Chapter 8
Type A - Meet Sexually Frustrated
I pace my cabin like a tiger at the zoo, glancing out the window every three seconds.
The sky outside is clear, not a cloud in sight, which feels cruel, considering the storm in my head.
Jamie’s going to be awkward around me now, I just know it.
For fuck’s sake, he hired me as a vet, and I practically threw myself at him.
That was so unprofessional. Maybe he’ll tell me to leave.
Maybe I should already be packing, heading back to New Jersey by nightfall.
And really, who could blame him for not wanting to be around an emotionally frozen workaholic like me? Parker cheated on me—my boyfriend of a year—inside my own house less than a week ago.
Maybe I really am exactly as undesirable as he made me feel.
When the crunch of tires reaches my ears, I fling the door open before Jamie has even shut off his truck engine.
“Hey, look, I’m sorry about today,” I say, launching myself at him. “It was unprofessional, and I think I got swept up in the moment, and no one’s complimented me in ages unless I’m—well, you know—and I—”
“Whoa, slow down.” He leans back against his truck. The collar of his dark green flannel gapes just enough to show the vein beating at his throat. His hands rest casually in his pockets, and every inch of him radiates calm. Except for the pulsing of that damn vein.
“I don’t want this to be weird between us.” Translation: Please don’t send me to New Jersey.
He shifts on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. “Weird? Uh…yeah, maybe a little. But not in a bad way. I just haven’t kissed anyone in…well, a really long time.”
“Well, I can promise it won’t happen again.”
“That’d be a shame.” He tips his black cowboy hat down, gaze darting to the snow. “I liked that kiss. More than I probably should’ve.”
“But you practically sprinted away!” I stare up at him. I’m five-eight—five-ten in these boots—and I still have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.
“Had to take my daughters to school.” He shrugs. “And to be honest, I’m not really versed in this whole situation.”
“You mean the kiss.”
“That, and…talking to attractive women.” He clears his throat, cheeks flushing. “I’m rusty.”
“Hence the dad joke.” I nod. His nervousness is endearing in a weird, charming way.
“I do that when things get awkward,” he admits. “Also, it’s Honey’s favorite joke right now.”
“It is cute, I’ll give you that.”
“My point being is that I’d be interested in trying again. Kissing, talking…whatever.”
My pulse kicks. “Noted.”
“You look especially cute when you blush like that.”
“I’m thirty-two years old. I do not blush.” I swipe at my cheeks. “It’s just cold.”
“Cold looks good on you.” His eyes land on my lips.
“Seems like the flirting’s coming back to you.”
“It’s easy when I’m around you. I’m just…a little out of practice.”
“With kissing?”
“And the flirting.”
“And how do you think it’s going so far?” Externally, I look like I have it together, back straight, chin tilted. Internally, my body is an inferno, and I’m seconds away from ripping the buttons off his shirt and dragging my nails through his chest hair.
“I think it’s going mighty fine. On account that I can see your heart beating under this adorable sweater you’ve got on.”
“Mr. Wilder!”
“Only fair since you called me a lab rat this morning.” Jamie tsks. “Look, I don’t know what this is yet. But it’s comfortable. And it’s been a long time since I thought about anyone in a way that felt comfortable.”
I can’t help smirking. “I’ve never been very good at comfortable, either.”
“See? We can figure out how to be comfortable together.”
“I should warn you—I suck at letting people in. Work gets in the way. I’m terrible with emotions.”
“With you? No way,” he teases, and I knock my fingers on the brim of his hat. His laugh rumbles through me. “Let’s just enjoy the next month. But if it’s all right with you, I’d like to take it slow.”
“Slow as in…”
He laughs. “You want a research paper that defines slow?”
“Yes. Do you have one?”
“We’re gonna have fun together.” Jamie lifts his hand toward me, then freezes, fist clenched, unsure.
I should be happy. I’m about to start a holiday fling to tell Miriam about, but curiosity burns through me.
Am I just a rebound from his wife?
Do I care?
“Can I ask what happened to your—” I stop myself. What if he starts crying on the spot? I usually have a box of tissues for my patients. I could offer him my sleeve?
“My wife?”
I don’t want to look at him. “It’s rude of me to ask. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Been over nine years. Tessa moved to town when I was in middle school, and we kinda just stuck.
” He looks over my shoulder at the cabin, then up at the trees.
“We got married the summer out of high school, had the twins a year after. But she was never happy here. Always wanted to see the world. When the twins were six weeks old, she photographed the northern lights and landed a gig with National Geographic. After that, she was gone more than she was home. Her team went out on a ledge in Iceland they weren’t supposed to, and—” His jaw tightens, a shadow crossing his face.
“That must have been hard.”
“Harder on the girls. They don’t even remember her.” His posture softens an inch as his gaze settles back on me. “I loved her. But we’d been growing apart for years. I was angry for a long time. Now I just want to give my daughters the best life I can.”
I swallow. The tenderness, the responsibility, the heartbreak—it’s a lot. I reach out, touch his arm, and his large hand clamps over mine.
I’ve never met a man so okay with being vulnerable.
“You’re a good dad.”
“I try. Though apparently not good enough at makeup.”
“I can teach you when I help them on Saturday. Seems like you’ve got plenty more dances to survive.”
“Thanks, Joy.” He exhales, then smirks. “Do you dance?”
“Are you asking me to the Cranberry Social?” I joke, wanting to break this tension. “Because after the snowshoe incident yesterday, I don’t think I can show my face at their school ever again.”
“No. Was gonna see if you wanna come to the bar on Friday. Girls are staying with my parents, and there is a live band.”
“I’d like that.” I smile, then frown. That’s three days from now. “What am I supposed to do until then?”
“Relax.” His large shoulders lift.
“Relax?”
“Guessing taking a nap is out of the question.”
I laugh manically. “You’re hilarious.”
“You’re cute with this whole workaholic schtick you’ve got going on.” There’s a playfulness in his eyes that makes me giddy.
“I don’t get called cute.”
“Probably why you overwork yourself.”
He swipes my bangs out of my face, and I swat his hand.
“If you keep doing stuff like that, it’s going to be very hard to take things slow.”
“I think slowing the pace will be good for you over this next month.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, suppressing a smile. “You didn’t hire me to just sit around.”
“‘Hire’ sounds so ‘formal. Let’s just call it your civic duty to volunteer at a sanctuary. Add it to that resume that you’re so worried about.”
I cross my arms. “The one you hung up?”
“Guess you gotta come over and find out.”
“You want me in your room already?”
“Who said it’s in my room?” Under his mustache, his mouth smirks dangerously.
“Is it?” I challenge.
He tosses his hands up, a half-smile on his face, and it’s infuriating. “Well, since you refuse to rest, you can help me in the barn in the mornings, then come hang at the café after. Not much else to do, but you can borrow any of my books.”
“The Gandhi books?”
“I’m more into fantasy.”
“Oh yeah?” I tilt my head. “What kind of fantasies are we talking about?”
His eyes darken. “The kind I’m not sharing until you buy me that drink on Friday.”
“Guess I’ll have to wait, then.”
“Guess so.” He laughs that deep, easy laugh that makes my ribs ache. “Sorry to cut this short, but Honey forgot her homework, and I swear Ms. McNeil yells more at me than the kids if they are late for an assignment.”
“So, I’m just supposed to hang out here?”
“You wanna come to town?”
“No way. I need to devise an elaborate revenge plot against your sister before I dare show my face at that café again.”
“Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “See you later, Doc.”