Page 22 of Black Moon

11

Linden

Claudia and I made an appointment the next day, to get together and plan how to move forward. Like, a serious, rational plan. I wanted to be the alpha my pack needed, not play at politics, kissing babies and handing out buttons with my name on them.

I mean, not that I wasn’t willing to kiss a baby or two, but I preferred it to be in the execution of my job as pack doctor, or in a friendly way when meeting up with friends who had babies, not as a creepy political ploy.

Was that even a real thing politicians did?

It didn’t matter, I wasn’t one. So instead, I checked in with the clinic, told Skye to take the morning working on his website since we didn’t have any appointments until the late afternoon, and planned to spend the day in conference with Claudia. If there was an emergency, Skye could call.

So I left him to his writing in the clinic and slipped back over to the house—it was convenient working right next door to your family home—to change into jeans and a T-shirt. No reason to wear my work clothes for a talk with Claudia. She’d make fun of me for being so uptight.

“Hey, Gingersnap,” I called when I got back to the front door, pulling down the leash hanging next to the hall tree. “You want to go for a walk?”

The family dog had a flap in the back door, so she didn’t strictly need to be walked. But sometimes she liked to go out anyway, if only because we tended to run into people when we walked, so she could beg for pets and attention.

Sure enough, I heard her flap rustle, and a few seconds later she came skidding around the corner and down the hall, almost crashing into my legs when she couldn’t get traction to stop on the slick wood floor. Ginger was a shelter mutt who looked to be some combination of Dalmatian and Australian sheep dog—spotted, a little shaggy, and with piercing blue eyes. Don’t ask me why Rowan named a black and white dog Gingersnap. He was a teenager at the time, and they’re weird.

She danced as I reached down to clip the leash onto her collar. “We’re just going to see Claudia. Don’t get too excited.”

But no, Ginger loved Claudia, so if anything, she got even more excited.

“Okay, okay, come on.” I turned and opened the door, and thankfully she didn’t drag me behind her. I mean, yes, I’m strong enough that I could stop her, but I’m never going to willingly choke my dog, even if the other option is to let myself be dragged a little.

Just a few minutes later, we were heading up the sidewalk toward Claudia and Birch’s house. As I turned onto the walk to their porch, the front door opened and the beautiful guy from The Cider House came out—the reporter—followed by Claudia.

Our eyes met, and that, of course, was the moment when Gingersnap caught sight of Claudia behind him and went nuts. She took off running, the previously slack leash slipped right off my hand, and off she went.

She shoved straight past him, throwing herself at Claudia, barking joyously.

The guy went down like a bowling pin, and tumbled to the bottom of the stairs, landing on his butt on the sidewalk.

Ginger, naturally, didn’t even notice. Claudia bit her lip and gave me her best “oh shit” face. So it was on me.

I mean, it had been my dog, after all.

Dammit. That was the last time I brought the dog out while we had a stranger in town.

I took a deep breath, catching just a hint of his ridiculously tempting scent, and headed in. “I’m so sorry. She’s not usually such a menace. Are you okay?”

He turned his face up to look at me, the bright afternoon sun hitting it and making him glow like he was made of gold, or lit from within. It almost took my breath away. His blue eyes, washed pale by the light, blinked up at me, slightly dazed. “Did someone get the license plate of that truck?” His voice was light, joking, not angry, so I breathed a sigh of relief.

I held my hands out to him, chuckling. “She’s Claudia’s biggest fan, and you’d think she was part greyhound, the way she gets tunnel vision when she catches sight of her.”

His generous lips turned up in a smile as he took my hand, but as he started to lift up, he winced and let himself fall back down to the pavement. Then he reached down to cradle his ankle with both hands.

Shit.

I knelt in front of him, started to reach out, then stopped to look up at him. “Is it okay if I check it out?”

He nodded, taking his hands away and giving me room to work. As gently as possible, I took the ankle in hand and checked for damage. I didn’t feel anything broken, and there wasn’t immediate swelling, but it would be for the best to get him down to the clinic and make sure. We could take a quick X-ray to make sure there were no hairline fractures or small broken bones.

It was only a couple blocks back to the clinic.

I glanced up at Claudia, still getting Gingersnap under control. “Can you keep Ginger for a bit? I think it would be for the best if we go down to the clinic and make sure there’s nothing broken. Ankles are fussy things.”

She waved me off. “Of course. Me and G will be fine. Oh, and Colt, this is Doctor Linden Grove. Linden, this is Colt Doherty, reporter from theWashington Post.” She looked up from the dog, a sly grin crossing her face. “In fact, the two of you should probably have a talk. He’s looking into how we’re dealing with the Condition. You’re just the guy he needs.”

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