Page 1 of Collars & Kittens
Chapter 1
OLIVIA
My heart pounds as I pick up Agnes, my sweet, fluffy tabby cat. She’s been lethargic since yesterday, and this morning she refused to eat. I’m frightened something is wrong with her, and I know I need to take her to a vet. I moved to Hazy Cove, Oregon a few weeks ago, and while I love this small town, I’m not sure where the closest vet is.
I grab my phone with a shaky hand and do an internet search. A clinic called “Paws and Claws” is only a couple of miles away. Shit, that’s too far to walk.
Before moving here, I didn’t have a car. My manipulative ex-fiancé, Ben, convinced me I shouldn’t drive because I was accident prone, so I relied on public transportation when I lived in Seattle. I bought a used Corolla before the trip, and almost as soon as I drove into town, smoke started coming from under the hood. It’s currently at the local mechanic.
If I didn’t need to carry Agnes, I’d hoof it to the clinic, but I don’t want her to be panicking for the thirty-minute walk. This sweet cat is the only family I have left after my mom died four years ago.
Hazy Cove might be small, but luckily, they have people working for a ride-sharing app most of the time, and I arrange for someone to pick us up. As I gently place Agnes in her carrier, she lets out a pitiful meow, and my heart hurts for her. I wish I could tell her she’ll be okay, but she wouldn’t understand. I coo softly to help soothe her, knowing we’ll both feel better once the vet checks her over.
The sound of a car in the driveway alerts me that our ride has arrived. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before heading out the door. Thefresh ocean breeze rolls over me as soon as I step outside, the salty air crisp and invigorating—if a little chilly. But it doesn’t settle the anxiety churning in my stomach. I clutch Agnes’ carrier close, her soft meows plucking at my heartstrings.
The driver makes small talk on the way to the clinic, and I can tell he’s trying to distract me from my worry. It helps, but I’m glad the ride isn’t long. I haven’t made any friends yet, and I’ve been a little lonely, so any chance I get to talk to someone brings out my rare extroverted side when I’m normally more reserved.
Even with the short time I’ve been here, leaving behind my toxic relationship with Ben feels like the best decision I’ve ever made. He doesn’t know where I am. The only person from my former life who knows is my best friend Sierra, and there’s no way in hell she’d tell him. Coming here was a clean break—one I desperately needed.
Hazy Cove is a small touristy town and is very welcoming. I feel like I’m quickly becoming a part of the community though I haven’t made any close friends yet. The people living here genuinely care about each other, and there’s a sense of camaraderie that I never experienced in Seattle.
I don’t want to leave this town, and the idea of something bad happening to Agnes makes my anxiety level skyrocket. A bigger city would probably have better veterinarians if something is seriously wrong. I try to relax my muscles and focus on my breathing to calm down. Having a panic attack on the drive to the clinic won’t help anything.
Chapter 2
OLIVIA
After getting trapped behind a car going ten miles per hour, we finally arrive at the clinic. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the clinic’s exterior has a rustic charm with its weathered cedar shingles in a soft, silvery hue. The white trim and paw print sign above the entrance creates a cozy and welcoming scene.
A bell jingles when I walk in, and the air is infused with a pleasant lavender scent. A friendly older woman behind the desk welcomes me. “Hi there, you must be the new yoga teacher! How can I help you today?”
Yeah, everyone knows who I am even if I haven’t met them yet. I hold up the carrier. “My cat, Agnes, isn’t feeling well, and I’d like to see the vet as soon as possible.”
The woman gives us a sympathetic smile and checks her computer. “Dr. Harrington can see our poor baby in about thirty minutes. Will that work?”
I nod, grateful that they can see Agnes so soon. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you.”
The woman’s smile is radiant. “Great. Here’s some paperwork to fill out, and make yourself comfortable. We’ve got water and snacks if you need anything.”
She hands me a clipboard with a form on it, and I sit in the waiting room while I jot down Agnes’ information. My sick kitty is twelve years old now, a rescue I adopted in high school. She’s the most important creature in my life, especially after losing my mom. My father was killedin a motorcycle accident when I was a baby, so it was just me and my mom facing the world together for most of my life. The thought of possibly losing Agnes fills me with dread, and I refuse to contemplate it. The vet better be able to make her healthy again.
When I’m finished with the paperwork, I turn it in at the front desk with a polite smile, trying to hide my inner turmoil. The woman takes it from me and points to a door off to the side. “If you’d like to wait in the exam room, it’s right through there. Dr. Harrington will be with you shortly.”
I thank her and pick up the carrier. As I lug Agnes into the room, the antiseptic smell of cleaner greets me. The room is spotless, which instantly puts me more at ease. I’d never trust a clinic if the rooms were dirty.
There’s a long metal table that I set the carrier on and open its door so Anges can crawl out and sniff around. She stares at me defiantly and doesn’t move, so I sit in the chair next to the table, bouncing my leg as I try to be patient. Who is this Dr. Harrington? I imagine an old guy in his sixties who’s living the quiet life in a coastal town, keeping the local pets healthy. The thought is oddly comforting. Surely he’ll have years of experience.
As I wait for him to arrive, I listen to songs on a local radio station piped through speakers. The music isn’t loud, and my mind wanders back to what brought me here: escaping the toxicity of my past relationship. Ben was controlling and manipulative, slowly isolating me from friends over the five years we were together until I only had Sierra left. Ben wanted me to be his successful trophy wife—a hotshot lawyer and arm candy for his political aspirations. He mentioned more than once that we’d be a power couple, as if that was the purpose of our relationship.
I don’t know why I stayed with him for as long as I did, especially since he often hinted that my family being from Argentina helped me with school and in my career. As if I didn’t earn my achievements throughhard work and intellect. Yep, I should have dumped his ass as soon as he started undermining me like that.
Ben and I started fighting more, but I don’t know what the final straw was. One morning I woke up and the fog in my brain had lifted. Every word out of Ben’s mouth was condescending and controlling. I was just done. I wanted out, and something told me he’d try to make me stay, so I left a note that I was leaving. I haven’t seen him since, and I’m happy to keep it that way.
I dropped out of law school, and Sierra helped me find an apartment for a couple of months, but I was living in fear of running into Ben anytime I went out. When Sierra had the idea that I could come to Hazy Cove and help her sister, Naomi, who owned the yoga studio and wanted to take maternity leave, it seemed like the ideal solution. I’d worked as a yoga instructor during college, so it didn’t take long to certify as a trainer in Oregon.
Now my life is peaceful, and I’m finally able to be my true self—once I figure out who that is. I’m twenty-four years old, so I’ve still got time. The little cottage I rented is a few blocks from the beach, and I’ve decorated it in a way that makes me happy—rainbow colors and fluffy pillows. The best part about having my own place is that I was able to put my two stuffies on my couch. Ben always made fun of them, so they’ve been packed away in boxes for years, but as soon as I set out Glacia Pawsicle the polar bear and Shivers McFlap the penguin, it felt like home. Whenever I see them, it makes me happy and confirms I made the right decision to move to Oregon.
The door opens, snapping me to attention, and I stand up as a man looking down at a chart and wearing a white lab coat walks in. Okay, I was totally wrong about the vet being old. He’s probably close to forty, tall and muscular, with a rugged, outdoorsy look. His wavy brown hair is tousled as if he ran his fingers through it, and a dusting of silver at his temples makes him appear distinguished and sexy. My fingers twitch, and I wonder if his hair is soft.
