Animal Instincts (Gilded Knights Series Book 3) Read online

  Animal Instincts

  GILDED KNIGHTS SERIES BOOK 3

  Emilia Finn

  ANIMAL INSTINCTS

  By: Emilia Finn

  Copyright © 2021. Emilia Finn

  Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd.

  Cover Design: Amy Queue

  Editing: Bird’s Eye Books

  Photographer: Golden Czermak

  ISBN: 978 1 922 623 058

  This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy.

  To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of Emilia Finn’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  Contents

  Also by Emilia Finn

  Looking To Connect?

  ANIMAL INSTINCTS

  1. First day on the job…

  2. Beckett

  3. Tabby

  4. Beckett

  5. Tabitha

  6. Tabitha

  7. Beckett

  8. Tabitha

  9. Tabitha

  10. Tabby

  11. Beckett

  12. Tabby

  13. Beckett

  14. Tabby

  15. Beckett

  16. Tabby

  17. Beckett

  18. Tabby

  19. Tabby

  20. Beckett

  21. Tabby

  22. Beckett

  The Real Epilogue

  Also by Emilia Finn

  To not judging a book by it’s cover

  Also by Emilia Finn

  (in reading order)

  The Rollin On Series

  Finding Home

  Finding Victory

  Finding Forever

  Finding Peace

  Finding Redemption

  Finding Hope

  The Survivor Series

  Because of You

  Surviving You

  Without You

  Rewriting You

  Always You

  Take A Chance On Me

  The Checkmate Series

  Pawns In The Bishop’s Game

  Till The Sun Dies

  Castling The Rook

  Playing For Keeps

  Rise Of The King

  Sacrifice The Knight

  Winner Takes All

  Checkmate

  Stacked Deck - Rollin On Next Gen

  Wildcard

  Reshuffle

  Game of Hearts

  Full House

  No Limits

  Bluff

  Seven Card Stud

  Crazy Eights

  Eleusis

  Dynamite

  Busted

  Gilded Knights (Rosa Brothers)

  Redeeming The Rose

  Chasing Fire

  Animal Instincts

  Pure Chemistry

  Inamorata

  The Fiera Princess

  The Fiera Ruins

  Rollin On Novellas

  (Do not read before finishing the Rollin On Series)

  Begin Again – A Short Story

  Written in the Stars – A Short Story

  Full Circle – A Short Story

  Worth Fighting For – A Bobby & Kit Novella

  Looking To Connect?

  Website: www.emiliafinn.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/EmiliaBFinn/

  Newsletter: https://bit.ly/2YB5Gmw

  Email: [email protected]

  The Crew: https://www.facebook.com/groups/therollincrew/

  Did you know you can get a FREE book? Click here for Bry and Nelly’s story: BookHip.com/DPMMQM

  ANIMAL INSTINCTS

  GILDED KNIGHTS SERIES BOOK 3

  EMILIA FINN

  1

  First day on the job…

  Job interviews are never any fun, but I swear, I’ve never been subjected to one quite so strange in my life.

  This morning, I awoke to my seven a.m. alarm with a smile on my face and the confidence that today is going to be my day. With my hard-earned and deeply loved animal science degree framed on my wall, and a faux-leather briefcase sitting by the front door—a gift from my sweet big sister, Jen—I showered and chugged coffee while hot water pounded against aching, post-move muscles.

  In record time, I swung out of the shower and into my power suit. Five minutes more, and I had my hair tied back in a dignified ponytail; a few minutes after that, my comfortable shoes were on, and I was out the door…

  For a nine o’clock interview.

  This would all be fine if I lived in, say, Seattle, where an hour commute would be reasonable. But nope. This new town is the size of a strip mall in Seattle, which means a five-minute drive no matter where I’m going, and if I try to prolong that, the single other car on the road will honk at me for moving too slow.

  And so, I found myself with too much time on my hands, and too little common sense to know I should have simply stayed home and watched an episode of trashy TV. Instead, I arrived on the doorstep of Lakeside Animal Hospital with ninety minutes to spare, and though they were open—or at least, there was a single truck parked in the lot out front—I couldn’t bring myself to knock and appear like a complete weirdo.

  I’m eager, for sure, and I may have applied for a position in administration, even with my vast experience in the industry, but the sad fact is, no clinic in a hundred-mile radius is looking to hire a new vet. This is the closest I can get for now, but soon, the good folks at Lakeside are certain to see how competent I am, and I’m sure, in a month of being employed by the small practice, they’ll be begging me to divert my attentions to something a little more worthy.

  It’s a good plan, of course, and all I have to work with since leaving my previous position, well over a thousand miles from here.

  With ninety minutes of spare time comes the foolish idea that I should walk to Main Street and grab a coffee to see me through until it’s time to meet my future boss. It’s a short walk, a sunny morning, and I have job interview jitters to walk off anyway. And so, with that in mind and a pep in my step—because, duh, the job is mine the moment they open their eyes and meet me—I make the short trek into town.

  This is where my misfortune begins.

  Isn’t it a well-known fact that the early bird gets the worm? I was early! I pride myself on my promptness, and my ability to multi-task and coordinate a dozen things at once would make even the most sought-after wedding planner envious. So ninety minutes should be loads of time to walk three blocks, get coffee, and walk back.

  But I failed to factor in the line of patrons inside the coffee shop, the small-town slow movements
of a round woman in her sixties or seventies filling those orders, and the incessant need of all those who arrived before me to ask the woman—Sheridan is her name—about how her dozen grandbabies are doing, so by the time I escape the little shop with my coffee in hand, my watch reads 8:47a.m., and I’m forced to run.

  Run! With a lukewarm coffee in one hand, and the briefcase I spent entirely too long stroking last night in the other.

  By the time I arrive back at Lakeside, cars pack the lot, most of them double-parking others in, and when I push the heavy glass door to head inside, someone on the inside thinks to exit at the same time.

  My face and the glass collide with a squelchy slam until my lipstick—a decoration I never typically wear—smooshes against the glass pane, and my hardly touched coffee explodes all over my crisp, white shirt.

  Warm liquid trickles along my torso, between my breasts, and slides down into my underwear. “Oh my god.” Stumbling back a step, I glance down as mud-brown liquid soaks through my shirt. “Oh god.” My hands shake. “Oh no.”

  “Oh my gosh!” A loud, bubbling, tittering voice scratches away at my brain. A second after that, talon-like nails scratch my arms as a woman an easy few years younger than me grabs on and holds me close. “I’m so sorry!” She’s louder than Janice from Friends. Louder! How is that possible? “Was that my fault?”

  “Um…” My heart thunders as the time clicks over to nine. I’m officially late for my job interview, but instead of being in there, impressing them with my education and skill in an examination room, I’m standing outside in an outfit that is moist, warm, and an unfortunate color. Add in the stickiness I feel on my cheek, and when I press my fingertips to the area and come away with red—lipstick, not blood—I whimper at the mess I’ve become. “I don’t… I’m…”

  “I can’t believe I hit you,” Janice chatters. “I was in such a rush to get out, I wasn’t looking.”

  “I mean… I guess was in a rush too.” Lifting my hands higher, my lips quiver at the exploded coffee cup, the split bottom from the sheer force of the door, and glancing down again, at the moisture soaking through my navy pants. “It looks like I’m peeing mud.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Janice exclaims. “I’ve completely destroyed your outfit. Can I help you somehow?”

  I study this woman; she stands three inches taller than me, at least, though that may have something to do with her skyscraper heels. She wears a skirt that shows off an intriguing birthmark high on her thigh, and a top similar to mine… but several sizes smaller, and with far fewer buttons being utilized.

  “Uh…”

  “I’d offer to swap shirts. But I… uh…” She stares at my pitifully small chest and grits her teeth. “I think we have different needs.”

  “It’s…” I sigh and look back down at my shirt. “It’s fine. There’s nothing to be done about it. I really should get inside, my—”

  “Can I bring you a new outfit?” she offers. “Or a trench coat? Wet wipes?”

  “No, it’s f—”

  “Listen, my name’s Janice.”

  Stunned, I pause in my attempt to shake the coffee from my skin. “You’re shittin’ me.”

  She stops fussing too and tilts her head. “I’m sorry?”

  “Your name is honestly Janice?”

  “Uh…” Her voice lifts an octave or two. “Sure. Why is that so strange?”

  I shouldn’t ask. I shouldn’t be so unkind. But it’s right there!

  “Have you ever seen Friends? The TV show.”

  Janice shakes her head. Slowly, as though perhaps I’m the slow one. “Never heard of it.”

  “What? Jennifer Aniston?”

  She narrows her eyes. “Who?”

  “Oh come on!” Shaking my head, I step around the twenty-one-year-old Janice, who may or may not be too young to know of the other Janice, then I hand my destroyed cup to her. “I have to go. I have an interview in…” I look at my watch and groan. “Three minutes ago.”

  “Oh, don’t sweat it.” Janice is too bubbly. Too energetic. Too friendly. “You have loads of time before he gets to you anyway.”

  “He… what? I’m scheduled to be seen at nine.”

  “Lots of applicants,” she singsongs. “If you want to commiserate later or anything, I’ll be around Main Street. There’s a diner there. Maybe we can get lunch or something.”

  “Commiserate? Oh, no, I…”

  “I want to make amends for ruining your outfit,” she hurries on. “It’s, uh…” She looks me up and down once more. “Not my cup of tea. Or coffee,” she lifts my crushed cup and laughs. “But just because it’s not how I dress doesn’t mean I get to destroy it without being sorry.”

  “What’s wrong with my outfit?” I glance down and study what was once a sharply ironed pleat in my pants, and a shirt that was whiter than a Colgate smile. “I meticulously planned this outfit for today.”

  “Oh, well…” Janice grins. “Who am I to judge? You’re here for the administration job?”

  “Yeah.” And I had no clue there would be more interviews than mine. “You too?”

  “Oh sure,” she snickers. “Had to give it my best shot.”

  “And you…” Short skirt. Double-D push-up bra. “You don’t think you’ll get it?”

  “Nah, I don’t think I got it. But I got what I came here for, so there’s that.”

  My brows come closer together. “What did you come here for?”

  “Oh please.” Janice slaps my arm. She actually hits me, and knocks me forward a step. “We’re all here for the same thing.”

  “All?” My heart gives a fast skip. “How many more are—”

  “It’s a full house, girlfriend. The competition is fierce.”

  “Oh…” Then my heart sinks. “Really? I was so sure my degree would—”

  “Tabitha Lawrence?”

  My head snaps up at my name being called from somewhere inside the practice.

  “That’s you?” Janice whisper-shouts. “Oh em gee. Go! Get it.”

  “I just…” The world is spinning out of my control. My ruined outfit. My missing caffeine shot that I waited in line for more than an hour for, the ‘fierce competition,’ according to my new best friend.

  “Go!” Janice shoves me through the door and follows it with a sharp slap on the ass.

  Then I’m inside, front and center and on show for more than twenty other Janices as they stare back at me. Short skirts, too-small tops, big hair, and long lashes.

  “Uh…”

  “You’re late, Miss Lawrence.” A woman much like Sheridan at the coffee shop stands guard behind a tall desk. Armed with a clipboard and a half dozen pens in her hair, she summons me forward and lifts a brow at my messy shirt. “You were due in over five minutes ago.”

  “I know.” I set my briefcase down, ignore the two dozen twenty-year-old stares heating my back, and accept the clipboard this woman offers. “I’m so sorry, I was actually here more than an hour ago, but then I made the mistake of going in search of coffee, and—”

  “Excuses are as easy to come by as dandelions in the spring,” the woman tsks. “Neither will pay a salary.”

  “Er… no, ma’am. They won’t.”

  “Because you were late, I pushed another applicant into your spot. Now you can move to the end of the line and wait for your turn to come up again.”

  “Uh… sure. Okay.” Filling in the paperwork that Martha—according to her nametag—pushed on me, I pretend the stares burning my back don’t make me twitch. “Um… lots of interest in the position, I see?”

  “Of course,” she rolls her eyes as I write my name on the line asking for it. “Big surprise there.”

  I frown at her strange words, but something else sticks out in my mind. Something much more pressing. “Are you… is the position advertised your position?”

  “It is.” Martha sniffs and accepts my paperwork when I hand it back. “My Franklin and I are getting old. It’s time we did something for ourselves b
efore it’s too late, so we’ve decided to travel before diabetes takes over and the codger loses a foot.”

  “The co— Um… your husband?”

  Startled, Martha places my clipboard down with a crack and meets my eyes with the fire of a thousand suns. “My Pomeranian.”

  “Your—”

  “That’s a breed of dog, Miss Lawrence! A topic you should familiarize yourself with before your interview begins.”

  “No, I—” Warmth floods my cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I know what a Pomeranian is, Miss…. Um, Martha. I was only surprised by…” I stop. “Ya know what?” I bend and collect my briefcase once more. “Nevermind. I’m sorry for speaking out of turn. I’ll just…” I turn and search the room, only to stop my gaze on an empty chair amid a bevy of blonde babes. “Shall I sit?”

  “Fantastic idea,” Martha huffs. “I’ll call your name when it’s your turn. Please do not get up every ten minutes and ask me how much longer until it’s your turn.”

  “I won’t,” I assure her. “I promise.”

  Hurrying to my seat, I sit so my shoulders touch those of the women on each side of my chair. It smells of florals over here, musks, perhaps something a little sweet. These ladies ignore my presence, but they don’t ignore each other. Instead, they talk around me, leaning into my space to murmur their thoughts.

  “The one on the far end,” Tits&Ass on my left sneers. “No way.”

  “Agreed,” Tits&Ass on my right nods. “No chance. Not his type at all.”