in all the right places. I let my gaze linger long enough to take in the way her scrubs hugged her ass and dipped at her waist.

Fuck.

It had been a long fucking time since I felt a kick of real attraction from just looking at a bitch without having her naked body under me.

I forced myself to focus as she examined the dog’s paws, hissing softly when she got a closer look at the damage.

“This guy’s been through hell,” she said, shaking her head. “His paws are all torn up. If he has owners, they’ve been neglecting him, but I seriously doubt that he does. I think he’s been on his own for a while.”

I didn’t know why that pissed me off so much. But something about the way the dog’s ribs poked out beneath his mangy black fur made my teeth grind.

---