3. Markus
CHAPTER 3
MARKUS
I smile down at Rufus, who grins up at me as we jog away from Adam and Drusilla.
What was that ?
A surprise is what it was. Adam stopped me in my tracks, literally, sure, but in other ways too. I’ve never felt anything close to the intense attraction I feel for Adam.
On Saturday, when I was walking through downtown and came across the city hosting some fire-department ceremony, I noticed Adam in his formal uniform standing so tall and proud and…very handsome. Then, after the applause and back pats, I caught the real show as he stripped down to nothing but a pair of swim trunks right there in the street.
He sported a six pack that was more like a twelve pack of stunning, chiseled abs. To say the sight had given me pause is an understatement. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. When he caught me watching, he grinned. Sweet lord that wicked grin.
Then my phone chimed with a new voicemail from my mother, and that was the cold shower I needed to stop ogling the stranger. But now, I jogged right into him. Met him and his dog in a tangle of leashes?—
Heh. Sounds like some sort of kink: tied in leashes. My mind wanders to a few new places with that image in my head. Jogging faster, I try to outrun my thoughts.
Of course, I can’t. I never can.
Rufus and I finish our run at the steps of the apartment above the veterinarian clinic. Home Sweet Home , reads the kitschy little flag next to my door. It’s so cheesy, but it makes me smile every time I see it. The But First, Pray sign the former residents hung in the kitchen is less endearing.
When I first explored leasing this building, I couldn’t see past the shortcomings of the musty old clinic with its outdated technology. It was in desperate need of a top-to-bottom rehabilitation. I decided it was not the place for me, but then the realtor mentioned that it came with fully furnished living quarters upstairs. My small business loan was only going to stretch so far, and the prospect of paying rent on top of loan payments was daunting. The moment I walked into this place with its retro decor and sunny yellow kitchen, I knew: this would be my home. Signed the papers that very day.
I hang Rufus’s leash by the door and head to the kitchen, pour some food for him, then jump in the shower. When I’m in my uniform of scrubs and Crocs—not particularly fashionable but comfortable for a long day on my feet and easy to clean after a shift—Rufus and I head downstairs. We each have our own routine. While I turn on the lights and sweep the floors, Rufus sniffs.
He walks from room to room, inspecting the large animal pens that sit empty and unused, waiting for clients who need a place to board their animals when they go on vacation. Does anyone vacation away from Krause though? So far, I haven’t gotten that impression.
In the lobby, I set a pot of coffee to brew, a perk for clients and a way to liven up the aromas in this place. Less musty, wet-dog stench, more fine-roasted goodness. With the new smells, the burned-out lightbulbs replaced, and the coat of dust scrubbed off the surfaces, it looks almost nice in here, comfortable, at least.
At the front desk, I grab the phone and rest it in the crook of my shoulder to listen to the after-hours messages. There are three, mostly people asking long-winded questions about my services. Simultaneously, I fire up the old computer to check my schedule for the day.
It’s going to be a busy one. There’s my interview with a candidate for the receptionist position, plus four cats and eight dogs scheduled for wellness checks and vaccinations. Also, I’m meeting with the guy who said he and his brother could paint this place for me.
As I continue to listen to messages, I turn to my new filing cabinet to pull out the paper records I’ve made for my appointments—until I can make this office fully digital—and get tangled in the long, twisted phone cord. It’s a fresh reminder that I need to talk to telecom vendors about upgrading the computing and phone systems in this place.
The last call is from Kailee, my receptionist job applicant, informing me we’ll need to reschedule her appointment because “something came up.” Not a good sign. When I hang up the phone, I’ve managed to tie myself in a knot with the cord. My mind flashes back to that glorious entanglement of leashes. A much better predicament than I find myself in now.
I can picture Adam so perfectly; his gorgeous green eyes, red-tinged hair cut into a low mohawk, and that heart-stopping smile. His smile hasn’t been far from my thoughts since I first laid eyes on him. But this morning’s entanglement was different, so close, almost intimate. He’s so big, too, like a lumberjack with thick, axe-swinging arms. His smell though—that’s what surprised me the most. He’d been sweaty from his run, and his masculine musk was like an aphrodisiac. I’d wanted to clutch his sides, feel his powerful body beneath my fingers, and bury my face in his neck to breathe him in.
The clinic door swings open with the clatter and tinkle of the little bell over the entrance and spares me from my wandering thoughts. Rufus rises from his bed beside the front desk, meandering over to greet the tall, blonde woman and small, brunette boy who’ve come inside.
The woman and I stare at each other for a beat as she takes in the sight of me all tangled in the phone cord. She lifts the cat carrier she’s holding out of Rufus’s reach when he approaches for an inspection sniff, so he focuses on the little boy, who gleefully smiles and pats my gentle giant on the head a couple of times.
I try to gather my thoughts as I extricate my legs, saying over my shoulder, “Hi, you must be PB and J. I mean…”
When I’m finally free of the phone cord, I come out from behind the front desk, hand extended. The woman’s handshake is firm, her eyes direct, and before I can correct my earlier mistake, she does it for me.
“Hi! I’m Dee, this is Mateo, and these little fluff balls”—she gestures at the cat carrier, still held aloft from Rufus—“are indeed PB and J.”
I chuckle, both at the woman’s forthrightness and at her cats’ names. “Excellent. Come on back. Rufus, you keep an eye on things up here.”
The little boy grins at the dog. “Bye, Rufus!” he says and pats his head again. Rufus loves kids and gives Mateo a face lick that sets the boy giggling as Dee leads him and the cats into the first exam room.
The kittens are nervous about the clinic. Mateo tries coaxing them out of their carrier with no luck, so Dee reaches in and pulls them out, earning a few scratches for her effort.
PB and J curl into themselves on the exam table, ears flattened and meowing with worry as they look for an exit. Now, it’s Mateo who manages to soothe their nerves with pets and whispers that everything will be okay. I’m gentle, too, as I look at their teeth, eyes, and ears, palpate their lymph nodes and joints, listen to their hearts, measure their temperature, and weigh them, then consult their vaccination records. Recruiting Mateo to help, I get him to spray a little spray cheese on the table for the kittens to enjoy, then microchip them and administer their core vaccinations while they’re distracted. When we’re all finished, I reward the kittens with affection and a couple treats for their troubles before Dee returns them to the refuge of their carrier.
I work on updating the kittens’ files, directing my questions about their health and activity level to Mateo, who is clearly the “owner” of these two adorable furballs. He speaks like a proud papa when he tells me, “They can do the whole obstacle course now, even the part near the ceiling!”
Obstacle course? As if seeing the question on my face, Dee answers, “Drew and Chloe’s cat Bodhi only has three legs, so Drew built an obstacle course for him. When we moved into the house, we kept it for PB and J.”
Instantly, I remember my new three-legged patient. “Oh! I’ve met Bodhi. He and Utah came in last week. Great little guys.” And I remember their cat mom inviting me to her?—
“Which reminds me,” Dee pulls an envelope out of her shoulder bag and hands it to me, “I heard Chloe invited you to her wedding. So I will too.”
Dee’s wedding invite reads, “About Damn Time” at the top and I wonder about the story behind that. Before I can ask, Mateo says, “I get to carry the rings!”
Dee smiles at the boy and ruffles his hair. “You have the most important job of the whole wedding.”
He beams with pride. It’s adorable.
Dee turns back to me. “Wear whatever you want, as long as it’s white.”
“White?”
“Yes, I want everyone to dress in white. It’s weird, I know, but I’m the Bridezilla, and what I say goes. It’s not a formal affair, so wear some tighty-whities if that’s your thing.”
Tighty-whities? I hesitate, insisting, “You don’t even know me.”
Dee laughs like my reluctance is ridiculous. “You’re good with animals. That’s all I need to know. And I’m sure we’ll see you at Chloe and Drew’s big day this weekend, right?”
This town is so odd. I’ve now been invited to two weddings, a quincea?era, and a competitive bowling league. But will the good people of Krause still welcome me with open arms when they learn I’m having lusty thoughts about one of their firefighter heroes?
Out in the lobby, the bell over the door chimes. Dee and I nod, which I guess means I’ll be attending her wedding. Explaining that I’ll bill her for this visit at her next one—once I still need to set up the accounting software—I give them courteous farewells as we leave the exam room.
In the front lobby, a small woman is losing a tug-of-war battle with a massive dog, so I hustle over to assist her. The dog seems desperate to follow Mateo out the front door. Rufus helps to run interference, and I manage to get a hand on the leash so I can also help. “You must be Mrs. Newman.”
“Och, call me Angie, please. And this here is Elsa.”
After I’ve helped Angie maneuver Elsa into one of the exam rooms, I open my mouth to ask a few questions, but Angie keeps talking. “Elsa is a rescue, and I don’t know her full history. I’m assuming she’s never visited a vet. She was a mess when the shelter called to place her with us. You clean up good, don’t you girl?” She bends down to say that last part to the dog and is rewarded with a sloppy kiss on the cheek. To me, she continues, “Today, I want to get her flea meds and dewormer, install a microchip, and get started on a course of vaccinations.”
“Sounds good.” We work together to keep Elsa calm as I perform my exam. Again, a dollop of spray cheese helps with distraction while I get her chipped and vaxxed without much trouble.
The woman keeps talking between answering my questions about Elsa’s appetite and energy levels, a fount of information. “She seems fit as a fiddle to me. One of the healthiest rescues I’ve taken in. We—my family and I—run a dog shelter. We take in dogs who’ve been used in fighting or who’ve suffered neglect, clean them up, teach them some manners, and try to adopt them out.”
I’ve heard this story before, just this morning. Scrunching my face in concentration, I scrutinize the details of this woman, her green eyes and graying red hair. “Are you related to Adam?”
The woman’s face positively lights up. “Do you know my Rooster?”
I chuckle at the nickname and consider how to answer. Do I know Rooster?
Not waiting for my response, Angie jumps right in, gushing about Adam. “I’m his proud momma. He’s great with the dogs, something of a dog whisperer, and he can easily handle these giant beasties since he’s a big strapping firefighter…”
She keeps talking, but I’m only half listening. All I can focus on is the memory of Adam’s face and the dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. It feels strange how Adam keeps popping up in my mind, in my space, and in all the spaces around me. Strange, yes, but in a good way. A very good way.
I want to ask his mom about him. She knows everything, and I want to know everything too. But I keep my questions to myself and school my reactions, plastering a thin smile on my face as I focus on my patient, efficiently performing the remainder of Elsa’s exam, even as my mind wanders to places it shouldn’t go.
“So tell me about you.” Angie jolts me from my thoughts. “Are you single?”