Free Wishes and Stitches by Rachael Herron

table-height filing cabinet couldn’t hurt, could it?
    â€œHere,” Bruno cleared the space and put down the paper. Naomi laid Miss Idaho down, her tiny sides heaving and tears leaking from her eyes.
    She pried the small mouth open, grateful that Miss Idaho didn’t seem inclined to bite. Naomi recognized Mrs. Archer from walks—she had two other dogs identical to this one, and one of them had once gone for Naomi’s ankle. If she hadn’t jumped into the rose bush next to the credit union, it would’ve gotten her. Instead, she’d received an undeserved stern shake of the head from Mrs. Archer and two puncture wounds from the rose bush.
    Naomi couldn’t see anything in the dog’s mouth.
    â€œCan you pull it out?” Mrs. Archer bobbled up and down next to her.
    â€œI can’t risk pushing it in farther.”
    Heimlich, then? As on an infant, with chest thrusts? Naomi risked a glance at Bruno. Staid, solemn Bruno, who never laughed at work, had the corners of his mouth tucked, and his eyes danced with what looked like mirth.
    Only way to know was to try. Naomi fitted her thumb just below the wriggling dog’s sternum, put her other thumb on top of it, and pushed.
    Nothing.
    One more time she pressed firmly, and the small piece of bone flew out, smacking Naomi wetly on the forehead before it dropped to the floor, and she was blasted by a sudden rush of fetid dog breath. “Oh, wow. Your dog could use some of those Greenies. Her breath is not quite . . . fresh.”
    Miss Idaho leaped into Mrs. Archer’s open arms and began licking her face. “You saved her!”
    â€œI did.” Naomi grinned. “Another happy ending.” Squirting liquid soap onto a wet paper towel, she prepped to remove the dog slime from her forehead.
    Someone behind her clapped. “Well done,” said a low voice that sent a quick shock of electricity up her spine.
    Rig Keller.
    Shit .
    He stood at the swinging door, grinning as if he were a kid about to get on a roller coaster. Naomi had to concentrate on not rubbing off her mascara as she finished cleaning up.
    â€œI apologize: you were busy when I came in and I didn’t want to disturb the lifesaving. I didn’t know this was what I’d signed up for, but I gotta tell you, I approve.” He filled the doorway with his broad shoulders—how had she not noticed him coming in?
    â€œWhat, this? Just another day in the office,” said Naomi while drying her brow with another paper towel. She was relieved her voice sounded even. “We just saved a baby.”
    Bruno nodded with her, solemn again.
    Naomi went on, “Mrs. Archer’s baby. A real beauty queen, too. A tiny, hairy human baby who suffers from . . . lupidexederma, a most challenging skin condition. Also, advanced gingivitis.”
    Mrs. Archer frowned. “Will my insurance cover this?”
    As Bruno took a relieved-looking Mrs. Archer by the elbow and steered her firmly through the swinging door, Naomi said, “I’m sure it will. We’ll just bill them directly so you won’t have to worry about it.”
    There. That was taken care of. Naomi blew a curl out of her face. Now there was just the man to deal with.
    Rig came forward, his hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you again, Doc.”
    â€œNaomi, please.” That was it, it came out just the right way. Casually. Yes, they could stand here and talk as if they hadn’t . . .
    She stopped her thought. His hand was huge and cool to the touch and he shook her still-damp one firmly, with just the right professional level of pressure.
    He put his hands back in his jeans pockets and smiled. “Naomi.”
    Jeans? He wasn’t planning on actually working today, was he? Although she had to admit that he looked better in jeans than most men looked in expensive suits. The way they clung to his wide, well-muscled thighs. . .
    â€œCoffee!