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Doc Brodie Teaser

I didn’t write a flash fic last week or this week. Mostly because I was immersed in the novella I’m planning to release in early June.

It’s an old short story that I wrote a very long time ago. At some point, I made some tweaks to it, but I hadn’t touched it in almost two years. When I finally dusted it off I realized I had the potential for a great novella and in the past seventeen days, gave one of the main characters a new backstory and motivation, and added 19,987 words to bring it to a grand total of 33,122 words. It’s with my betas now and I will release it on June 10th.

I don’t have a cover yet, but I should be able to make that this week so keep tuned for that.

In the meantime, enjoy this little teaser:

Veterinary clinic. Cute cat during examination by a veterinarian.

Brodie Hall yawned and stretched.  It had been a long, slow night at the vet clinic.  That was a good thing of course—fewer animals in dire need of his help was always a good thing—but he was bored and restless.  He rubbed at his eyes wearily, and resumed typing case notes from his previous shift.  He was nodding off at the computer by the time the tech peered in the office door.

“Hey, you’ve got a patient in exam room one.”

“Thanks, Annie,” he said, standing and stretching.  Sometimes he really hated night shifts at the clinic.  Ambrose Roberts, the clinic director and head veterinarian, would be retiring in the next few years. Brodie had been saving up and he was hopeful that by the time Ambrose was looking for someone to buy the practice, he could afford to. He’d be a hell of a lot busier once that happened, but it would allow him to work a shift that didn’t make him feel like a vampire.

“Nothing critical, I assume?”

“Nah,” she said.  “The cat ate something and is puking.  Her vitals are normal though, and she doesn’t seem to be in distress.  Her owner though … the guy seems pretty worried.  He’s sweet, but panicked.”

Brodie nodded, picturing an elderly, widowed gentleman bringing in the cat he’d owned for years.  He straightened his scrubs and swiped his stethoscope from the desk, draping it around his neck.  Brodie was usually good at calming down worried pet owners, and he figured this guy would be no exception.

The veterinarian snagged the chart from the bin beside the exam room doorway before he went inside.  His breath caught in his throat at the sight in front of him.  Rather than an elderly man, the man in front of him was young. Well, Brodie’s age anyway. Attractive, too, if slightly disheveled; his shirt was on backwards and his dark brown hair stood up on one side.  God, he even had black rimmed geek glasses which were more or less Brodie’s kryptonite.

He sat in a chair next to the exam table, speaking softly to the small gray and white tabby.  She rubbed up against his long-fingered hand, and Brodie suddenly wondered what those fingers would feel like stroking him.

Deciding he was clearly beginning to hallucinate from exhaustion, Brodie pushed down that momentary lapse in professionalism and reached for the kitten.  She tilted her head back as he rubbed his finger against the white fur under her chin.  “You’re a pretty little thing.  Yes, you are,” he crooned.

The cat’s owner lifted his head, his brown eyes meeting Brodie’s and widening.  A blush filled his cheeks, and he jerked back.  Now Brodie could see the fine features of his face, the faint cleft in his chin and the bookish handsomeness. Wow.

Brodie smiled reassuringly at the man. “What’s my patient’s name?”

“Uh, Molly,” the man stammered, licking his lips nervously.

“Well, I’m Doctor Brodie Hall, and I promise, I’ll take great care of Molly for you.”

“Thanks,” he said gratefully.  “Um, I’m Grant Murchison.”

“Nice to meet you, Grant. So, this little girl ate something that disagreed with her, huh?” Brodie asked.

Grant nodded.  “Yeah, I woke up to her throwing up.  I rushed her right over.”

“Any idea what she ate?”

“Uhm.”  He blushed again and lifted a plastic bag out of the paper one on the floor, showing the vet a mangled purple silicone sex toy.

Brodie’s eyes widened as he fought back a smirk.  That was a first.  He cleared his throat before he spoke.  “Is that what I think it is?”

Grant nodded, closing his eyes, as if he was trying to shut out the embarrassing truth.  “Uh, if you think it’s a dildo, then yes, you’d be right.”

“That’s … uh, well, I have to say this is a first for me,” Brodie admitted.

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