by Mysti Parker
"I'm a sheriff's deputy."
More doodling. Did she have a sister who dragged her here against her will, like Jack had done to him?
He looked at the questions again, finding one that might entice her to speak out loud. "Um, what do like to read?"
"Something, something mystery something."
"I'm sorry, could you speak up?"
She glanced at him, eyes wide and blinking, before she answered in only a slightly louder whisper, "Something cozy mystery something."
Jesse scrubbed a hand over his face. "Cozy mysteries?"
She nodded.
"I'm not much of a reader myself."
Brenda didn't try to hide it when she circled No under the Interested? column. Jesse downed the rest of his mint julep, set his elbow on the table, and rested his chin in his hand. Brenda resumed doodling while he circled No in one heavy pencil stroke on his form. If this date was any indication of the rest of the night, he’d need a few more drinks. Shit, even feeding Barkley the mutant devil dog would be better than enduring this particular kind of torture.
Finally, the bell rang. He jumped from the chair and rushed out, with little hope that the other nine women would be more entertaining. He headed for booth two, where Jack was backing out, smiling and nodding. The woman within the booth wasn’t quiet about what they'd do on a real date. Apparently it involved whips and chains.
Jack turned to him and made a gag gesture before hurrying to booth three.
"Well, at least she’s not boring," Jesse said under his breath.
He entered booth two and slid into the empty chair across from a very nervous-looking woman with short red hair and a bad perm. She had very little in terms of curves, not that he could tell. Her turtleneck and cat-themed sweater vest didn't show anything but her small head and bony hands. She pulled down a pair of reading glasses and picked up her date log.
And never stopped talking. "Hey, I’m Melinda. He said you're his brother. You don't look much alike. I dated twins once. Couldn't tell them apart. Not the Mann brothers, though. I'd so do them, but of course, they're taken. All the good ones are. Except your brother. He's like Christian Grey or something. What do I need to do to get with him? Or is he too demented? I mean, I’m all about the kinky stuff, but I don’t do gerbils and shit like that."
What was this? Twilight Zone Speed Dating? Jesse put his form on his lap and circled No repeatedly until the pencil lead poked through the paper.
"Have you ever met anyone famous?” Melinda said. “I met the Pope once, sort of. I saw him pass by in his Pope-mobile when he visited Washington, DC. He waved at me, sort of. God, he's sexy."
"Uh-huh.”
She fanned herself with a napkin. "I mean, haven't you ever wondered what's under that robe?"
"Can't say that I have."
"I bet he's packing. I mean like seriously, third leg kind of packing." Melinda pushed her glasses up on her nose and slurped the last of a mint julep from the skinny straw in her cup.
"How many of those have you had?"
"Two, three, I don’t know." She slammed the glass down and leaned forward with her elbows on the table. Little bells on her fuzzy cat sweater jingled. "I've never dated a cop. You like to use handcuffs or what? I've never liked them much. They tend to pinch. But I'd love to try it in the back of a cop car..."
And on and on she described her freaky-ass fetishes. Jesse massaged his temple, where a stabbing headache had taken up shop. He sprang from his chair and was out of the booth the moment the bell rang.
Thankfully, the next couple of women were rather normal, though one had terrible breath and the other kept talking about her ex-husband and how hot she thought Jack was and that she'd kill to marry a rich guy. Those were No and No. Jesse was four for four now and had a feeling it would be a straight ten by the end of the night. The bell rang, signaling his retreat from number four's booth.
To hell with this bullshit. He started toward the exit, but Jack stepped out of the number five booth.
"No, you don't. Trust me, this one's better, but way out of your league," Jack said, strutting on to booth six.
Jesse sighed. He slipped into booth five and slid into the chair, not even bothering to check out the woman across the table.
"Your brother is a piece of work."
He knew that slight accent and the laugh that followed.
"Leigh?" Relief washed over him. At least she didn't seem swayed by Jack's money.
She wore a low-cut purple blouse, a string of pearls, and some hoop earrings. Her makeup was a little heavier than he'd seen it before, but only served to enhance her pretty features. Her eyes, he noticed, were a light brown with flecks of gold.
He smiled and cleared his throat. "Yeah, he sure is. He dragged me here as punishment for saving a dog."
"What?"
"Long story. But tell your mom thanks for helping save my ass. So, what brings you here?"
"My friend, Avery. She thought it would be fun."
He chuckled. "I've struck out four times already. Where do they find these people?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "But it’s awkward. Some of these guys are clients, including you."
"You don't have to consider this a date. We could call it a therapy session."
Leigh wrinkled her nose, an expression that made her look surprisingly more adorable and down-to-earth than her usual professional seriousness. "Nah, I think about work too much as it is. But I kind of know a lot about you already. Nature of my job. What can we talk about to kill six minutes?"
"Well, I don't know a whole lot about you." He held up his card, looking down his nose at the sample questions like Brenda Something, the librarian, did. "What do you like to read?"
Leigh laughed. It sounded more relaxed and natural than he'd heard before. "I got a little burned out on reading after doing so much of it in college. Right now, it's mostly Facebook, my mom's magazines, and the Sunday paper."
"Hmm. Yeah, I'm not much of a reader myself, but I do like the Sunday comics."
"There's one thing we have in common, then."
"Okay." He chose the next question on the list, feeling more relaxed than he had all evening, and it wasn't because of the watered-down mint julep. "What's one thing you didn't get to do as a kid that you'd like to do now?"
Leigh shifted in her seat. She picked at the label of her water bottle. "I don't know. Lots of things, I guess. Never went fishing. Never had a pet. Never had a sleepover. Never went to the prom..."
Guilt crawled up his spine, making him wish he had more of that terrible mint julep. "Oh. I'm sorry if I brought up bad memories."
"It's okay. What about you?"
"I never had a family gathering without a fight breaking out. That’d be nice."
"Yeah, I imagine that would be a nice change."
He couldn’t keep his investigative side from asking more questions. "So why didn't you have pets or go to prom? With your mom’s job, I figured you’d have a mini zoo at home, and I can’t believe no one asked you to the prom, as pretty as…" He froze the rest of that statement with some ice from his cup, crunching on it as quietly as possible.
A bashful smile flitted across her lips. "I was sick a lot as a kid. Ancient history. My turn. What happened to your parents?"
He crunched more ice and shook his head. “Next question.”
Sighing, she consulted her form, her voice taking on that steady, serious therapist tone. "What do you like to watch on TV?”
“Bass Masters, Ice Road Truckers, The Walking Dead…”
Her face lit up. “Oh yeah, I remember you mentioning The Walking Dead. I’m so addicted.”
“It’s aggravating, though, because just when you start liking a character, they’re—” Jesse slid a finger across his throat.
“I’m still shocked that Lizzie and her sister died like that. They were just kids.” She lowered her eyes. Sadness darkened her features.
“Nobody’s safe in that show.”
“You got that right.�
� She took a drink of her bottled water and looked at her date log again. “So, what are your favorite snacks while watching?”
“That’s not on the card, is it?”
“No, I thought we might be clever enough to improvise.”
“Okay, well Pa and me usually fry up some burgers or chops.”
“That’s so sweet that he watches with you.”
“Yeah, for about the first ten minutes, until he’s snoring in his recliner.”
She crossed her arms casually on the table. “Next question. What do you do to relax?"
“I visit my therapist.” He grinned.
“Counselor.”
“Whatever.”
They both laughed. Man, this felt good. Then the damn bell rang.
“Has it already been six minutes?” Leigh asked, looking at her phone.
"Yeah, I guess so. Why don't we cut out of here and do some night fishing at my pond? I've got plenty of mosquito spray and a bunch of night crawlers."
Her lips drew into a taut line. "I told you, I don't date my clients."
"It's not a date, it's—"
"It's not anything. Now, let's move on through the rest of this motley crew so we can each go home and forget this night happened."
"Okay. Whatever you want."
Jesse moved on to the next five women, but he couldn't focus enough to write down their names. Nor did he care. Some of them were plain weird. Some were too scared of him. One of them—Avery Price—was on his list. She told him where he could stick it when he tried to apologize for bullying her then used up the rest of her six minutes at the bar.
By number eight, he didn't even bother circling Yes or No. The only Yes he had on his list, as far as he was concerned, was Leigh Meriwether. She was smart, beautiful, and compassionate. He'd caught a glimpse of the real woman beneath the therapist mask and wanted more, but he had no idea how to win her over. His brother was right, anyway. She was way out of his league. Maybe he could take the fetish chick home and have a wild night. But the thought of that made him queasy. He'd rather jerk off alone than deal with that kind of crazy.
Chapter Thirteen
As if it weren't enough that Avery's car reeked of vanilla and pine forest air fresheners, she would not shut up about the night's events. "That butcher smelled like bologna, even though I think he had showered. I guess when you're around all that meat, it gets absorbed into your pores or whatever. What did you think about the vet? I mean, he can’t be perfect, since he’s Jesse Maddox’s brother, but he's a freaking millionaire. Makes me wonder why he's even working. He must really like animals. He's kind of an ass and totally not into commitment, but you know what? I'm thinking that's not so bad.”
A few seconds of silence passed. Avery’s excitement sank into seriousness. “I about shit myself when Jesse stepped in my booth. I know he’s a deputy now, but honestly—would he really expect me to date him after all the shit he put me through in high school?” She glanced at Leigh, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I mean literal shit—he put it in my lunchbox. I don’t know if it was his or not, but shit’s shit, isn’t it? He called me all kinds of names too. Metal-face, Midget… God, I’m glad I’m not in high school anymore. He actually started to apologize for all of that, but I told him to go fuck himself and went for another drink.”
More silence. Leigh picked at her cuticles. There was no way to tactfully admit that she felt something for her best friend’s past tormentor.
“Why are you so quiet?" Avery asked, nudging her.
"I don't know. I'm glad you had fun."
"And you didn't? Come on, I bet there was a guy or two you liked, besides Jesse. Didn't you circle yes for anyone?"
Leigh kept quiet, staring out the car window at the passing headlights and the rows of yellow-lit windows signaling the entrance to her neighborhood. Behind those windows, moms and dads were reading bedtime stories to their kids, washing up dinner dishes, talking about their day, anticipating the moment when they could finally retreat to their bedrooms and make love.
“You did, didn’t you?” Avery prompted, nudging her again.
Leigh lightly slapped Avery’s hand away. “It doesn’t matter. I threw the card away.”
Avery hit the brakes hard. Tires squealed and crunched along on the pavement of the quiet neighborhood street. The seat belt dug into Leigh’s chest as she was tossed forward, then back against the seat. She gripped the car door handle, sure she’d see a body or a deer slam onto the windshield at any moment. The only thing she saw, however, were lights coming on in some nearby houses. Once her heart slowed down enough and she realized they hadn’t collided with anything or anybody, she slapped Avery hard on the shoulder.
She tried to sound stern, but it came out as a shriek. “What the bloody hell? Are you insane?”
Avery crossed her arms, her narrowed eyes staring out over the car hood. “No, but I think you are. Why waste an opportunity like that? I know there had to be at least one guy you could connect with.”
“Fine.” Leigh squeezed the car door handle to keep from strangling her crazy best friend. “There was one, but he’s off-limits.”
“Why? Is he married?”
“No.”
“A Satan worshipper?”
“No.”
“Is he a felon or what? You’re not giving me anything to go on here.”
“He’s my client.”
Avery was quiet for a moment then met Leigh’s gaze. “Elaborate.”
"He’s the one I told you about in the shop.”
“Oh, so which one of those guys was he, and what’s wrong with him? Does he have a toe jam fetish or something?”
With a loud sigh, Leigh fiddled with her earring and surrendered to Avery’s interrogation. “It’s Jesse Maddox."
Avery’s jaw dropped. Then she laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No.”
“I have no idea what to say.” Her voice had grown quiet, uncertain. Not like Avery at all.
“That’s a first.”
“Past aside, do you think he’s actually turned over a new leaf? Even you weren’t immune to the shit he pulled, and you were homeschooled.”
“He seems sincere with his actions, but I suppose it’s possible he could revert back to his old behavior."
"You’re way too good for him, and you had nine other guys to pick from. Not the vet, though. He’s mine. But I know you can do better than Jesse Maddox. Call up one of those guys, go out, have fun, be friends at least, and if it turns into something more, go for it.”
"I don't know."
"Please. For me. It would be my greatest pleasure to get you fitted in a gorgeous Justin Alexander wedding gown."
“Let's not jump the gun, shall we?” Leigh took a deep breath and watched the light from the closest house spill from an open front door, and a silhouette peering out. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through pursed lips. “Fine. I'll think about it."
"Well, that's a start, I guess."
“Now, let’s get out of here before somebody calls the cops. I don’t need Jesse showing up here right now.”
Chapter Fourteen
A few Jesse-free days passed, but Leigh had a difficult time keeping her mind off him. It would have been easier if she hadn’t passed him a couple times when driving to and from work. He salute-waved at her, and she lifted her finger from the steering wheel in the usual small town driver salutation reserved for random fellow drivers. She felt guilty for giving him the cold shoulder. But she didn’t know how else to handle it. Things might have been easier had she been in a relationship before and wasn’t a virgin. The mere thought of the V word made her cringe inside. What twenty-four-year-old woman was a virgin these days unless she was a nun?
But then again, loving someone meant the possibility of losing them. Her two o’clock, a sweet seventy-something widow who was still grieving her husband’s loss, had just left. Grief still consumed her sometimes, even ten years since his death. She didn't know if
she could handle such a loss, or vice versa, since the odds of reaching AARP age wasn't in her favor.
Leigh looked at her appointment book. Her three o’clock was due to arrive any minute. “Ugh, why him?”
Mitch Perkins, the loner from the rundown farm, had been a sporadic client over the past several months. He had a troubled history of abuse and neglect as a child. Unfortunately, it wasn’t unusual for most of her clients to have suffered from such traumatic childhoods, but this guy also showed signs of a complex mental illness. She wasn’t comfortable enough to diagnose him, but suspected either schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, or maybe both.
Leigh slipped out of her office and went to Dr. Gadbury's office next door. His door was cracked open, his voice subdued as he spoke into his cell phone. "Later, okay? Make an appointment... Yeah, I'm looking forward to it... Wear that thong I got you... Okay, bye."
She grimaced. Her boss wasn't married, and who on Earth would want to wear a thong for him? Great, now her mind had been polluted with images she didn't want floating around in there. She waited until he set the phone down and opened his laptop, then gently tapped on his door.
He jumped. "Uh, come in?"
"Hi," Leigh said as she opened the door and lingered at the threshold. She had to spit it out already, or she'd never say anything. "Listen, Dr. Gadbury, I have Mitch Perkins coming in soon, and..."
"Mm-hmm..." He typed slowly on his laptop with the hunt and peck method. "What about him?"
"He has some serious issues that I don't think I'm equipped to handle. Would you be able to take him on as a client instead?"
Dr. Gadbury hunted and pecked for a couple more seconds, then glared at her over his glasses. "Changing counselors could cause undue trauma to his psyche. He’s disturbed, but harmless."
"But he's—"
Dr. Gadbury held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. "You need to prove that you can handle any client that comes your way. I'll be right here reviewing your session. Now, if that's all?"
His standard dismissal. What more did she expect? Leigh nodded and returned to her office. Why Dr. Gadbury couldn’t—or wouldn’t—take this case, she didn’t know. Perhaps he was testing her mettle. Or perhaps he was a spineless jerk. Maybe both. But either way, she had to show him she could handle any client who came to her office.