Chapter 3 #2
“I’ll meet you back here in an hour. If I buy something I can’t carry, I’ll text you and have you bring the truck around,” she says.
My eyes widen. “What are you planning to buy?”
She whips out her phone and opens her notes app.
“For the arts-and-crafts room I’m working on at the Landis’, I need a couch, a coffee table, a wingback chair, and a Tiffany lamp base.
The Olsen place is a mid-century modern theme.
For the guest room and kitchen, I’m looking for a table, a clock, a—”
“Okay.” I hold up my hands. “I get the picture. You need a lot of stuff.”
“I do. And I probably won’t find most of it today, but if I do . . .”
“I’ll be a good sister and help you drive it to your storage unit.” Normally, I’d be annoyed that I’m being asked to play chauffeur for her antiques, but since I know my sister and brother-in-law will be advancing me some cash, I owe it to them.
“You’re the best.” She beams.
Daphne makes a beeline for some of her favorite vendors.
While she scavenges through each item on display, like a mouse hunting for a piece of expensive award-winning French cheese, I head in the opposite direction where the food trucks are, in search of something caffeinated and some dessert. After the week I’ve had, I deserve it.
I take my time studying each of the chalkboard menus before my nose leads me to the Lucky Dog Diner’s food truck.
The diner is famous for its pies. They have the perfect graham-cracker crusts that melt in your mouth.
It’s just the right balance of sweet and savory.
Add a dash of their fluffy homemade whipped cream, and you have the world’s best dessert. The perfect comfort food.
As I walk toward the end of the line, I count at least fifty people ahead of me.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who wants a slice of pie.
At this rate, it might take the full hour to place and receive my order.
Time I don’t have. My shoulders hunch. I guess I’ll have to settle for something else.
Just as I turn and start for the crepe truck next door, I hear, “Dr. B! Dr. B! Over here!” Fernando waves at me near the front of the Lucky Dog line. “Come, join me.”
I feel guilty cutting in front of everyone else who has been waiting, but I really want that piece of apple pie. I keep my head lowered and try my best to ignore the glares sent my way.
“Hi, Fernando,” I say, a little breathless. “Hope you’re enjoying your Saturday.”
“I am.” He nods. “But it’s better now that you’re here.”
He says it so casually, I almost miss the way his eyes flicker over me for just a second longer than friendly. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking.
“How are all the animals doing?” I ask.
“Much better now that my friends Gemma and Tim are home.” He laughs.
I noticed the first time we met that Fernando is one attractive man. But I didn’t notice it. It’s like background music becoming your favorite song. He has a strong, angular jaw dusted with a thin layer of stubble. His thick chocolate-brown hair matches the warm, rich shade of his eyes.
As my gaze travels down, it’s not hard to miss that Fernando likes his clothing to be formfitting.
His T-shirt is stretching over the defined planes of his chest and the broad span of his shoulders.
Whenever he moves his arm, the sleeve strains against the curve of his bicep.
His jeans ride low on his hips, fitting like they were tailored just for him, hugging powerful thighs and showcasing a firm, sculpted bubble butt.
If my sister were around, she’d say his body reminds her of Chris Evans as Captain America. It’s shaped like a Dorito. Heat sears in my cheeks. Ugh. I won’t be able to look at those chips the same way for weeks. “That’s good to hear.” My voice comes out slightly higher pitched than normal.
“I don’t know who was happier, the animals or me.”
“I’m sure they appreciated having you around.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugs. A few muscle cords in his neck pop. “Either way, I’m relieved to pass off the responsibility. Now I can focus on my upcoming trip home.”
We shuffle forward a few inches in line.
I force myself to focus on his face instead of letting my gaze wander elsewhere.
He has sharp cheekbones softened by a few fine lines that fan out from the corners of his eyes and mouth.
They’re not age lines, but rather lines from years of laughter and smiles. “And home would be . . .?”
“Santa Luz, Spain.”
“Mmm, Spain would be such a nice place to visit right now.” I add it to the mental list of places I could go on vacation. “What part of the country is it in?”
“The south. About forty-five minutes from Barcelona.” He slips his hands into his pockets. “How about you? Are you from Sequoia Valley?”
“No. I actually grew up in Wilmington, North Carolina. It’s a coastal city three times the size of here. Our claim to fame is being close to the Carolina and Wrightsville beaches.”
“That’s how Santa Luz is too. Most tourists visit us for the beaches. Think white sand. Blue seas. Some tropical fish.”
Oh, he’s making it sound even more tempting. The beach would be one of my top reasons to visit Spain, except we’re going into winter. And even though Spain is on the Mediterranean, it’s probably still too cold to swim in. “How long are you going for?”
“About a month. I save up my vacation time all year so I can make it worth my while.”
I nod. “That’s smart.”
“Do you get back to Wilmington often?” he asks.
“Not since college. My parents sold the house I grew up in a couple years ago and moved out here to California. They wanted to be closer to my sister and her kids.”
“You’re lucky they’re close.”
“I am now. But it wasn’t always that way. When I was in college and vet school, I could only get home once or twice a year.”
We spend a few minutes chatting about our families. I share a little bit about Daphne and my niece and nephew. Fernando mentions that he’s an only child, but has a large extended family.
“I’m curious. What made you decide to leave Spain?”
“I caught the travel bug.” He grins. “When I was twenty, I was recruited for a job on a cruise ship. I spent a year traveling up and down the Mediterranean and loved being in a new city every couple of days.”
We move up in line a few places. “How romantic!”
“If you’re a guest on the ship it is, but not for crew members.” He laughs. “We had bunk beds in rooms about the size of a walk-in closet.”
“Ouch.” I wince. “I don’t know if I’d last in a space that small.”
“Not many people can, myself included. It’s why I started looking for another job that’d let me travel six months in,” he says.
“Got it.” A tingle runs up my spine. “But I have another question. If you’re all about traveling, how did you end up here in Sequoia Valley? It’s not exactly as exciting as somewhere like London, Paris, or Rome.”
“One of the women I used to work with is from the area. When I was looking to change jobs last year, she let me know about an opportunity here in town. I came to visit, fell in love with the scenery, and poof, here I am.”
Before I can ask Fernando more questions, it’s our turn to order.
“Fernando! What are you doing here?” the guy inside the food truck asks. “You didn’t have to wait in line. You’re a VIP. You should’ve come around back and had Gemma or me get you whatever you wanted.”
“Part of the food truck experience is about waiting in line.” He leans casually against the window ledge. The sun hits Fernando’s hair, highlighting a few golden streaks among the brown. “Besides, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to chat with the talented Dr. Brown.” He winks.
“Hi Dr. Brown.” The man leans out the window as far as he can. He’s in a Lucky Dog Diner shirt, and has a hairnet over his brown hair and a baseball tattoo on his arm. “It’s good to see you outside the vet’s office.”
“Likewise,” I say, trying to play it cool. I’ve never met them before. They were Dylan’s clients, but now, I guess they’re mine. I hold up my hand in a meek wave. I glance to Fernando for help.
“This is Tim, Robin’s cat daddy.”
“That’s me. Thanks for everything you did for her. My girlfriend and I really appreciate it. I swear, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say Robin is secretly a mutant cat. She always seems to teleport her way outside. I should’ve named her Nightcrawler.”
I relax, and we shake hands. I have no clue who Nightcrawler is, but I remember what Fernando mentioned the other day about his friend loving comic books.
“Gemma is working the pickup window. She’ll want to say thanks too.” Tim nods toward the opposite end of the truck. “Now, what can I get you guys?”
“I’ll have the cherry cobbler and a coffee. Dr. B?”
“The apple pie and a coffee for me.”
“Great.” Tim hits a few buttons on the register.
“What do I owe you for my half?” I ask.
He waves me off. “You’ve got the friends and family discount. It’s on the house. Gem will call your order number when it’s ready.” He hands Fernando a receipt, and his eyes dart between the pair of us. “Enjoy, you two.”
“Did he just wink at us?”
“Yes. Just ignore him. I do.”
Does Tim know something I don’t? This is only the second time I’ve ever met Fernando. We didn’t even plan to meet here. It just happened.
“So, Dr. B, I’m curious. What’s your first name?”
We head over toward the pickup window to wait for our number to be called.
“It’s Ava.”
“Ava,” he repeats. “That’s a very pretty name.”
My cheeks warm. “Thank my parents.”
He chuckles. “Do you mind if I call you that instead of Dr. B?”
“No, I’d prefer it. It’s my only day off, and I’d rather just be a normal person today.”
“You work on Sundays?” He blinks in surprise.
“Not always, but I am this week. I do a low-cost vaccination clinic for cats and dogs once a month.”
“That’s kind of you,” he says.