Social media was great that way. Not only did it show a change in relationship status from engaged to single, it also told him who the newly single gentleman was in New York…her boss. From what he gathered, when Heather was no longer of use for the Broadway production, she was no longer of use to him. Asshole.
Clay didn’t regret being her rebound or revenge guy, whichever she was aiming for. There was something intriguing about her, sweet, and pure. Not likely an opinion most would walk away from an ordeal such as theirs with, but despite the loose nature of their entanglement, he couldn’t help but be drawn to her.
Everyone knew everyone in St. Helena, at least by a single degree of separation, so it was easy to find out about those that you may not know and had only heard of. The town bragged about its celebrity dancer off in New York making a big name for herself. She was painted as a town favorite, America’s sweetheart, if you will. It was unfair, almost, giving her such praise and cementing an expectation she could no longer sustain.
She referred to herself as washed up and her expression and body language, combined with a newly broken heart, made it pretty obvious that no one was holding her to that expectation more than she was holding herself to it. The more he learned about Heather, the guiltier he felt. She was the kind of girl you take home to mom and plan forever’s with, not take to the closest dark place and rock her world.
What had he been thinking? What did that say about him? He thought he could pull off the one night stand deal, but clearly he couldn’t. As much as he wanted to say he was committed to the single life, he couldn’t, especially after Heather. Was it possible to be so attracted to someone after a thirty minute conversation in a bar and a quickie next door? A hot quickie…
He obviously had some emotional crap to sort through, and reclaim his man card when he was finished. He was feeling like a vulnerable sap, full of sensitive feels, and that just wasn’t him. He felt like punching himself in the face and saying, man up, pussy! That should do it.
A loud crashing sound pulled him from his thoughts as he completed his purchase. A small crowd was forming by the time he made it outside, to the front of the store. His first reaction was to see if everyone was okay – that was just the doctor in him – but he was met with laughter and handshakes instead of injuries…crisis averted.
He stood there longer than necessary, his sights loosely on the fender bender in the front of the store, using it as an excuse to spy on the beautiful blonde still sitting in her car. What could she be thinking about, he wondered? Was it him? Them? Why did she seem so distraught – was the previous night that bad for her? He began to feel a bit insecure and self-conscious when he saw her look in his direction and duck down.
His ego was completely shot when her urgent desire to get the hell out of there became obvious. In her rush to leave unseen, she backed right into the pole anchored behind her parking spot, before tearing out of there like a bat out of hell. Yep…she was avoiding him.
“Poor thing can’t seem to catch a break.” A sweet voice, that he would recognize anywhere, came from behind him. “After what Nora put on that computer thing she does, with all the pictures she takes with her phone, I’m surprised to see you out here.”
Chichi Deluca, one of the elder ladies in town, leader of the old bitty brigade, and chief of mischief stood behind him with a sympathetic look pinned on him. Chichi and her gray haired lady friends had a finger on the pulse of St. Helena. If it was happening within a hundred mile radius of town, the ladies knew it, and were probably behind it. The prying ladies were always good intentioned, and respected by the towns people. Exception being Nora Kinkaid…the town feared her.
“I’m sorry…did I miss something, Chichi?” Clay was trying to piece things together with the little bits of information shared, but he already had a nervous chill. Nora, and her Facebook habit, in the same conversation as him and Heather couldn’t be good.
Chichi chuckled, seeing the wheels turn, and anxiety fester. She let him off the hook quickly like a ripped off band aid. “You’re all over that Facebook. Nora has pictures of you and Heather posted for the whole town to see.”
Pictures, Facebook. Nora. Clay did a face palm sigh, less embarrassed for himself than he was worried for Heather.
“I have to say, Doctor Walker, you do make a mighty handsome couple. You would be quite perfect together in fact. Good choice. The ladies and I are cheering for you,” she said.
“Wait. What? Cheering for what? I’m not sure you saw what you think you saw…”
“Oh c’mon, Clay. It was plain as day. You and Heather were in a sultry embrace, lip locked, and clearly…enjoying each other. Good for you! She’s a dear girl, you’ll be excellent for each other,” Chichi chided.
“Really? You think so? Wait! No, don’t do that!” he fired back.
“Do what? Clay, darling, are you okay?” Innocence was her plea, but he wasn’t buying it.
“That! You’re doing that…thing you do. You like Heather, you like me, and you think we need to be together so you’re…doing that thing!”
“Oh Clay, honey. I had nothing to do with you and Heather being together, in front of the dance studio, in the middle of the night. That was all you, dear.” She gave him a wink and pat to the shoulder before walking away.
Touché…
Chapter 4
A long morning and early afternoon of endless not quite runny noses, unfounded fevers, and an abundance of flirty moms, even single ones, in low cut tops and short skirts generated Doctor Clay’s overbooked schedule. Like full moon craziness, his office was pure chaos. He knew he was well liked by team mommy and me – they found him more desirable than elder docs.
He was always flattered, but his goal wasn’t to meet mommies; it was to heal sick children so he took it all in stride. Today, however, it was like an army of curious moms, after something, and he hadn’t a clue what. He thought about suggesting the new pole dancing class to a few as a way to redirect their unwavering advances, though a few husbands might have thanked him, he thought better of it.
There must have been something in the air, perhaps a few local poker tournaments leaving the town’s wives lonely? Who knew, but it was enough to get him out of the office mid-day for a bit of fresh air and an infrequent sugary treat and fluffy coffee drink to distract his nerves. Brewing Grounds was a quick walk, and exactly what he needed.
The delectable scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweets welcomed him at the door, as did the rowdy giggles from the far corner of the seating area. A handful of women sat at the table with books in their hands – perhaps a book group – but one in particular had his attention. Heather.
Her face was buried in her hands while the others snickered. What could that be about? He caught the eye of Chichi, who was flanked by her gray haired bitty brigade, and who also seemed to have an eye on him. Her knowing grin and wink tinted his cheeks pink at the realization that this had something to do with him.
Frankie Deluca hollered his way, with a surprised yet satisfying look, confirming his suspicion, “Hey, Doc McSteamy! How’s it going?”
Heather’s body stiffened at the mention of his name, or what was his inferred name, anyway. She slowly lifted her head from her hands, and slowly turned her stiff body his direction. Her eyes were wide with shock, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment, and her jaw fell to the floor when she met his eyes.
Quickly getting to her feet, she gathered her things and tossed a few hushed words at the women around her before charging off. She stopped in front of him, a look of anxiety meeting his happy to see you smile. Her mouth was moving, but nothing was coming out as she looked left then right, as if searching for the words she had lost.
“Hey. You okay?” He let her off the hook, tossing a glance at the table she came from, still snickering, genuinely concerned.
“Oh, yeah. They’re just… just… teasing me a bit. It’s what they do,” she finished with a half assed unconvincing chuckle. “Look, I have a class in a few,
so I, uh…gotta go.”
“Right,” he said, before lowering his voice, “have…fun.”
She gave him a weak smile and a nod before looking down, mouth open, as if she was about to say something. Thinking better of it, she closed her mouth, gave her head a subtle shake and walked off. He stood there, watching her all the way to the door, unsure what to think.
She seemed upset, or maybe it was just awkward considering the night before. Either way, he wanted an excuse to see her again, talk to her. Who knew exactly why, it just seemed like his next move.
“Hey there, Doc.” Molly, the owner of Brewing Grounds Book Store, interrupted his thoughts with a forced cheerful greeting. “Twice in one day, how’d we get so lucky? What can I get for you?”
Clay nodded his head at her. “Yeah, it’s just…” he turned back to the door where he last saw Heather, then to the corner table that was still full of eyes on him, before finishing his thought, “one of those days, I guess?”
“You can say that again,” she said in response to more snickers coming from the corner.
“Hey, am I missing something? The giggles, McSteamy comment, then Heather seemed…I don’t know.” He really didn’t know, how could he reconcile her behavior and determine whether it was normal or not? He really didn’t know her.
A puzzled look of suspicion filled Molly’s expression. “You really don’t know, do you? Have you seen…it?”
“It? Should I know what we are talking about here? This it…does it have a name or…”
A slight pause rested between them as Molly did some reconciling of her own. “Come with me,” she said.
He reluctantly followed while she was leading him to the hornets’ nest in the corner that was quickly hushing as he got near. Walking into that circle of ladies felt like walking into certain death or the bowels of hell. A fearful chill struck him since being the only man in the hen house, couldn’t play out in his favor, no matter how nice each of the women were individually. When in a pack, they acted like a pack.
One woman in particular had him sweating; it was the old woman, the pack leader, Chichi. She had her stare stuck on him with a grin that was either friendly, or menacing, he didn’t quite know which. She was the type to bring you cookies and wine just because, as much as she was a meddler. She was the one he didn’t entirely trust, especially given their encounter earlier in the day…she was in match maker mode.
Molly spun the iPad that had been resting on the table, around to where Clay could see it. A few swipes of the screen and Facebook popped up. She handed it to him with what felt like a bit of reluctance, and a deep disappointing sigh that instantly made his gut sour. He wasn’t going to like this.
Nora Kinkaid’s face and name headed the screen – yep, definitely wasn’t going to like this. He looked at the recent posts of random town slander that included a city streetlight that had gone out and the increased traffic as the town readied for the upcoming town Cork Crawl and Fall Fling event. Then he saw it.
A post about Seth and Molly caught in the act of something with a less than flattering picture and tagline. Ouch. What Clay wasn’t anticipating was the sting that would follow the next post…it was him and Heather. In a heated kiss. Just as unflattering tagline.
Rolling his eyes with a deep sigh, it all began to make sense. He thought back to Chichi’s comment in the early hours in front of Picker’s Produce, Meats, and More – pictures all over Facebook, handsome couple, sultry embrace. Chichi had told him about the post and it went right over his head since he was so distracted by Heather.
The mom mob. No wonder his schedule went from manageable to over the top. Speaking of tops, low cut, it all made sense. Had they interpreted this post as some sort of dating advertisement? Were they wanting their tonsils checked, as Nora put it, too?
Heather’s awkward behavior was adding up too. Sitting in her car, and avoiding the grocery store. Backing into the pole in the parking lot in an effort to get out of there quickly and ultimately to avoid him. Not to mention her inability to make eye contact and need to get the heck out of dodge the minute she saw him in Brewing Grounds.
“This is…” he began to say.
“Hilarious!” Frankie snorted, “First Molly and fire boy, now you and twinkle toes. This is getting good.”
“Good? How is this…” Clay waved his hand over the iPad, indicating his reference to the Facebook post, “good?! This brought every kid in town to my office today – no one was sick!”
Laughter broke out amongst the group. They were enjoying it far too much, but more so were just glad that it was someone other than each of them on the receiving end of Nora’s Facebook antics!
“Look around,” Molly offered. “I haven’t been this busy…ever. Note the clientele – mostly men.”
“Ahh, geez. That stripper reference, ehh?” Clay dropped his comment in such a nonchalant manner he may as well have been commenting on the weather.
“Uh, yeah…that,” Molly replied.
“So, check any tonsils, Doc?” Frankie was an asshole without a filter. The town badass and pot stirrer.
“Charming…” he replied, his tone dripping in sarcasm as Frankie was anything but charming – pain in the ass was more like it. “And no, I didn’t even put it all together until now. What am I saying? I would never… Oh, forget it.”
“So you’re only interested in Heather’s tonsils?” Sara, Heather’s sister chimed in, sipping her coffee as if this was just regular conversation. Her sly grin, hiding behind her coffee cup, wasn’t lost on him, or the rest of the ladies as they each followed suit with a giggle.
“No…I mean…yes…I mean…” Clay ran a hand through his hair. “I mean this shouldn’t even be on here. It’s an invasion of privacy and was blown completely out of proportion.”
“Blown isn’t the word I would have used, but I see where you are going with that one, Doc,” Frankie replied.
“Look, dear. Why is this such a bad thing?” Chichi was calm, cool, and calculated. He knew where she was going with this, given their prior conversation, and history of relationship manipulation. “I think you make a fine couple and if you want to…check her tonsils, go for it!”
“She isn’t interested in a relationship. I don’t want to force the issue – look, we don’t even really know each other!” he defended.
“Uh, Doc Walker, the picture kind of suggests otherwise,” Lexi jumped in with her two-cents, clearly joining the team of meddlers.
Frankie tossed one finger in the air, as if an idea had suddenly sparked and needed to be voiced. “And…you didn’t say you didn’t want one…just that she didn’t.”
“Why yes,” Chichi added, with a bit of enthusiasm, “and it’s usually the words we don’t say that speak louder than those that we do.”
The masses were forming, and creating an alliance with their philosophical BS as they dug through his words, or lack thereof, to use it all against him. Chichi seemed to have new recruits, of the younger version, to add to her meddlesome mob of matchmakers. Sara seemed far too eager to get her sister’s match made, obviously finding him an adequate match.
As endearing as that could be, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of anxiety drift through him because he didn’t stand a chance against this group, with Chichi at the helm. He was screwed. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Chapter 5
As the day retired, and sun began to set, Heather closed up the Barre and Tap for the night and made her way around the building to her upstairs apartment. She tossed her bag by the door, and collapsed on the couch, ready to put the awful day behind her. No evening classes were on the schedule, so she could cuddle up with a tub of ice cream for dinner and sappy movies so she could drown in the tears that had been threatening all day.
To her surprise, classes were pretty much in full attendance, despite the town notice Nora sent out via Facebook. She did, however, notice a few stink eyes from the mom bench, even some from the married ones. What was that all ab
out? This was just several shakes of salt on the proverbial wound. New York over, love life over, stuck in a dead end small town, and now the talk of such. Awesome. She was going to need a bigger spoon.
Ice cream in hand, she wandered back to the living room where she planned to hug a blanket and pretend she was anywhere else in the world. As soon as her ass hit the couch, a knock at the door startled her right back to her feet. She wasn’t expecting anyone. The only one that ever stopped to visit was Sara, and she had just said goodnight to her moments before at the dance studio.
A second knock convinced her it was someone she knew, so she answered – instantly regretting that she did. Clay Walker was standing there, take out bags in one hand, and flowers in the other. What the hell was this? She aggressively grabbed him by the front of his shirt and briskly yanked him inside before poking her head out the door, looking around for lookyloo’s – namely Nora Kinkaid.
“What the hell, Clay? What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone a little harsher than she intended.
“I uh, saw the Facebook thing. I wanted to see if you were okay, and apologize.” He was nervous and she could hear it in his voice.
“Why would you need to apologize? You had nothing to do with….wait, or did you?”
“No, No…promise. I was as surprised as you,” he defended. “Besides, how could I take the pic if I was…you know…in the pic?”
“Good point. So what’s all this?” she questioned, pointing to his hands full of stuff.
“Oh! Well, I thought maybe we should talk. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and thought maybe food would help?” A sheepish grin crossed his face, his sincerity working overtime on her hard edges.
“And the flowers? We going to eat those too?” Crossing her arms, her eyes narrowed, waiting to see just how far he was going to take this.
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