Chapter 16 #2
“Well . . . remember when we were trying to remember where we’d seen Jake in his lederhosen?” Carol turned toward me and let her sinister glare trace my face and body. “The one that left very little to the imagination about his Alpine . . . um . . . roots.”
I took that innuendo as a hint about where her eyes were headed. I turned quickly back toward the window before she landed anywhere near my midsection.
“Remember how we thought it looked so familiar?” She slapped the square booklet on the counter and started to open it up.
Oh God. My stomach dropped. My cover was blown.
“It’s right here in the last Hot Vets Calendar ever to be printed.” It was the only one to be printed. She let it flip open, holding it up to Sheila and Eric. “Barktoberfest!”
There was twenty-six-year-old me, in full—albeit very short and tight—lederhosen, holding a soft golden retriever puppy in the crook of my arm next to a youthful Chic wearing a matching dog-friendly version of the outfit, a new litter of rambunctious pups rolling around him.
My hair was a little longer and my muscles a little more sinewy—I remembered hitting diet and exercise hard in the weeks leading up to that shoot to ensure I looked defined.
My face turned warm at the recollection. I was young and it was for charity.
“Carol, why do you still have a calendar from so many years ago?” I groaned.
“This is a collector’s item, Jake! I will never part with this incredible fundraising work of art,” she said, waving the calendar in the air. “Besides, how else do you think I scouted for veterinarians to train under Doc Brown?”
Carol, along with a couple others in town, had served as a recruiting committee of sorts to find an apprentice for Dr. Brown to eventually replace him.
“I had no idea I was chosen because of how I looked in suspenders,” I deadpanned.
“Funny that you think it was the suspenders,” she said through tight lips toward Sheila.
Eric snickered from the other side of the desk.
“Stop it. That’s not true,” Sheila said as she playfully smacked Carol on the arm.
“It certainly didn’t hurt his case,” Carol replied under her breath.
“Jake, do not pay her any mind. While the photos in this particular year of the veterinarian calendar are especially memorable, none of us knew this was you,” Sheila said.
The calendar campaign had always only featured pets in its photos.
All except for this particular year, which had ended up being the most successful year for the charity as far as I knew.
“But now that we do . . .” Carol said with elation.
The whole town would know soon enough. I shrugged it off.
As much as I dreaded this getting out, I guess I’d invited it the minute I walked into Cheers and Cheese wearing the silly costume.
The look on Ali’s face, though. The sound of her laugh.
The feel of her by my side the entire night. Worth it.
“Mmm . . . mmm . . . mmm.” Carol was making noises of approval as she flipped through other pictures in the calendar.
“Hell-ooh there, Dr. May the Fur Be with You.” She flashed Sheila the photo she was referencing, and they both got lost in a fit of giggles.
He was a modern-era Tom Selleck–type, photographed shirtless (of course) with a shih tzu with a Chewbacca haircut.
It didn’t make as much sense as Barktoberfest, but at least Carol had moved on from the October spread.
My gaze drifted out the front window again, into the square. Hoping for a glimpse of Ali. And an opportunity to observe Wyatt Sinclair. I told myself it was just to make sure that this influencer wasn’t angling for VIP treatment anywhere it didn’t belong. Anywhere unprofessional.
“Have you asked her out yet?” Sheila asked from her seat behind the reception counter. Carol was still flipping through the calendar and making inappropriate noises with each month’s feature.
“What? Huh?” Play dumb, Jake.
“Asked her out?” Sheila nodded toward the square.
“Who? I’m just admiring the nice day.”
She eyed me with a knowing look. I wasn’t fooling anyone, and I already felt overexposed now that I was undeniably connected to the infamous calendar.
“Nope. We’re just friends.” My eyes flicked away from Sheila before I even finished the statement.
“What? Why?” Carol nearly whined like a kid being asked to do her homework.
“I’m not one to gossip,” said the grand marshal of gossip, “but I heard from Sam, who was chatting with Betsy, that she’s single.
Her ex back in Chicago was a real jerk. That I heard from Kelly, who was chatting with Tara.
You know that was the first intel she wanted.
Can you believe she calls herself Lakeside’s matchmaker? ” Carol asked.
“Kelly does?” I was completely lost in the gossip game of telephone.
“No, Tara! She may know flora and fauna, but she does not understand compatibility or love.”
“Who does she want to fix her up with?” I asked casually. Not sure I even wanted to know. If the town didn’t think I was a good fit for her, then who? A hard knot pulled low in my stomach.
“Don’t worry, she hasn’t come up with anyone yet,” Sheila said. I sensed the eye contact she made with Eric and Carol.
I tried to shrug—keep the casual ruse going—but my shoulders were already tight. This conversation and my unease about Wyatt Sinclair made me rigid and tense. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to settle myself.
“I wasn’t worried. Ali can date whoever she wants.” Then to Carol, “You may want to tell Tara or Kelly, or whoever thinks they’re a matchmaker, that I’m just not so sure Ali actually wants to date anyone.”
“Ooh, so you have asked her?” Carol asked.
“Well . . . I mean . . . not exactly.” I was fumbling for words. Felt cornered under the weight of their stares. There were so many nuances to the situation.
With a petulant huff, I threw up my hands. “I thought the town wasn’t supportive of Ali and me getting together anyway. I’m pretty sure we overheard you telling Eddie that I was too fragile.” I punctuated the words and directed it at Carol.
“Huh? When?” Carol asked.
“Open mic night a few weeks ago. You don’t remember? It was a big deal. Ali and I both heard it.”
“Oh, that? That was weeks ago. Before we knew her. I may have judged the situation too hastily,” Carol said without admitting she was wrong.
How could she be so fickle? In my mind, overhearing Carol and Eddie that night had stopped everything in its tracks. Damn it. What did it matter anyway what the town or Carol thought? My emotions were getting away from me.
“You definitely should ask her out now, though,” Eric interrupted from behind the reception counter.
“Not you too,” I said.
“I think most of the town is in agreement. Misha too. He thinks you’d be good for Ali. Your display of solidarity at Cheers and Cheese went a long way.”
“And we can’t help but notice your interest in her, Jake . . .” Sheila trailed off before saying with more emphasis, “You like her—we can all tell. And you’re a total catch, dear. You deserve to be happy with someone.”
“And the town stands with you. Just in case you overhear another private conversation and decide to hold it against a person . . .” Carol chimed in, still flipping through the calendar. Sheila shot her a warning glare.
“What’s holding you back? We all thought for sure Chee and Chee was your night,” Eric said.
“Chee and Chee?” I asked.
“Abbreviation for Cheers and Cheese.” He waved the explanation away. “We thought things were in the works after you both came out looking like a Bavarian power couple, but there’ve been conflicting reports since.”
“Nice to know we are the talk of the town.”
“You’re the one pining all over the place,” Carol mumbled.
I sighed and turned toward the window again.
“Are you still not ready to find someone? Is it because of Charlotte?” Sheila asked, her tone delicate, like she was coaxing a scared hamster from its burrow.
Charlotte? They think I’m hung up on Charlotte?
I exhaled slowly and let my shoulders drop.
I might as well say something on the matter.
This lot was not going to let it go, and I’d rather set the record straight than let rumors like that kick up dust. Charlotte was the furthest person from my mind.
“I’m going to say this out loud one time, and then we’re going to drop it. No more gossiping about if I’m pining or not. No more meddling. Okay?”
I looked at each person and exchanged a nod in agreement.
“I am, in fact, ready to find someone again. I have been for a while now.”
A megawatt smile stretched across Sheila’s face.
“But Ali is not. So she and I—we’re just friends. I’m not pining. I’m being a friend. And I’ll start dating again eventually.” I turned back toward the window.
Carol moved to my side and propped her chin in her hand, leaning on the sill.
“Hmm . . . I do love a slow burn.” Relentless.
I should have known better.
“Look. I appreciate you rooting for my happiness, but—” I stopped. Forgot the thought completely. Ali emerged from the Corner Store, Wyatt Sinclair following closely behind.
She stepped into the sunlight like a spotlight was following her.
Or maybe she was radiating the light from within.
She engaged in conversation with her entire self—bright, effortless, confident.
Making the person she was engaging with feel important.
Validated. Special. I knew all too well how incredible it felt to be close to her, and I craved it.
A man with shaggy hair stood very close to her.
Sinclair. He was angled a bit too into her personal space.
My eyelids lowered to slits. When Ali turned to lead him to the café a few doors down, his gaze went straight to her ass.
My fists clenched. I knew it. This fucking guy.
He dragged his thumb along his bottom lip, and I could see exactly what he was thinking.