Chapter Eight
WINTER
I bundled the boys and their basket into the vet clinic just after four. I hadn’t made an official appointment, but both Deacon and Wayne had said to just turn up, so that’s what I did.
Courtney, the receptionist, seemed very confused, but when Deacon came out and saw me, his smile damn near stole my breath. Courtney seemed to notice too, because she did a little wiggle in her seat when Deacon ushered me into the examination room.
Pretty sure Deacon didn’t notice, but I did.
He was wearing his cute vet uniform and a huge smile, with flushed cheeks. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”
He looked at the basket I was still holding. “I was talking about Merry and Bright.”
“Oh.” I snorted, because of course he was. “Yes. They’re doing great! But I worry that Bright isn’t getting enough to eat, and I was wondering about introducing solids.”
“Your text messages,” he said quietly.
“Yes. Sorry, I kept pressing Send and then I worried that what I’d said could be taken a dozen different ways and—”
“You didn’t reply to me.”
I stopped. “Oh. I’m sorry. I got so busy.
Well, first of all, Ro confiscated my phone for a while.
We had to test the point-of-sale system again and the accounts program.
It’s all integrated, as you know. Of course you know; you’ve seen it.
Anyway, I had some invoices to pay. I wanted to get them out of the way before I open tomorrow, and the accounting software should be automated but it wasn’t automating.
Anyway, I found the reason. It was totally my fault, which is not surprising in the least. God, I’ll stop talking now. ”
He was staring past me, in that way that he does, his eyes darting to mine for a second before going back to the basket. He reached in, found Bright in his little warm hidey hole in the blankets.
“He looks bigger already,” he said, and thus began the actual vet appointment. He weighed them both, checked them both over, asked all the questions about feeding and toileting. He was very happy with their progress. Even sweet little Merry passed with flying colors.
Deacon produced some samples of kitten food and showed me how to put a small amount on my finger and see if Bright was interested.
Oh boy, was he interested.
He made the cutest little savage noise as he munched on my finger. “Ow. Well, those little teeth sure work fine,” I said, looking to see if he actually drew blood.
He hadn’t, thankfully.
Deacon laughed as Bright went a bit feral looking for more of my tasty finger. “Oh yes, he’s ready.”
Then it was Merry’s turn.
I put some on my finger. Merry’s little eyes went wide and he licked at first, but then greedily gobbled it down, making the cutest little noises ever. “Ooh, gremlin mode activated,” I said. “But he’s still the sweet one. Bright’s permanently in gremlin mode.”
Deacon’s smile was everything.
The way he held Bright made my heart so freaking happy.
He then showed me how to introduce more and more solid food over the next week, and noted that within two weeks they should be off the milk formula for good.
I was excited to hear that, even if it meant they were growing up so fast.
“I ordered one of those kiddie playpen things,” I said.
“Because they can’t stay in the basket forever, and a bunch of different toys that simulate learning.
” I’d probably spent far too much money on them, but whatever.
“It will fit in the storeroom at work if need be. Just while they’re so little, it might have to be bring-your-kids-to-work days. ”
Deacon made sure they were both back in their blankets with the hot water bottle. “You’re doing a great job with them.”
“Thanks.”
His cheeks went pink again. “You’re wearing the scarf I gave you.”
I patted the purple polar fleece. “I love it.” Then I pulled the ends of it out of my sweater. “Even if the logo is a worming medication, the text is black, gray, and white, and those are the asexual flag colors. So you literally couldn’t have picked a better scarf for me.”
He ducked his head, his expression happy and shy. “I did some research on that.”
“So I’m not like a Komodo dragon or a starfish anymore?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No.” Then he shrugged. “Unless you want to be.”
“Uh, not particularly.”
“I understand it better now.”
“I’m glad. But if you have any questions, you can always just ask. I’m an open book.”
The blush on his cheeks ran down his neck. “I like books.”
Oh, damn.
“Me too.” Wanting to leave on a good note, I picked up the basket. “I better get going. I’m having a chill evening with Ro before the big opening day tomorrow. It’ll be an early start.”
He held the exam room door for me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, stopping at the reception desk. “The book you wanted. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro—”
“Sir. Sir Kazuo Ishiguro.”
“Sorry, yes. Sir.” I didn’t even mind that he corrected me. “I’ll be sure not to sell both copies. It’s a great book, by the way.”
He gave a nod. “It is. Perhaps you could order in a copy of Howl’s Moving Castle. That way I won’t need to borrow yours.”
I grinned at him. “Perfect.”
He gave a nod and stood there while I paid for my appointment and the stack of new kitten food I’d just bought. While I had my phone out, I found his text messages and thumbed out a quick reply.
Thank you for seeing me today
His phone beeped behind me, and when I got to the door, I turned to see him reading it, grinning at his screen.
It made my heart squeeze and thrum in the very best of ways. I was still grinning like a loon when I got home.
“Oh, someone looks very happy,” Ro said as she took the basket from me.
I sighed dreamily. “I am.”
“Things went well, I take it?”
“Yep. And you know what?” I put the pile of kitten food cans on the kitchen counter. “I think I’ve cracked the code.”
“What code?”
“The Deacon Clark code.”
She snorted. “I didn’t realize he was some code that needed cracking but do go on.”
“Not him,” I amended. “He’s not the code, but the code to maybe dating him.”
She gasped. “Dating? Uh, hold up. Stop the phone and hold the press.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how that goes.”
“What do you mean dating? You want to date him now? What happened to ‘I’m not looking’ and ‘I’m not interested’ and ‘I don’t have time’ and ‘I’ve sworn off men for all eternity’?”
I sighed. “Well, those things still apply. Kind of. And I did say ‘maybe dating him,’ not actually dating him.”
“But you are,” she said. “Considering dating him because you said you cracked the code.”
“Well, maybe. I don’t know.” I turned and looked at her. “I like him. I do. He’s cute as hell, and you should have seen him in his cute little vet uniform, and he blushed so hard. It was the most adorable thing ever. And the way he is with the boys. Oh my god.”
“Okay, so I think we can safely assume we’re well past the maybe-wanting-to-date-him stage, because Win, my dear, you are down bad already.”
I chuckled. “And yet, less than twenty-four hours ago, I was sure there was no way.”
“What changed?”
“I think I figured out where I went wrong.”
“Ah, the dating-Deacon code. Do tell.”
“That’s just it. I think we need to actually date and not just hang out.”
She stared at me for a good long while before she blinked. “Huh?”
“Courting. I’m going to court him, and maybe he’ll court me back.”
“You’ve read Pride and Prejudice too many times.”
I laughed. “Never. But think about it. We can exchange pleasantries, small exchanges, nothing too big or overwhelming.” Then I decided to go full Jane Austen. “We can take walks two feet apart at all times, hands behind our backs. The yearning will be masterful.”
“Yes,” Ro cried. “With an escort at all times. And should you be so bold to show some ankle, you’ll be forced to walk the streets with a red A painted on your chest while the townsfolk throw mud and insults at you.”
I laughed. “Not showing the ankle! Oh, the horror.” I looked down at my socked feet. “Actually, if I ever show any part of my disturbingly pale legs in public willingly, please see it for the sign of duress that it is.”
Ro chuckled but waited for me to continue, to explain.
“I don’t know . . . I just think maybe we tried too hard in the beginning,” I said.
“We were trying so hard to be friends, but given we’re both so awkward, it was a disaster.
I think we need to grow closer organically.
And become friends by getting to know each other in small amounts first. Does that make sense? ”
Her eyes locked with mine and she nodded. “Totally.”
“So maybe a coffee date first. I’m not sure.
No, maybe not. More like a lunch break date.
Short and sweet and simple.” I shrugged, realizing that maybe it all sounded better in my head.
“We exchanged a few texts today; that was fun. Then at the clinic, I saw him for all of ten minutes, and it was all sweet and shy. I think I learned more about him in those shorter interactions.”
Ro made a face, and I knew she was about to impart something I didn’t really want to hear.
“You learned about him in the longer interactions too,” she said gently.
“Where he panicked and left, or when there was a misunderstanding. That’s also him.
And there’s nothing wrong with that, but try not to romanticize the shorter, sweet stuff.
You will have to spend longer bouts of time with him if you want to date him. ”
“I know,” I relented. And I did know what she was saying was true. “But if we have shorter mini-dates to begin with, I think we’ll understand each other better, and he’ll trust me more.”
“I think he trusts you already.”
“Maybe. But I want him to trust me to the point that if he does have questions, instead of overthinking and getting to a panicked state, he could talk to me. Ask me questions instead of being too shy, that kind of thing.”