CHAPTER THREE
“That’s so cool you’re a vet. I like puppies. You must make a lot of money,” said the box of rocks sitting across the table from her.
Maggie Tucker stared at the glob of sauce dripping from her date’s lips. She used her napkin to wipe her own mouth, hoping he would take the hint. He didn’t.
“Right now, most everything I make goes back into the store, so not really,” she said, vowing then and there to never accept another blind date offer from a customer.
“Why’d you buy a pet store if you’re a vet?” The glob inched toward his chin.
Doesn’t he feel that? She had to look away before answering. “I’m a vet, but I also have an MBA. I thought it would be cool to combine the two. I still see patients a few days a week.”
Maggie loved being a vet, but after moving back to the city, decided to try something different. She’d purchased a worn-down but roomy pet store near Central Park, did a full remodel, and put up a banner that advertised “Under New Management.”
“Damn. You must have gone to school for a long time.”
“Eight years at North Carolina State University.”
“Dude, I don’t think I could do it,” he said, finally wiping his face. “You must be really smart.”
She shrugged. I’m still sitting here, so maybe not so much. Time to end this.
“Well, it’s been nice getting to know you, but my cat wasn’t feeling well when I left. I better get back and check on him,” she said.
“Good thing you’re a vet.” He laughed.
“Yes. Good thing.” Was this guy for real?
“Let me have the check brought over, and we’ll get out of here.”
Twenty minutes later, she’d lost the loser, but was still reeling over the embarrassing check-paying incident.
“That was awesome,” Maggie muttered as she let herself into her seventh-floor apartment.
She hung her navy peacoat on the coatrack next to the door and dropped her keys into a clay bowl that sat lopsided on a dark wood entry table.
Though obviously made by a kindergartner, she displayed it proudly—one of Toby’s masterpieces.
The living room was cozy and welcoming, dimly lit by a small lamp sitting on a glass end table. Oliver slept on an overstuffed, almond-colored couch.
“Hey, buddy. Thanks for holding down the fort.” She plopped down next to the cat and scratched his head.
After nine years in Raleigh, earning her degrees and working with her friend Doc, she’d finally returned home to NYC.
It’d been over a year now, and she still couldn’t believe the luck she’d had finding this place.
It was small, but it was only her and Ollie, so she didn’t need much space.
Renovated just before she moved in, everything was still new and shiny.
Maggie threw her feet up on the coffee table, and Oliver crawled onto her lap. While she might have been lucky finding the apartment and the store, she hadn’t been as fortunate on the dating front.
“You won’t believe what this one did, Ollie,” she said.
“He asks me out, picks the restaurant, and then with no warning, expects me to pay for my own meal? It’s not about the money.
I don’t care about that. But it was so awkward and embarrassing when he sent the check back to be split two ways after the waitress had already left it on the table. Can you believe that?”
He’d sealed his fate as a cheapskate when he left a measly two-dollar tip. She left her coat hanging on the back of her chair as an excuse to go back and leave more money on the table.
“Definitely not your new daddy,” she told Oliver. He rolled onto his back and stretched out shamelessly, enjoying the attention.
“After that train wreck, I deserve a treat.” Running down to the corner market for a quart of chocolate peanut butter ice cream and some Oreos would only take a second.
She’d just come through the door again when her cell phone rang. Juggling the grocery bag to the opposite hand, she pulled the phone out of her back pocket.
“Hello?” As she fumbled to answer, she hit the coffee table, banging her knee and dropping the bag of ice cream and cookies. “Ah, damn it!” she blurted without thinking.
“Mags? The D-word, huh? You okay?” It was Jenny. Maggie wasn’t big on cussing, so every bit of profanity stood out.
“Hey, Jenny. Everything’s fine. I just walked in the door.” Dropping down onto the couch, she rubbed her shin. “And into the coffee table,” she muttered.
Why did she have to be so clumsy? “How are you?”
Jenny laughed. “I’m great. Fantastic even. I was calling to make sure you were still coming over tomorrow.”
“Are you kidding? I can’t wait. It’ll be the highlight of my week.” Unfortunately, this was true. It was possible she was the only single, twenty-eight-year-old in the city that considered a Friday night dinner with her aunt’s family “big plans.”
“I’m bringing brownies, so don’t fuss over dessert,” she told Jenny.
“Ooh. Homemade? With the peanut butter chips? Man, I love those brownies.”
“And chocolate frosting made from scratch. Only the best for you.” It had been two years since Jimmy’s death, but she still felt like she had to take care of Jenny and the boys.
She’d been wrong about their happily ever after. Just before their thirteenth wedding anniversary, Officer Jimmy Johnson had been shot and killed in the line of duty while responding to a robbery in progress call at a local bank.
Upon hearing the news, Maggie immediately arranged for time off from the clinic and left that same day for New Jersey to stay with Jenny and the boys for a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks. A few weeks into a month. And a month into two.
It had been a gut-wrenching time for everyone. Watching Jenny’s anguish up close broke her heart, but even that was nothing compared to the utter and helpless despair she felt for Toby and Jack. It fell to her to talk to the boys about everything that was happening as Jenny just wasn’t capable.
To compound the boys’ pain, their Uncle Mitch had abandoned them.
Mitch and Jimmy had been partners for nearly eight years, and he was considered family.
She’d never met him, but she would have welcomed the help.
He was the one person Jenny would have allowed in the house and the only person who never did show up.
“I wanted to tell you I invited Jimmy’s partner Mitch and, miracle of miracles, he’s free and planning to come. I still can’t believe you two haven’t met.”
She’d been trying to get them together for years. Even before Jimmy’s death. It was troublesome because Mitch had his own family to spend the holidays with, and the holidays were usually the only times Maggie came home.
“You’re not hoping to get us together, together, are you?” She laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’m not the kind of girl a cop would be interested in.”
“What are you talking about? You’re fantastic. Any guy would be crazy not to date you. Smart, funny, hot body, and not too hard on the eyes.”
Maggie ignored that. “Speaking of dating…when are you going to get back in the saddle?”
“Ah geez, Mags. Can’t we just focus on your pathetic love life instead of my non-existent one?”
“That hurts. You gotta be so brutal?”
“I’m sorry. You know I’m joking. I just can’t fathom that you haven’t moved past that loser Chase and found some hunky stud to rebound with.”
Maggie couldn’t believe it, either. After Jimmy’s death and her two-month sojourn with Jenny, she’d made a few life-altering decisions. One of which had been to break off her engagement to Chase.
She probably should have taken offense that Jenny was calling the guy she’d planned to live the rest of her life with a loser, but when you got right down to it, she was right.
Although to be fair, he wasn’t so much a loser as just a really boring guy.
She hadn’t had sex since the breakup, and the two years of celibacy was making her antsy.
Her relationship with Chase had been comfortable, but she’d decided she wanted more than comfort.
She wanted passion, heat, and what the magazines called “mind-blowing.” A relationship like that was exactly what she needed.
Or at least sex like that. Although, after two years of nothing, any sex at all sounded pretty good.
“It’s not like I haven’t been trying. You’d think in a city this size there would be more variety. All I’ve found is a fine assortment of jack apples. Wait till I tell you about the last jerk.”
All the men who asked her out weren’t measuring up. She couldn’t muster enough excitement for a second or third date, never mind sleeping with any of them.
“You’re right, though. I’m going to head down to the bar, pick up some dumb, good-looking beefcake, and put an end to my celibacy right now.” They both laughed, knowing she would do no such thing.
“Seriously, though, we should talk about this. I need to meet a different type of guy, and you need to meet a guy, period. We should plan a night out. What do you say?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jenny hedged. “We can ask Mitch about a good place to go. That is, assuming you two don’t lock eyes and fall madly in love this weekend,” she said in a dreamy, sing-song voice.
“Not likely. But even if it did, I’d still be your wingman. I’ll always have your back.” And she would. Just as Jenny would always have hers.
They chatted for a while longer and then hung up, agreeing to see each other the next day.