Chapter 43

Desperate to finish the workday, Flynn inspected the abdomen of a Westie who'd come in for a growth check. Last patient on his exam table, and then he could talk Gabby into dinner at his place. Between the dog-fighting ring and her trying to people-orientate the rescued Pitbulls, the past couple days had left him more than a little unnerved. And she was better than any damn therapy.

Gliding his hand up the thoracic exterior, he gently pushed along the edges of the Westie's fatty tumor. Without measuring, it didn't appear to be larger than the last check a couple months ago, but the client's owner was paranoid, so he pulled out his small flex ruler.

He looked at Gabby. "No change in size. Looks good. Does it seem to bother him?" If that were the case, they could surgically remove the mass, but these tumors were non-cancerous and typically caused no issues.