Valentino's Cowboy:Brac Village 10

By: Lynn Hagen

Dr. Valentino Prayze was new to Brac Village, only having been there a few months. He was the local vet and loved his work. But when he gets a call from the Lakelands to come look at one of their horses, Valentino finds more than he ever expected.

Abe helped the shifters rescue Cole and Curtis, and knew he couldn’t stay behind and face the wrath of his tribe. After Malcolm agrees to let Abe stay on the ranch, he finds the life isn’t what he had imagined it would be away from his tribe.

He had been passing the time, having a bit of fun, and just plain old lonely when he flirted with the Lakeland men. Now the stakes are high and the flirting actually means something when he realizes that the vet is his mate.

But when he loses his wallet after accidently shimmering into someone's closet, little does he know that the Head Vampire Hunter was the one to find it, and now his sights are set on Abe.

Chapter One

Valentino grabbed the kitten before he could scurry off the table. The little orange furball was quick but his escape was short lived. Valentino’s reflexes were shifter fast. “Not so fast, little buddy. I know, I know. Nobody likes to get shots. But trust me, if you don’t let me poke you, the little worms will start playing on your bongo drums.”

“You have such a way with animals,” Mrs. Turnham replied as she gave Valentino a warm smile. “Mr. Bubbles has quite the personality and sometimes it’s hard to calm him down.”

Valentino would be feisty as hell too if someone had named him Mr. Bubbles. Poor cat was going to have a complex when he got older—especially since Mrs. Turnham’s hair matched the color of her kitten’s fur.

Ah, well. There was nothing he could do about the poor kitten’s name. The only thing Valentino could do was make sure he stayed healthy. Mr. Bubbles was going to have to see a shrink about the psychological damage Mrs. Turnham was doing. That wasn’t his area of expertise.

“All done.” He gave the kitten a soft stroke on his head before handing him back to his owner. “I’ll see you back here in three weeks. Stop at the counter to get your next appointment from Damon.”

Mrs. Turnham tucked the kitten into his bright pink carrier and left the exam room. Valentino made a few notes in Mr. Bubbles’s chart before walking to the next exam room. He tucked his pen into his lab jacket as he smiled at Terminator, a tan-and-white pit bull. “How are we doing today?”

Terminator gave a low warning growl. He always did whenever Valentino came around. He was a cougar shifter, a cat, and Terminator always thought he could intimidate Valentino. The dog tried every single time.

“You are the only one he growls around,” Mr. Roland, the dog’s owner stated. “He’s usually very passive around the residents here.”

That’s because most of the residents were wolves.

“Maybe because I’m the one who took his balls,” he said in the way of an explanation as he pointed to the exam table. He wasn’t about to tell the human that he and Terminator were having a pissing contest. Valentino wondered when the pit bull was going to learn that he wasn’t going to win. The dog was getting his checkup…by a cat. He took a step back as Mr. Roland heaved Terminator up onto the shiny table.

“I never thought of it that way,” Mr. Roland replied as he gave a slow nod. “I guess it makes sense.”

“Of course it makes sense.” Valentino looked over Terminator’s chart, reading the vitals that were taken by Damon when the pit bull arrived. “He’s gained a little weight but that’s to be expected after being neutered.” Setting the chart down, he began to examine the dog. Terminator growled through the entire examination.

When he tried to examine the surgical scar where the dog’s nuts used to hang, Terminator snapped his head around and Valentino moved out of the way just in time before he was bitten.

“Terminator!” Mr. Roland scolded as he patted the dog on the head. “You’re not allowed to bite the vet.”

Valentino glared at Terminator.

Terminator glared at him.

“He’s fine,” Valentino replied and then smirked at the dog. “He’s just mad because I took away his Friday night freak-athon.”

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