Chapter 10 #2
“Yes, we!” she yells. “I’m invested now! I want to see him in action. Hell, I want to see you in action. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen you all twitterpated over a boy.”
“I’m not twitterpated. I have never been twitterpated.” I stare blankly at her, crossing my arms in frustration and defiance. Emotional attachment was never okay growing up, and I’m not starting it now.
Chelsea comes to sit next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“It’s okay to say you like a guy. It doesn’t mean you’re stupid, or immature, or any other bullshit your parents told you.
It means you’re human. We have thoughts, feelings, and we’re naturally destined to gravitate toward one another.
You’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to do. ”
I hate how she zeroed in on everything I was thinking. How I was raised to think emotions were inferior, and crying definitely wasn’t allowed. Any fighting amongst family members was done in private, because we had a reputation to protect. The name comes first, above all else.
“I really don’t think he’s interested,” I confess softly, dropping my eyes to my lap.
Wringing my hands together tightly, I continue.
“I’m afraid it’ll hurt me more when I get confirmation of that.
Right now, I can live in blissful ignorance that it doesn’t matter.
That we’re just peers, working together for charity.
But the moment we initiate any kind of plan to find out if he’s interested, I have to acknowledge that I do like him …
and that he quite possibly doesn’t return the sentiment. ”
“I have a back-up plan if that happens,” Chelsea announces. “It involves a donkey, goose feathers, glitter, and a lot of old fish.”
“A donkey?” I sputter, laughing loudly.
“Yup. Probably a baby or a miniature one. They have small donkeys, right? It’ll need to fit in Jamie’s car. Because there’s no way he’d expect a donkey in his car.”
“I think the fact that I’m a vet means we probably shouldn’t use animals in any sort of revenge plan.”
Chelsea huffs. “You’re no fun sometimes.”
We spend the evening watching Love is Blind, and I shoot down idea after idea from Chelsea about how we can figure out if Jamie likes me or not.
It was a surprisingly fun night, and it makes me wonder if this is what typical girlfriends do.
I didn’t have many friends growing up. I was awkward and uncool, and my parents vetoed any potential friendships they didn’t approve of.
By the time I got to college, I didn’t know how to establish a bond with other women.
The first time I met Chelsea, she point-blank told me we were going to be best friends. And that was that.
Monday morning, I enter my clinic to see Chelsea with an evil glint in her eyes. “What did you do?”
“Nothing … much,” she replies sweetly.
“What on earth does that mean?” I shrug off my coat, hanging it on the hook behind the front desk.
Some places might consider the beginning of May to be the start of summer, but in Colorado, we still get cold stretches — and sometimes snow — into the middle of the month.
It’s cloudy and raining, with a temperature in the upper forties, and that cold just soaks into my bones.
“Well, I may have reached out to our favorite quarterback to request he help move some boxes this morning. You shouldn’t leave your phone unlocked when you know I can memorize phone numbers so quickly.
And saving him as QB in your phone? So adorable!
But it’ll help having him here to organize the boxes.
You know, because he’s so tall. And built.
And Jesus — so much better looking in person!
” she gushes, her eyes locked on someone behind me.
“Uh, thanks, I guess?” I hear Jamie answer, and my heart skips a beat.
While we’ve certainly kept in touch the last few weeks, I haven’t heard his voice.
The deep timber of his voice flows slowly over my skin, and goosebumps pop in its wake.
Turning, I almost lose the ability to speak.
He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap, and glasses.
It’s simply unfair how hot he really is.
“Hi, Jamie,” I say, and his answering smile makes my knees weak.
“Hey, Doc.”
“Jesus Christ, I think I just came,” Chelsea murmurs behind me, before clearing her throat to speak up. “Thanks for coming in to help. I’m only a couple of inches taller than Audrey, so it’s very helpful to have someone a billion feet taller than us.”
He chuckles, then winks at me. What the fuck? He winks at me!
“It’s no problem. I didn’t have anything to do this morning anyway, so it got me out of the house. My cats were beginning to think I’d become one of them,” he jokes. “What do you need help with?”
Chelsea points up, and my eyes slowly lift to find box after box of supplies jammed on top of the cabinets. Boxes that absolutely were not up there when I left Friday afternoon. She must have spent all weekend moving things around.
“Why’d you put this stuff up here in the first place?” Jamie asks, grunting as he grabs the first box. An inch of perfect skin is visible as his shirt rides up, and I find myself gaping.
“Close your mouth,” Chelsea hisses, but I find her staring as well. A sliver of his underwear is visible, and Chelsea whispers, “Calvin Klein.”
I raise one eyebrow at her. How the hell does she know the brand of underwear Jamie is wearing based solely on a tiny bit of fabric?
“You think I’ve never dated someone butch before?
I know male underwear.” I can’t help the snort that escapes.
Chelsea is girly and feminine, always sporting shades of pink dye in her hair and a plethora of nose rings depending on her mood.
I’ve only met a couple of her girlfriends, but I know she enjoys playing the field.
Chelsea is a true romantic, and feels when she meets ‘the one,’ she’ll know immediately.
My analytical brain thinks true love is an absolute myth, but who I am to shoot down her hopes and dreams?
“Where do you want the boxes?” Jamie asks, grabbing the last two.
“Oh, uh, over there,” Chelsea responds, pointing to the empty space right by the cabinets. Where the boxes originally were.
“Huh.” Jamie peers down at the floor, obviously noting the subtle discoloration. “Kinda looks like boxes were already here.”
Chelsea laughs loudly, then jumps when the phone rings. “Saved by the bell! Err, phone.”
As she dances off to answer the phone, Jamie walks to stand in front of me. He gives me a lopsided smile. “Wanted to see me again that badly, Doc?”
Okay. The nickname should not make me wet, but it does. “I swear I had nothing to do with that. Chelsea must have been in here over the weekend, because that’s not where I left the boxes.”
His smile dims slightly, then perks up again. “How’d she get my number, anyway?”
“I really have no idea. It’s possible she stole it out of my phone Friday night. There was wine involved, and I’m a lightweight. I’m sorry she contacted you out of nowhere. That’s such an invasion of privacy, and I know you value your personal life so much.”
He reaches up, dragging a finger around my ear, seemingly tucking in a loose strand of hair, and my sharp intake of breath is audible. “It’s okay. I’m guessing it was because of something you said. Do you ever wear your hair down?”
“Sometimes,” I whisper, captivated as his finger slowly traces down the side of my neck.
“I really want to see it down,” he says softly. “May I?”
I nod, aware my tongue has gone numb, and I’ve lost the ability to speak.
As I’m reaching up to take apart my bun, Jamie beats me to it, and I bite back a groan.
Every follicle on my head is standing up, screaming for attention, as he slowly unwinds the hair tie.
He places the tie on his left wrist, then pushes both hands into my hair.
When his fingers hit my scalp, I whimper.
I love having my hair played with. When I have trouble sleeping, I watch ASMR videos on social media to relax.
But this? This moment beats any sensation I could possibly get from watching a video.
“It’s fucking gorgeous, Audrey. You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, dragging his fingers along the tresses, then slowly wraps the ends around his hands.
If he pulls my hair right now, I will beg him to take me somewhere.
Anywhere. The damn closet in my office if need be.
I am two seconds away from orgasming in my clinic, just because this beautiful man touched my hair.
My eyes dart to his lips, and I watch, captivated, as his tongue slowly sneaks out to lick his bottom lip.
Good God. Everything he does is sexy. Does he even realize it?
I look at his eyes again, assuming I’ll find some kind of victorious or smug expression, but it’s not that way at all.
Instead, Jamie is looking at me like he wants me, too.
Like if I asked him to take me in the closet, he’d gladly do so.
This so complicates things.
“Dr. Carrington?” Chelsea’s voice permeates my lust-filled mind, and I recognize the tone. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but we have an emergency.”
I look up at Jamie, and he gives me a tender smile. “Go save the world, Doc.”
I’m unprepared for him to lean in and place an absentminded kiss against my forehead.