Not That Kind of Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

neighbors were distinctly uncomfortable around Lilith, even the neighbors with dogs of their own. Of course, Bea was willing and able to look after Lilith, but she was often attending the very events Roxanne had to leave home for in the first place.
    Sometimes, Roxanne felt as if she and Lilith were the lepers of the pet world.
    She opened the glass door to a cheerfully tinkling bell and the smiling face of a young woman at the reception desk. The smile quickly disappeared. The woman snatched the desk phone.
    “She’s here,” she whispered, obviously speaking to one of the kennel workers. “Well, excuse me, but somebody has to bring that dog up here!” She slammed down the phone.
    Roxanne took a deep breath. She walked to the desk, credit card already in hand, barely able to look the girl in the eye. “How much extra?” She decided to just cut to the chase.
    The girl let go with a sarcastic laugh. “Well, our six-to-eight-hour doggie day care package is usually $49.95, but considering the fact that we had to call in extra staff, it’s going to be twice that amount.”
    Roxanne’s jaw hung limp. “That’s embezzlement,” she said.
    Suddenly, the door to the kennel slammed open, and Lilith came bounding through with the force of a sled dog solely responsible for pulling a three-hundred-pound fur trapper through twenty-five feet of snow. Unfortunately, the employee in question, slipping and sliding on the vinyl flooring, weighed one twenty, tops.
    “Ring me up,” Roxanne said, handing over her card.
    “You should really try some obedience training,” the counter girl said, swiping the card.
    Roxanne rolled her eyes. Because she refused to repeat Lilith’s Litany of Failure (thrown out of three obedience classes and two behaviorally challenged dog programs) she simply signed the receipt and slid it across the reception counter.
    “In your case, you might want to go right to one of those dog whisperers. I hear they’re supposed to be, you know, the last-chance Texaco for psycho dogs like yours.” The girl looked askance at the now foaming Lilith. “One of our regulars told me about some guy who’s temporarily in the area. Very exclusive. Jennifer Aniston was his client a while back. Supposed to be fabulous. He works out of Celestial Pet. Wait—I think I entered his name in our database.”
    Roxanne grabbed Lilith’s leash and stroked her dog’s short, smooth fur in an attempt to calm her down. She nuzzled her nose into Lilith’s neck and whispered softly to her, all while backing up toward the exit. Her plan was to be out in the parking lot by the time the girl found what she was looking for.
    “Hey, wait! I got it! Oh! And our customer said this dude is smokin’ hot, which is always a nice bonus. Hey, maybe I should call him myself!” She giggled.
    Roxanne was at the door.
    “The guy’s name is Eli Gallagher. Don’t you want his number?”
    “I already have his number,” Roxie said, escaping into the parking lot.
    She cried during the entire twenty-minute drive between the kennel and her house, hating that she’d fallen into one of her black holes of self-pity but knowing there was nothing she could do about it now. It always took several hours to dig herself out of one of her emotional recessions.
    As if on cue, the pity-party remix began spinning in her head, DJ Miz Fortune at the mike.
    It all started when Millie died. My collie had been with me since middle school. She was my best friend, my one constant.
    Then, Raymond showed his true colors. I loved him and he lied to me, played me, and never respected me.
    The next two weeks were pure hell. I find out I’m pregnant. Before I can even catch my breath, I wake up in the middle of the night with cramps, blood dripping down my legs, and the baby is gone.
    Enter Lilith. I adopt a behaviorally challenged dog no one likes.
    Hello, joblessness! The paper cans me because I won’t shut down the Web site, which is just an excuse. Firing me means