Page 9 of Throw Down

Derek didn’t reply. A muscle flexed in his jaw, just beneath his earlobe.His gaze was fixed on the puppy, and he just kept repeating the same firm, robotic stroke.She seemed to respond to his touch.Her eyes opened and she turned her head to give his thumb a grateful lick.

“Princess,” Briar decided, just to test his reaction.“If you don’t tell me her name, I’m going to call her Princess.”

Derek’s head jerked up, both eyebrows lifting in surprise.

Briar met his gaze placidly, daring him to protest.“You’re not keeping her anyway, right?So, what’s the problem?”

“No problem,” he said stiffly.

He knew exactly what Briar was doing.They both did. Just like they both understood how much he loved this dog, even if he refused to admit it for some inane reason.

“Good.”Briarreached out to scratch behind her ears, accidentally brushing Derek’s scarred knuckles.A warning tingle rushed into his fingers, but he managed to eke out a smile as he tucked his hands in his pockets and said, “Let’s make it PrincessSparkles.I’ll put it on herpaperwork.”

For a brief moment, he thought he caught a strange gleam in Derek’s eyes.Not amusement. Not even something brushing up againstamusement.But something that might have wanted to be a twinkle—maybe—if it had been allowed tolive.It died too quick to besure.

“Do whatever you want,” Derek saidflatly.He stepped away, turning his back on them both. “I’ll put my credit card onfile.Fix her up…and then find somewhere for her togo.I never wanted her in the firstplace.”

Chapter Four

BRIAR

The air was fresh and strangely peaceful when Briar woke the next morning.The storm had stopped sometime during the night, and the streets still had that rich, wet concrete smell that he loved.

The puppy's blood panel had come back with signs of acute poisoning, and they hadn't stabilized her until the wee hours before dawn.Nate said she'd probably gotten into a spill down at the scrapyard where Derek worked.It was surprisingly common and almost impossible to avoid in a place like that.Less than a teaspoon of ethylene glycol was enough to start shutting down the kidneys of a dog that size.But she would pull through; Nate seemed confident of it.

Still, Briar didn't think he'd ever forget the look of guilt on Derek's face.He loved that dog; there was no question in Briar's mind about that.So why did he insist on giving her up?Did he think he was fooling anyone?Or was he just trying to fool himself?

It gnawed at the back of Briar's mind like an itch he couldn't scratch.He tossed and turned in bed for hours and woke with a heavy head and a tickle in the back of his throat.As he brushed his teeth and poured himself a breakfast of marshmallow cereal with nearly expired milk, he resented his flighty brain for fixating on something that was none of his business.

Before he left, Derek had tossed his credit card at them and ordered them to do whatever it took.That was all that should matter to Briar.But he still felt unsettled as he locked his apartment and set off for work.

In a town this size, it wasn't much of a burden to be without a vehicle. Sweetwater was barely a speck on a map, and Briar had always preferred walking anyway.At least he wasn’t huffing exhaust on a city freeway. Rush hour wasn't a thing here. Everywhere he looked, something was growing, blooming, and living. The tiny, chittering birds scratching in the wet lawns kept him company.He didn’t know what species they were.Just small, fragile creatures with feathers the color of dead leaves, blissfully searching for insects without a care in the world.

He wondered if they felt as exposed as he did.They weren’t boxed in on all sides by steel and concrete like they would be in the city.There was nowhere to hide. Just him, the birds, and a sky so wide and blue it made him dizzy.

Small towns hit different, and he still wasn’t sure if he liked it.He'd always attracted attention wherever he went.It was an unavoidable consequence of his effervescent personality and loud fashion choices.For the most part, he'd learned to ignore the perplexed and disdainful expressions of the townsfolk.But sometimes...it wore on him.

The air was so crisp that his nose was running by the time he let himself into the clinic.Nate was already there, looking sleepy and slightly puffy as he sorted the controlled substance locker.

“Morning.” Briar sneezed.

Nate’s head cranked around. “You sick?”

“I don’t get sick,” Briar said, hanging his jacket on a hook and adjusting the black fishnet scarf he’d knotted around his neck.It was admittedly a little extra, but it added enough flare to keep him from feeling dull as wallpaper paste in his professional attire.Today he’d chosen a silky gray pullover and black jeans.

“Nice fit,” Nate said, giving his outfit a heavy dose of skeptical side-eye, "but you’re going to regret it.We’ve got ranch calls all day.”

“Aw, crap,” he muttered, stumbling toward the coffee station behind the reception desk.“You owe me compensation for all the pants I've ruined.”

“You could try dressing appropriately,” Nate said wryly.

“Death first!” he exclaimed, selecting a large silver thermos from the cabinet.He filled it almost halfway with strawberry-flavored creamer before dumping coffee on top.

Nate grimaced.

Briar wasn’t sure if Nate's expression was because of his outfit or his drink, so he tested it by locking eyes and slowly raising the cup to his mouth.He took a giant swig and smacked his lips in exaggerated delight.

“God, you’re disgusting.” Nate winced.“That drink is at least sixty percent vegetable oil and sugar.”