Reining Her In

by Katie Ashley

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’d done a lot of things for my four-legged clients and their owners over the years. Holding up my phone to one of the recovery bays where Moose could both see and hear Cameron was a definite first. Of course, it was hard to discredit the positive effect it had on Moose. The sound of Cameron’s voice had him immediately perking up before thumping his tail appreciatively.

  Of course, facetiming also meant talking to Declan. I’m not sure why things still felt slightly awkward, but they did. Maybe it was because I didn’t know what to do with all my displaced anger. Maybe it was because we were blindly feeling along to rebuild and redefine who we were to each other. It couldn’t have possibly been because I suddenly found myself attracted to him again.

  After wrapping up the Facetime with Cameron, I closed up the office and headed down the street to the café. For the last few weeks, Becca and I had been meeting up for dinner a few nights a week when Anthony was on call. Most of the time we cooked, or I guess I should say she cooked, and then other nights we met at the café.

  When I breezed through the doors of the café, Becca was waiting on me in one of the booths. I bypassed the hostess and headed over to sit down. “I’m glad you could finally join me,” she good-naturedly chastised.

  I held up my hands. “My apologies. I was just about to head out the door when Declan called for Cameron to Facetime with Moose again.”

  Becca pursed her lips at me. “You’re Facetiming with Declan?”

  Scowling, I replied, “No. Cam and Moose are Facetiming. Declan and I are just facilitating the calls.”

  “Mm, hmm,” Becca murmured.

  I snatched up a menu. “What’s that supposed me?”

  “It just seems that you’re seeing a lot of Declan lately.”

  “Well, duh, that’s somewhat a necessity since I’ve been treating his dog.”

  “Mom said the other day the two of you were out to the wee hours of the morning together.”

  Shooting Becca an exasperated look, I replied, “Yes, because Moose was hit, and I had to operate on him.”

  “And then you went to the Waffle House with him.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but then closed it back when I realized she had me. “Surgery makes me hungry,” I finally replied.

  “Mm, hmm,” she repeated.

  “Would you stop with the ‘mm, hmms’ and just say what you really want to say?”

  She grinned. “I think someone might’ve finally forgiven Declan St. James.”

  “Did Mom tell you that?”

  She shook her head. “No. She only told me about you saving Moose, and that he took you to breakfast. I made the assumption you had forgiven him after you didn’t inflict any bodily harm to him.”

  “Surprisingly, I haven’t even been tempted.”

  Becca clapped her hands together before bringing them in front of her mouth. “Oh, Pey, you really have forgiven him, haven’t you?” she said almost dreamily.

  “Yeah, I suppose I have.” As I said the words aloud, I realized it was the first I’d really acknowledged the momentous occurrence to anyone else. The last twenty-four hours had been such a whirlwind of emotion, and I’d been so busy that I hadn’t had a chance to process it all.

  “You know I’m going to need details.”

  With a shrug, I replied, “I’m not sure what there is to tell. We had a really good talk over waffles. Seeing him open and vulnerable made me remember the reasons why I’d fallen in love with him. At the same, he showed me the caring and compassionate man he’s grown into.”

  “Took you long enough,” Becca murmured.

  Tossing my menu to the table, I replied, “Yeah, yeah, I’m a stubborn ass. The thing is I didn’t just stop hurting overnight, so I think it’s fair that I can’t forgive overnight, too.”

  “Yeah, I know. I guess, I’m just proud you can admit it.”

  “Me too. It also didn’t hurt that he’s going above and beyond to cease the development next door to the clinic.”

  “Wow. That’s huge.”

  “It is.”

  The waitress arrived and took our order. After she left, Becca placed both her palms on the table and leaned in. Her expression turned serious. “You can’t imagine how thankful I am to hear you’re moving on from all your Declan baggage.”

  Tilting my head at her, I replied, “After that last statement, I can’t help thinking there’s something pretty heavy you’re about to say.”

  “You’re right.”

  “And?” I prompted.

  “There’s someone I want to fix you up with.”

  My eyes bulged. “Yeah, I think that’s going to be a big no.”

  Becca wagged a finger at me. “Oh no, you promised me when you first moved back to town you’d let me fix you up.”

  Shit. I had said that, hadn’t I? At the time, I’m pretty sure I’d been okay with it, and I hadn’t been uttering it under some sort of duress.

  In my silence, Becca said, “You haven’t been out one time since you moved back.”

  “I’ve been busy getting settled in here, not to mention taking over at the practice,” I countered.

  “You need to get out.

  “I will. Just not now.”

  Shaking her head, Becca replied, “Nope. I’m not accepting that reply.”

  “Fine. I’ll get out.”

  “But?”

  “But what?”

  “You’ll get out but under what circumstances?”

  “Look, when I really think about it, I don’t need you to fix me up.”

  “I would disagree.”

  “No offense, Becs, but I’ve managed to do just fine all these years without your help.”

  “Okay, let’s for a brief moment entertain the thought of you taking matters into your own hands. How are you possibly going to meet someone? You need to get out somewhere besides my house or the clinic.”

  “I come here every morning for breakfast. Does that count?”

  Becca wrinkled her nose. “Not unless you’re wanting to hook up with someone our parents age.”

  “It’s more than just the senior set at breakfast.”

  “Come on, Pey. It’s just a little set-up. If you meet him and hate him, you never have to see him again.”

  “That is such a lie in a small town. I will still have to see him—at the dry cleaners or the grocery store.”

  “Seeing someone socially is not the same thing as seeing them romantically.”

  “It can be just as disastrous if the date doesn’t go well.”

  “Just work with me here, okay?”

  My shoulders drooped in defeat when I realized Becca wasn’t going to let this go. “Fine.”

  Her dark eyes lit up at my declaration. “I have the perfect person.”

  Oh, I’m sure you do. “Do tell.”

  “His name is Tripp, and he teaches sixth grade at the school. Not only is he really easy on the eyes, but he’s knew to Hayesville so he doesn’t know anything about your past.”

  Snorting, I replied, “My past? Way to make me sound like a whore or something, little sis.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Sure, I knew it was Declan and not my alleged promiscuity she was referring to, but at the same time, it still sounded seedy. “Do I get to see a picture of this perfect Tripp who didn’t grow up here?”

  I’d barely finished my question before she was flashing her phone in front of my face. As I focused on the screen, a handsome blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy smiled back at me. “Cute,” I replied.

  “I know, right? If I wasn’t married to Anthony, I would be all over him like a bad rash.”

  With a groan, I replied, “That has to be the worst analogy ever. Like, seriously, it sounds like you have an STD.”

  Becca waved her hand dismissively before taking her phone back. She gave Tripp one last seemingly lustful gaze before turning back to me. “When I told him about you, he was really interested.”

  “Did
you show him a picture?”

  “Yeah, but he was already interested before I did.”

  I’m sure he was. Considering how visual most men were, I could only imagine his interest hadn’t been truly peeked until he saw my picture.

  “Okay, he’s cute, and I’ll go out with him. Now what?”

  “Great. Send him a text.”

  “Seriously? Like that won’t see odd or anything?”

  “I told him I was meeting you for dinner tonight, and you’d text him if you were interested.”

  “All right. You can give me his number and—”

  “Text him now.”

  “Can’t I wait until later?”

  Becca shook her head. “Nope. I want to see you do it.”

  “You’re really pulling out all the stops to make sure I can’t get out of this, aren’t you?”

  “Damn straight,” Becca replied with a grin—the one I called Papa’s Grin.

  “Fine,” I grumbled as I picked up my phone. “What’s the number?”

  “678-252-8643.”

  After typing in the digits, I scrolled down to the message box. My fingers hovered over the keys as I debated what to say. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I typed, Hey Tripp, it’s Becca’s sister, Peyton. I’m just texting to see when it might be convenient for you to meet up.

  “Could you be more formal?” Becca asked.

  I jerked the phone away from her area of vision. “This is not a booty call where I just put in an eggplant emoji. Besides, I’ve never been one of those people who can’t text in complete sentences.”

  Becca snorted. “I’m surprised you managed not to use a bunch of pretentious words like you usually do.”

  At the mention of my vocabulary, Declan flashed before my mind. No one had ever good-naturedly teased me as much as he had. The thought made me smile. It also caused uneasiness to prick along my spine. Like I was doing something wrong thinking about Declan while I was texting another man.

  The ding of my phone caused me to jump. “Ooh, he’s texted back!” Becca screeched in my ear.

  “You know it could be someone else,” I replied as I tried scooting away from her to save what was left of my hearing.

  “Oh, I just know it’s him.”

  Peering at my phone, I clicked on the text bubble, which was Tripp. “Icehouse Fri Nite 4 drinks?” I read aloud.

  “See he knows how to be succinct.”

  “Nice word choice there.”

  She winked. “I learned from the best.” Jerking her chin at the phone, she said, “Hurry up and reply.”

  As I stared at Tripp’s response, I shook my head. “I’m not sure I like the suggestion of drinks.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too non-committal.”

  “But it’s still a date.”

  “Don’t you remember that scene in Sleepless in Seattle where Tom Hanks is explaining how it’s better to ask someone on a first date to drinks because you can get out of it easier if it’s not going well?”

  “If I remember correctly, he also says if it’s going well you can ask them to dinner.”

  “What kind of dinner would it be at the Icehouse?”

  Becca winced. “True.”

  “Ugh, I’m not so sure about this.”

  “Look, even if it’s just for drinks, you need to get out.” She tapped the screen of my phone. “Text him back.”

  “Let me guess. I should just write, ‘K’?”

  Laughing, Becca replied, “Yes.”

  After typing in a lone k, I said, “There. It’s done. Are you happy?”

  “Deliriously so.”

  Although exasperating in the match-making department, I seriously loved my sister. She wanted nothing more than for me to be as blissfully happy as she was in her marriage. It was equal parts endearing and irritating.

  My phone dinged with Tripp’s eloquent reply of C u Fri. Smirking, I replied, “I certainly hope he’ll be speaking in complete sentences by Friday. I’m obviously not fluent in text-speak.”

  Rolling her eyes, Becca popped a fry into her mouth. “Har, har.” She rubbed her hands together. “Now let’s plan on what you’re going to wear.”

  I groaned at her suggestion. “Seriously? Are we back in high school? I haven’t consulted with anyone on what to wear on a date since college.”

  “Yeah, well, you weren’t here for me to advise you back then, so I think we need to make up for lost time.”

  “Way to give me the guilt trip.”

  The waitress returned to clear the plates. “Would you like any dessert?”

  As Becca shook her head, I replied, “Yes, I’d like a slice of the chocolate cake please.” I gave Becca a pointed look. “I’m going to either need chocolate or booze to get through the rest of this conversation.”

  “Then try to the Kentucky Bourbon pie instead.” She waggled her brows. “You get the best of both worlds.”

  Grinning, I said to the waitress, “Sounds good to me.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  As the waitress went to grab my pie, Becca tilted her head at me. “I bet you’ve got a few sexy numbers in your closet that you used to wear out in Atlanta.”

  “While I may have some, I don’t think they’d be appropriate for the Ice House.”

  “Are you insuinutating it’s a backwoods establishment?”

  I gave her a pointed look. “I grew up here, remember? While the Ice House might’ve been after my time, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t wear the same outfit there as I would somewhere in Atlanta.”

  “Fine. Just promise me you’ll at least change out of your scrubs before you go.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Somehow I’m afraid you really won’t.”

  “Well, I can’t make any promises.”

  “You know it might make Declan jealous if he was to hear about you dating someone.”

  I straightened up at the mention of Declan. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “No. I don’t think I do.”

  Becca pursed her lips at me. “Come on, Pey. Admit it. There’s a still a part of you that has feelings for Declan, and I don’t mean feelings of revenge.

  My eyes bulged at the very insinuation. “I most certainly do not.”

  “You do know there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

  “Of course, I do,” I muttered as twisted my linen napkin in my lap.

  “You’re single, and he’s separated and about to be divorced. There’s really nothing stopping you.”

  “Except the epic baggage of our past.”

  Shrugging, Becca replied, “Everybody’s relationship comes with some sort of baggage. It’s how the two of you choose to handle it is what matters.”

  “I don’t know, Becs. It’s a lot to overcome.”

  “You don’t know until you try. And I have a feeling you want to try.”

  “The truth is I am feeling something for Declan—I just don’t know what. The way we were able to talk and laugh last night was just like old times.” The corners of my lips quirked. “It felt good.”

  “Then continue fostering the relationship. See where it goes.”

  “Fine. I’ll be more open-minded.”

  “In the meantime, you can be focusing on some of the other fish in the sea by going out with Tripp.”

  I tossed my napkin at her. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

  “Nope.”

  After the waitress returned with my pie, I waved my fork at Becca. “I was going to offer you some of this, but this conversation negates the need for me to consume the entire thing.”

  With a laugh, she replied, “You might need another slice after we tackle how you’re going to do your makeup.”

  I speared a hunk of the pie onto my fork. Gazing at the gooey, chocolate goodness, I groaned, “I don’t think there’s enough pie in the world!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  On Friday, I left w
ork around five thirty and headed home to get ready. After showering, I stood before my closet door debating about what to wear. First dates were always tricky, especially blind ones. You didn’t want to look like you were trying too hard while at the same time, you didn’t want to look like you’d just peeled yourself off the couch after Netflix binge.

  I finally decided on a pair of dark skinny jeans, a dressy sweater, and some low heels. Once I was dressed, I did my makeup before putting a few waves into my hair with my straightening iron. After turning left and right in the mirror, I nodded my head in satisfaction.

  When I got into my car, I turned on some thumping rap music to try to get me in the zone. I’m not exactly sure why I needed gangsta rap music before a date, but something about it always tended to put my mind at ease. As I made my way to the Ice House, I inevitably had to pass by the road where Declan grew up as well as Roy Wallace’s pasture.

  The close physical proximity to him caused my mind to wander to thoughts of Declan. Since it fit my fantasy better, I imagined him being with Cam. Maybe they were tearing down the trails on four-wheelers or riding through the overgrown grass of the pastureland. Afterwards, they’d sit down to a big Southern meal around the mahogany dining table at Robert and Pauline’s.

  Of course, my thoughts had to torture me with images of him on a date with someone who looked like his receptionist. They were probably at a beer tasting at a hip new brewery. Declan wasn’t a fan of wine, but maybe for this chick, he would be truly selfless and take her to a winery. Then they’d have passionate, mind-blowing sex in front a floor to ceiling fireplace.

  Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “Would you get a fucking grip?”

  I then shook my head and tried to free myself of any thoughts of Declan. I was heading to my first Hayesville date—my first post Declan’s redemption date. My dating life had been shackled and chained by his memory for far too long. It was a new day, and Tripp was a new man.