Page 234 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

I don't ask questions first. There's time for that later.

I take the dog from his arms.

"Follow me."

I lay the dog on the exam table and run my hands along his abdomen. Too distended. Too tight.

My stomach drops.

"What's his name?" I ask.

"Ranger." His voice is flat. Distant. Like he's already somewhere else in his head.

"Okay." I keep my voice steady, matter-of-fact. "What did he eat today?"

He blinks. Looks at me.

"Same thing I give him every day. Dry kibble, morning and night. Half a cup of broth over it. Nothing different."

"Any treats? Anything off the ground or around the house?"

He thinks. "No. Nothing."

I grab the phone and call Pam. She answers on the first ring.

"I need you. Now." I give her thirty seconds of detail and hang up.

When I glance back at the man, he's watching me with that same tight jaw. Hands at his sides. Completely still. But his eyes give him away.

He feels helpless.

I recognize it. I’ve seen that look before. The people who can handle anything, until they can’t.

"Sir." I wait until he looks at me. "I'm going to do everything I can for Ranger. Everything."

Something shifts in his face. Not relief. Not yet.

But just enough.

Pam arrives.

We move fast after that. Decompression, prep, anesthesia. She works beside me without a word, handing instruments before I ask, moving like she's done this a hundred times.

It's bloat. GDV. Serious and fast-moving, but treatable if you catch it in time.

We caught it.

Two hours later, Ranger is stable. Color returning. Breathing steady.

I strip off my gloves and step into the waiting area.

The man is still there in the exact same spot, back to the wall like it's the only way he knows how to hold himself upright.

When he sees me, something in his face changes.

Just enough to show he's been waiting on this moment like its life or death.

"He's stable," I say. "We caught it in time."