Chapter 6
“Excuse me, but we’re getting ready to close … oh, that’s who you meant by Jamie!” the hostess says with an audible gasp. “We always call him Senor Wahlberg.”
“It’s okay, Marisol.” Jameson looks somewhat embarrassed, a slight pink hue covering the back of his neck.
His eyes dart between mine and hers, as I notice has happened quite often tonight.
Maintaining eye contact is either a challenge for him, or he’s very uncomfortable in my presence.
Honestly, it’s a toss-up which one it might be.
“Can I order something to go?” I ask the hostess.
“Sure.”
“I’d like the arroz chaufa, please.”
“Oh, that’s my favorite as well. Make that two, Marisol.”
“Coming right up!”
“Why James Young?” I blurt out as the hostess walks away.
Jameson smiles. “Well, James is a play on my actual name. And Young is after my favorite quarterback growing up, Steve Young.”
“What should I call you? You seem to have a lot of names.”
“Jameson or Jamie. My friends call me Jamie, or QB if they’re being scrappy. If we’re going to be working closely together, I’d like to think we’ll become friends, don’t you?”
It’s incredibly hard to put a lid on the internal squeal just begging to be let out. “Jamie it is.”
Once we have our to-go containers, we set off toward the parking lot.
As we approach the front door, I can see our reflection in the glass.
I watch as Jamie begins to place his hand on my lower back, then hesitates.
He runs the hand through his hair before dropping his arm against his side. I’m not sure what to make of that.
As I walk in the direction of my car, Jamie falls in step beside me. “I’ll be out of town the remainder of the week for a sponsorship deal. Next week I have some team things in the mornings, but I can meet again to begin actually planning the event. Will any night next week work for you?”
“I’m flexible.” I’m not flexible. I’m wide open. Other than work and a dress fitting for the charity event my parents guilted me into attending, I have nothing to do. My social calendar is a travesty.
“I’ll, uh, get in touch with you soon.” Jamie looks at me expectantly, jolting in my direction.
Lunging toward me, he suddenly plants a kiss against my cheek, and I’m too stunned to respond.
“It was really lovely meeting you, Audrey. I wasn’t looking forward to planning this event, but I certainly am now. ”
I assumed I wouldn’t hear from Jamie for a few days, so I was undoubtedly surprised to find a text from him the following morning. Seeing the name James Young makes me giggle, and I immediately change his contact info.
QB
I need to know what the word of the day is.
Me
Polyglot.
QB
What the hell does that mean?
Me
It means someone is fluent in multiple languages.
QB
Clearly that is not me. Do you speak any other languages?
Me
No, but I can understand a fair bit of Spanish. Just don’t ask me to speak it, or I’ll ask where the bus station is, and we’ll end up at an underground rave.
QB
In your defense, an underground rave IS a ride.
Me
That is true.
QB
I have this natural interest in random facts, so I tend to be swayed into rabbit holes on a fairly consistent basis. Did you know the first rave was reported to have happened in the nineteen eighties in the United Kingdom?
Me
I can honestly answer that I didn’t know anything about raves before this conversation.
QB
No hardcore partying in college?
Me
No. I was determined to graduate in three years so I could move on to vet school quicker.
QB
Why?
Me
Long story.
QB
Is this your version of me not wanting to talk about why I founded my charity?
Me
Yes.
QB
Noted. I’ll honor your boundary just as you’ve respected mine.
Me
Thank you.
QB
You should know something, though.
Me
What?
QB
I bought my own word-a-day calendar. My word for today is reify.
Me
I don’t think I know that one.
QB
It means making something abstract more concrete or real.
Me
I will, without a doubt, never use that word in a sentence.
QB
I realize you’re right.
Also, realize is a synonym for reify.
I like words.
Have I scared you off a little?
I reify my personality is a lot.
That does NOT roll off the tongue as easily as realize.
Kinda feeling like you blocked me, Audrey.
Me
Sorry. Someone dropped off a box of guinea pigs they found in a park nearby. I was helping my office manager sort it all out.
QB
Oh, shit. Are they okay?
Me
Seems like they are, but my knowledge of guinea pigs is pretty limited.
QB
Want me to call my friend Jax? He has a billion of them.
Me
A billion?
QB
That may be an exaggeration. I think it’s six or eight. Has an entire room devoted to their cages and everything. It’s elaborate, and pretty neat.
Me
Would he be interested in fostering them?
QB
I don’t know. He’s in and out of town with the Denver Wolves, so any care would fall to his wife. I won’t answer for her.
Me
Jax? Jax Mitchell? The hockey guy?
QB
You know who he is?
Me
I do. I don’t pay attention to hockey as much as I do football, but I can follow the game. I only became aware of him after he married his wife, though. I always thought she seemed like a neat person when I watched her forecasts.
QB
I cannot wait to tell Jax that you like his wife better than him.
Me
That’s not exactly what I said …
QB
I paraphrased.
Me
You already told him?
QB
Yup. He said he’ll stop by your clinic after lunchtime. If I had to guess, it’s because he’ll be bringing his wife.
Me
I just did a little happy dance. Thank you!
QB
My pleasure. But next time, record the happy dance, please.
Me
I’ll take that into consideration.
It’s probably good Jamie didn’t see me react when he said he’d send Jax Mitchell my way.
I may not follow hockey too much, but I know who he is.
He’s incredibly handsome, and has the most amazing Texas twang.
But, as a woman with an affinity for science and technology, I may have a little bit of a girl crush on Becca Stephens.
Or is it Becca Mitchell now? Is there an eloquent way to ask if a woman has taken her husband’s last name?
Hello, I’m Audrey. Have you decided to continue on in the antiquated tradition of losing your own identity?
Well, that probably isn’t the best way to put it.
I peer into the cage at the five frightened guinea pigs.
I had a small plastic hut that I put on top of a bed of hay, and four of them managed to squeeze inside.
The fifth one only got its head inside, choosing to burrow as far into the hay as possible to hide its body.
Poor things. I can only imagine what they must be thinking.
I quietly leave the back room, walking down the long hallway of my clinic.
When I purchased the clinic years ago, I immediately changed the name.
My predecessor had chosen a name based on location, and I wanted something cuter.
I settled on Precious Paws Veterinary Clinic.
I decorated the space with pops of blue and yellow, because those are the two colors dogs and cats primarily see.
I added extra insulation between my exam rooms, because I’ve always hated how paper-thin walls seem to be in clinics of all kinds.
An anxious dog doesn’t need to be made even more frantic because of every sound reverberating off the walls.
It’s bad enough that they’re at the vet.
I want my space to be as calming as possible for them, and I’m pretty damn proud of the environment I’ve curated.
When I hear a very loud gasp, I look up to find Chelsea staring wide-mouthed out the window.
I may not consider myself lucky in a lot of ways, but I know how lucky it is to have my best friend working as my office manager.
“Aud, why is there an absolutely gorgeous woman walking toward our door with a man who bares a remarkable resemblance to Jax Mitchell?”
Leave it to my lesbian best friend to explain Jax and his wife like that. “They’re coming to give me advice on the guinea pigs.”
She turns to me, brows furrowed. “You know you’re the vet here, right?”
“I know. But I don’t get a lot of rodents in here. Jax is apparently pretty knowledgeable about them, and …” I break off, trying to figure out how to explain how I know Jamie, “…a mutual friend suggested he come to help.”
“Mutual friend?” she asks, as Jax and Becca open the door. She glares at me as she hisses, “You’re not off the hook, ma’am. We’ll discuss this later.”
I nod as Jax approaches, a friendly grin stretched across his handsome face.
Arm around his wife, he’s wearing fitted jeans, a blue henley that perfectly matches his eyes, and a worn Denver Wolves baseball cap.
Becca smiles warmly at me, and I immediately notice her tee shirt, which says ‘women belong in all places where discoveries are being made.’
“I love that shirt,” I gush.
“Thanks! I’m pretty partial to women in STEM,” she says with a laugh.
“Me too! Well, duh. I mean, that’s obvious.
I’m a vet. It technically falls under science.
I guess it sort of falls under engineering as well.
Maybe even math? Vets are jacks of all trades, really.
But I guess meteorologists are too. You definitely get the technology aspect of STEM.
Did you know that they’ve now added the A for art to the category?
Now it’s STEAM. I guess neither of us gets to say we regularly use art in our jobs.
Well, maybe you do, a little, if you do any projects when you visit the elementary schools.
That must be fun, right? I’d probably freak out and I become a chatterbox —” I break off, horrified.
“You two are going to be great friends,” Jax says with a chuckle. “My lovely wife here also likes to monologue.”
“Jacob!” Becca says, eyes wide as she lightly slaps his chest. “That isn’t something you tell people!”