Smothering her amused smile, Rachael waved goodbye and walked out to the parking lot.
“Sorry about that,” he mumbled. “She’s a bit of a busybody. You probably have a million other things to do today anyways.”
Chuckling, she grinned up at him. “That was mildly entertaining, and no, I actually don’t have anything going on today.”
Shrugging, he half turned back to the door before continuing. “She’s probably watching us now. Nancy is a wonderful woman, but she’s pushier than a mother hen.”
“And you’re her chick?”
“In this case, probably.” He laughed. “Until someone is down the aisle and has said ‘I do,’ she views it as a personal mission. It’s the first time she’s been quite so blatant about it, though. I wonder what’s gotten into her.”
“Is it even allowed? I mean, can doctors date their patients?”
“No,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Human and animal relations are severely frowned upon.”
Choking on her laugh, she shook her head at him. “Oh my God. You know what I mean.”
“We don’t have any rules about it, per se, though I’ve never crossed that line myself. And Olive is my patient. But,” he shrugged and coughed nervously, “what do you think? Have time for a quick drink? I’d hate to disappoint Nancy. Completely your call, and it won’t affect Olive’s care at all. I promise.”
As she took in his warm, genuine smile, light flush, and comforting presence, she felt a flutter in her stomach. “Why not? For Nancy.”
Driving slowly, she followed into the parking lot behind him. The butterflies were still fluttering. Rachael counseled herself to calm down.
He’s being polite, Rach. Just trying to mollify Nancy. You would have done the same thing. Besides, he probably thinks you’re a nut job after yesterday.
He stood by the door and waited, allowing her to enter before him. They slid onto adjacent stools at the bar and he flagged the bartender. “Basil Hayden’s, neat. And whatever this lovely lady would like.”
Lovely? “Chardonnay, please.”
The bartender nodded and walked away, returning with their glasses.
“To Olive and Nancy,” Rick said.
“To Olive and Nancy,” she agreed, clinking his glass.
Rachael settled into her seat, feeling the alcohol warm her system. “She was right,” she decided, sighing in satisfaction. “This was needed.”
“Agreed.”
A tray dropped in the back of the bar. The sound of dishes clattering filled the air. A few patrons laughed and applauded. Rachael frowned over her shoulder, annoyed at the rudeness. Turning back to the bar, she fiddled with the stem of her wine glass, trying to figure out what to say.
“How did you get involved with the animal shelter?” Rick asked, breaking the silence.
Rachael grinned at the memory. “It began as a punishment. My parents caught me sneaking out of the house in high school. They decided I must have too much free time and that I needed more activity during the day so I would be too exhausted to go out.”
“Did it work?”
“Not at first. I was a terribly typical sulky teen. You know, my life was so unfair,” she grimaced at the melodramatics of her life back then. “But after a few weeks, the animals started to grow on me. It became less like work and more like fun. The animals—and even the other volunteers—became important to me.”
She paused to take a sip of wine and he echoed with his bourbon, nodding for her to continue.
“I became a bit obsessive then, to the point where I started dreaming about the pets and worrying about them. My anxiety started to peak, and my parents made me cut down to two visits a week. I doubt anyone saw that coming!”
“Addiction is a serious affliction.” He nodded dramatically. “One minute Fido is a nuisance, and the next he’s all you think about.”
“Right? After high school, my life became more hectic with college then work, but I’ve always tried to find time to volunteer when I could. You know, help walk and wash the dogs, clean their little habitats, and whatever else they need done. Without that, I wouldn’t have found Martini and Olive.”
“Did you name them?”
She giggled. “No, they came with the names. I kept them, even though I don’t like martinis or olives. Now I love a Martini and an Olive. Irony at its finest.”
He chuckled and saluted her with his drink.
“Did you always want to be a vet?”
He nodded. “Except for those years when I was elementally torn between being Spiderman or Superman. Once I figured out there weren’t any radioactive spiders nearby and my parents assured me—much to my disappointment—that we weren’t, in fact, aliens, I dedicated my energies toward the next best thing: animals. Considering most of the time I’m more comfortable talking to the dogs, cats, and other assorted pets than I am to the people who come in, I probably wouldn’t have been such a great crime fighter.”
For the next hour, they talked animatedly about their love of animals and he told her about becoming a veterinarian. She laughed at the gross stories from his training, and he at her parents’ reactions to the dogs. They ordered another round of drinks and she felt her stress melt away, enjoying talking to a fellow animal lover. And not just animals, but the conversation flowed seamlessly from topic to topic. Everything seemed to click.
“You’re living at your parents’ house?” Rick asked.
Wrinkling her nose, she grimaced. “Yes, until I find a pet-friendly place.”
“Where are you looking?”
“I’d like to stay somewhat close, north of the city.” They discussed the pros and cons of the various neighborhoods in the area.
“And your boyfriend? Significant other? Is he in the area too?”
Rachael shook her head, hoping she wasn’t flushed. She certainly felt warm. “No. No boyfriend. And you?”
“No, just me.”
She had assumed that would be the response, given Nancy’s pressuring, but it was good to get that confirmation. They both took another synchronized sip of their drinks and Rachael watched him from the corner of her eye. While he didn’t have the model looks of Gabe, he was very handsome, fascinating, and exuded that easygoing boy-next-door charm. Rick was interesting, funny, and loved animals. He was independent and chill. He somehow managed to nonchalantly captivate her. And he was single. What were the odds?
“Tell me, how is it possible that you are single?” he asked, his thoughts running parallel to her own.
Staring down at the grain lines in the smooth wooden bar, she took a deep breath and tried to control what she had little doubt was becoming a fierce blush. Trusting her as-yet infallible instincts, she turned to look straight into his eyes. “I guess I’ve never met the right person.”
He glanced down and swirled the amber liquor in his glass before meeting her direct gaze with a speculative smile. “Neither have I. Much to Nancy’s perpetual disappointment.”
A smile tugged at her lips. Fortunately, she rarely had to worry about meddling matchmakers. Most people quit trying several years ago, when she made it abundantly clear she did not have the time or the desire to start a relationship.
“Let’s say you were interested in meeting a man,” he murmured. “You know, hypothetically. What would you look for?”
“Hypothetically, if I were looking, I suppose the first thing would be that he saw me for me, and not as a connection to my family.” She couldn’t count on all her digits the men who had tried to start something with her as a way to ingratiate themselves with EHL Global.
“I could see where that could be a problem.”
“Mhm. You wouldn’t believe the stories, the lines.”
“What else?”
“Obviously there’d have to be real attraction, chemistry, compatibility. Someone I could connect with beyond the physical.”
“Obviously.”
“Other than that, I guess it’s the same stuff most people would say. A s
ense of humor is a must. Someone who’s caring and respectful. He’d have to be independent and understand my need to be independent too. He’d have to respect my family and my job, knowing those were very important to me.”
Rick studied her thoughtfully.
“What about you?”
Taking another drink of his bourbon, Rick set the glass down and took a deep breath. “She’d have to have a pulse.” He nodded sagely, a hint of a smile dancing around his lips.
“Oh, my gosh,” she laughed. “Did you really just say that?”
“I did. That is very much a legitimate requirement.”
Rolling her eyes and conceding the point, she circled her hand for more.
“She would need to love animals and be understanding of my unpredictable work schedule.”
“That would be important, considering.”
“Like you said, there would have to be chemistry and mutual respect. She’d have to be intelligent and honest. Be willing to commit. I’m very much a one-woman kind of man, and I’d expect the same in return.”
They both fell quiet, considering each other, this turn of events. Rachael was confused. She’d spent so much time and energy pushing people away to advance her career and reputation, but now there was this . . . she didn’t even know what to call it. Things were changing, and she wasn’t sure she could deal with it.
“I’m sorry about Olive’s accident, but I am glad I met you, Rachael.”
Heat flooded her, and it wasn’t from the wine. The unexpected pleasure she felt from his statement was surprising. What do you say to that? She took another sip before working up the courage to look at him.
“Me too,” she reached out to squeeze his hand, smiling at the improbability of finding someone so inexplicably in sync with her.
He kept hold of her hand, and the butterflies fluttered anew.
“I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I am going to a fundraiser tonight. Business casual. It’s for the pet adoption center up in Centerville. Would you like to join me?”
Yes was on the tip of her tongue, until she recalled her previous engagement. “Oh, I wish I could, but I have plans with my sister,” she said, wondering if he thought she was blowing him off. At another time, that would have been a good excuse to brush off an unwanted date. Her phone vibrated and she glanced down to see a text from her dad. That was unusual. He hated texting. She looked closer. Come get your damn dog.
Rachael laughed out loud and set down her glass. “I’m so sorry, but it seems our afternoon is getting cut short by Martini.”
He looked puzzled and she showed him the text. He broke out into a self-deprecating grin. “Story of my life—the four-legged friends get all the love and attention.”
She giggled and stood, stretching her legs. “Thank you, Rick. This was nice. Really nice. And thank Nancy for me too, I suppose.”
“Hang on a sec, I’ll walk you out,” he said, holding out his card to the bartender.
They stepped into the afternoon sunshine and she turned her face up, soaking in the rays. Rick stuffed his hands in his pockets, following along to her car.
“I’ll be by to check on Olive again tomorrow. Think she’ll get to come home then?”
He shook his head. “I can’t say yet, but I doubt it. She’ll probably need another day.”
“Oh.” She frowned and leaned against her car, mentally rearranging her schedule for Monday.
“What’s wrong?”
“Just thinking.” She shook her head. “But it’ll all work out.”
Rick hesitated and stepped closer, taking her hand. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I meant what I said. I’m glad we met.”
She squeezed his hand. “Not at all. And I meant what I said. I really wish I could go tonight.”
He leaned closer and grazed her cheek with a light kiss; the soft brush of lips shot a flare of awareness through her body. “I’ll see you tomorrow. What time do you plan to come by?”
“Around noon?” she proposed.
Rick squinted into the sunlight and nodded, apparently having made some kind of decision. “Would you like to get lunch together afterward?”
“Is this coming from you or Nancy?” Rachael teased.
“Me,” he said, his lips curved into a tempting half-smile. “All me this time.”
Deep breath, Rach.
“Tomorrow sounds wonderful. I’ll see you then,” she agreed, sliding her hand out of his warm grasp, noting the interest in his chocolate eyes.
That sounded very nice.
7
When Rachael walked in the front door, her father’s mutinous expression spoke volumes. He said nothing but pointed toward the living room. Even from where she stood, she could see—and worse, smell—the mess.
Scrubbing the carpet, Rachael glared at Martini. “What did you eat?!”
He slunk down onto his belly and army-crawled behind the chair leg.
“Good thing you’re cute,” she grumbled.
At last satisfied that her mother wouldn’t notice the accident, she put the supplies away and washed up. Martini inched out and cautiously eyed her. Rachael sighed. “I know you miss your Olive. It’s okay, Martini.” He eased out and gave her ankle a little apologetic lick. “Silly boy,” she laughed, reaching down to scratch his ears.
One certifiable mess cleaned up. She grabbed a water and sat on the patio chair to consider another potentially messy situation brewing. After a veritable desert of potential dates, she now found herself with two men to consider within a couple of days. They were both appealing but vastly different.
She pictured Rick’s easy charm and melted. He seemed so sweet and she was attracted to him. Even more surprising was how much they had in common, which she would never have guessed, given her business-driven life. But was he too easygoing? As dominant as she tended to be, she wanted to know she wouldn’t have to be that way all the time. The very few short-lived relationships she’d had were all with alpha-male types. Rachael needed someone who would keep her on her toes and not cave to her whims. Would she end up walking all over him? That would never work out.
Twisting the water bottle’s top, she pegged what the other real problem might be there. It was unlike her to be attracted to someone who gave off the monogamous, relationship-seeking vibe. She was more than a little intimidated by it. Hell, she was scared witless by it. She had never really done the whole girlfriend thing. Where would she even begin? Truthfully, she didn’t think she was prepared for something that serious. Not now, not when her career was running at full throttle.
Changing channels, her mind pulled up Gabe’s dark angel look. So hot. Too damn hot. But different from what she expected. Humming, she closed her eyes and recalled his mouth, his hands sliding up and down her flesh that night, his decadent domination of her. Yummy. She wanted more of that. But he also was out of her comfort zone. Too well known, smack dab in the middle of the media spotlight. With a womanizing reputation to boot. She giggled at her mom’s word for him, a rake.
Two men. Polar opposites. But she was drawn to both.
“What to do, what to do?” she mused aloud. Martini cocked his head, ready to listen. “Months without a single interesting conversation with a man—not one—and bam! Two of them appear at the same time. Life isn’t fair, Martini.”
He yawned and laid his head down, preferring a nap to her conversation. “Traitor,” she muttered.
Passing the day organizing the moving boxes in her bedroom and going through the latest list of available properties, she happily put aside all thoughts of the boys. She glanced in the mirror and admired her perfect blonde waves with a smile. Marie, Rachael’s lifelong hairstylist, always got it right, both the cut and the words of wisdom. Time will tell, she heard in Marie’s voice. She had always been like a second mom to Rachael and Carlie. And right now, Rachael could use some words of wisdom.
* * *
Parking outside the salon, she waved to the small group of women gathered, mo
stly regulars. A treasure like Marie was always in demand. Rachael entered the building that would always smell of hair dye and shampoo, smiling at one of her most favorite people in the world, a mama who would fit in perfectly with the My Big Fat Greek Wedding cast.
“Rachael!” Marie’s surprise was accompanied by her swishing and spinning Mrs. Parker around in her seat. In classic Marie fashion, her apron was not tied well and had shifted to the side. She was stirring a cup of hair dye and chatting animatedly with her current customer. She tapped her client’s shoulder with her elbow. “You just sit right there. I have to go say hello.”
“Hello, Mrs. Parker,” Rachael greeted the seated woman watching her from the mirror, hair matted down on one side, heavy with product.
“Hello, Rachael! Did your mother come with you?”
“No, it’s just me.”
“Oh. Well do tell Mary I said hello.”
Marie shushed Mrs. Parker and pulled Rachael to the side by the trio of vacant hair-washing sinks. “I don’t have you on my book today, my little bluebird. Everything okay?”
Rachael shrugged. “I know. Just wanted to pop in and say hi.”
Marie eyed her suspiciously. “I don’t know that I believe that whopper, but I’ll take it. How’s my girl doing today? You know, Junior is in town,” she hinted.
Rachael groaned dramatically. “Marie, you know he’s like a brother to me. Not going to happen.”
A smile danced about her lips. “A mother can dream.”
Tugging at the askew apron, Rachael straightened and retied it. “Marie?”
“Yes?”
“Did you ever have to choose between more than one person? I mean, I know you and Rob have been together forever, but before that?”
She tilted her head and studied Rachael. “Is that what this is about? Sorry to disappoint, dear, but it was always Robbie for me.” Marie paused and looked around the salon, making sure no one was paying attention to them. “But at your age, with your vigor and the times today? I say you take advantage and see what’s what. Safely, of course. Nothing wrong with experiencing a little amour. Especially for one so serious such as yourself.”
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