9. Markus
CHAPTER 9
MARKUS
“Oh, goodness, you’re Dr. Ely, the new vet, aren’t you?” The voice comes from behind me, pulling my thoughts from where they’ve been focused all afternoon: on Adam. It pains me to look away from him, down at the woman who’s speaking to me. She’s in her sixties, I’d guess, and she gazes up at me with wide, twinkling eyes. “It’s so wonderful to meet you. Did you enjoy the wedding?”
I open my mouth to answer, but before I can get a word out, she clasps her hand around my arm and hollers over my shoulder. “Rebecca, dear, come here.”
Rebecca? Who’s Rebecca? Glancing over, I see an attractive young woman in a red dress frowning at my conversation companion. When she hesitantly joins us, the older woman makes introductions. “This is my granddaughter Rebecca. She’s a junior at Southwest Texas State studying marketing. Rebecca, this is Doctor Markus Ely. He’s new to town, and he’s a doctor!”
“Actually, I’m a veteri?—”
“An animal doctor. ” Rebecca’s grandma—who still hasn’t told me her own name—clarifies, emphasizing that word.
Rebecca blinks at me. I blink at her. “Nice to meet you,” we both say and shake hands.
Silence follows, but it’s soon filled by Rebecca’s grandma as she makes some excuse to leave us alone.
Chuckling, I ask Rebecca, “Does this happen to you a lot?”
“Yes.” Rebecca grins. “Granny Newsom won’t be happy until I have someone put a ring on my finger and a baby in my womb, and you are an animal doctor, so all the better.”
I chuckle again but inwardly grimace at the idea that I’m an eligible bachelor in this small town, and that is likely the reason for all my invitations to weddings and picnics and bowling leagues.
“Sorry you’ve been saddled with this. Though, I am very pleased to meet you. It’s wonderful to hear that Krause finally has a vet again. Doc Evans’s retirement was a major hardship for this town. We’re glad to have you. How are you fairing?”
Before I can answer her question, someone shoves a champagne glass into my hand and grabs my elbow, yanking me away from Rebecca. I grimace with apology as I’m dragged away, then glance at my captor.
It’s Dee—the maid of honor and bride-to-be—looking lovely. Before I can ask why she’s dragging me from one end of the reception tent to the other, she tells me, “Come meet the crew.”
The crew? What crew? I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I get a pretty good idea when she takes me to the wedding party table. Dee comes to a stop and waves her arm to indicate “the crew.”
Drew and Chloe are in the center. He’s sitting in a chair with the bride in his lap, carefully feeding her cake, none of that mash-it-into-her-face nonsense with this guy. The two are clearly in love, and it’s enough to make my stomach somersault a little bit.
Beside them sits an attractive Hispanic man and the adorable little boy who visited the office for PB’s and J’s checkups. The boy plays with Bodhi and Utah and doesn’t even notice me. Dee moves over to the man and introduces him—Rico, her fiancé and Mateo’s father. Then Dee settles onto Rico’s lap and waves a dismissive hand to her left as she says, “And of course, you already know Rooster.”
Adam, the primary focus of my attention all afternoon, stares up at me from his seat. Candle light glows golden in his green eyes, and my God, it’s stunning how truly handsome the man is.
All through the ceremony, my attention was riveted to him in his dress blues, white gloves, and Pershing cap. He looked so polished, like he shined. His cap is set aside with his gloves now, and his dark, curly red mohawk is braided, making him look—from the starched collar up—like some Viking marauder of yore.
The look he gives me now has marauder vibes, too, fierce and sexy and?—
“Say something for the camera,” Adam instructs, interrupting my lusty thoughts.
The camera? I frown as Adam turns his back to me. Only then do I notice that he’s holding his phone to take video, and now he’s framed us both in the same shot, me staring like an idiot over his shoulder.
“Uh...hi,” I muster, lamely.
“Any well wishes for the happy couple?” Adam prods for more.
I look over at said happy couple, totally engrossed in each other. They have no idea I’m even here. Turning back to Adam and his camera phone, I push a smile onto my lips, raise my glass and say, “Cheers to a long and happy marriage.”
“Hear! Hear!” Adam says. He and Dee and Rico all raise their glasses with me and we drink.
Adam turns his camera on himself as he takes a sip of champagne, then winks at the lens and says, “Ciao, my brood,” before he presses a few buttons on the screen and sets it aside.
Ciao, my brood? What does that mean? I try to figure it out as I stand awkwardly in front of the table. Dee, seeming to sense my discomfort, leaves Rico’s lap long enough to grab my elbow again and lead me to an empty chair beside Adam. “Sit!” she commands, like I’m a dog.
I frown, but Adam quickly joins Dee in offering me the seat. “Yes. Please, sit. My plus-one wandered off when the dancing started.”
His plus one?
“She’s the dancing queen, and none other shall reign supreme,” he continues.
She. Worse than learning he brought a date to this wedding is learning the date is a woman. I could have sworn he was?—
“Challenge accepted! There is only one dancing queen here, and I will hold onto that title if it’s the last thing I do,” Dee shouts at Adam and kisses Mateo’s forehead as she steals his dad away to dance with her.
Adam hugs the little boy to him and makes some joke about his dad having two left feet. Then he turns to me. “This should be good. LT Dee is overly competitive on a normal day. Add alcohol and a dance-off, and we’re in for a show.”
The smile on Adam’s face is so beautiful, it has me smiling too. “LTD?” I ask, just to keep him talking.
“LT Dee.” He emphasizes the pause between the T and Dee. “We’ve been calling her that since Watts was promoted to Fire Chief and Dee took over as Lieutenant.”
Suddenly, I want to know everything about his job, about his role on their team. “What’s your title?”
“I’m the Driver Engineer.” He smiles, and it’s gorgeous, full of bright white teeth and bracketed by perfect dimples. Then, to my delight and astonishment, he sings, “I drive big trucks, and I cannot lie!” to the tune of “Baby Got Back,” and I laugh. God, I like talking to this guy. He’s easy to be around.
His smile widens, like he enjoys the sound of my laughter, and it feels like he’s flirting. The look in his eyes feels like flirting too.
With a little shrug, he adds, “Though, technically, it’s not a fire truck, it’s a fire engine. Engine Thirty-One. But ‘I drive big engines’ doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
He’s a little drunk; it’s clear in the free and easy way he talks about himself in that deep rumbly voice. I want more. Want to shower him with champagne so he’ll tell me in minute detail what the difference is between a fire truck and a fire engine.
But a slender redheaded woman with pretty eyes walks past me to drape her arms around Adam’s neck and in a singsong voice coaxes, “Come dance with me, you big cock.”
Oh. Kay. This must be his plus-one. I stand from her seat as Adam jokes that she’s too drunk to dance, and she’ll end up showing her underwear to half the town like the last wedding he took her to. She argues that’s impossible because she’s not wearing any underwear.
And that’s my cue to leave. With a little wave to Adam, I indicate I’m heading for the food table, but that’s a lie. I leave.
The appearance of Adam’s panty-free date is, well, disappointing. Clearly I’ve been imagining things were heating up between me and Adam. The man is here with a woman. Is he even gay? I know I can be socially awkward at times, but generally I’m pretty good at reading cues and signals. How was I so wrong this time?
Tugging my tie loose, I make my way to my car, already imagining what a quiet night in with Rufus will be like.
Heaven.