Chapter 4
Oliver
“Wait, please,” I try again, reaching for her.
But the woman is past me and out my office door before I can grab hold of her slender arm.
Glitter falls from her skirt with every sway of her hips, leaving an iridescent trail in her wake.
The smell of chocolate persists in my office, threatening to mingle with the cinnamon apple scent I carefully selected years ago.
Not altogether unpleasant.
Following her hurried path down the hall toward the reception area, I call after her again. “Ms., um … ” Dammit. Why can’t I remember her name? Oh, maybe it’s because I still feel a little shanghaied from John’s prank. A frustrated sigh rips through the air as the front door slams shut behind her.
“Dr. Rhodes, I thought we were starting at 4pm sharp.” The nervous mother from a particularly draining case calls from her place on the reception couch.
“I know, Shira,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Why don’t you all go ahead and head on back? I’ll just be another minute.” Doing my best to remain as calm as possible, I give her a reassuring smile as she gathers her family.
Shira Collins and her two surly teenage sons make their way to my office as I turn to stare at the front door.
The one elusive redheads run away through.
“Everything alright, Dr. Rhodes?” Mrs. Lanahan smirks up from her post at the front desk. The bright lipstick and blue eyeshadow only enhances the menacing quality of the nosy woman.
Furrowing my brow, I glance back toward the door, willing the redhead to walk back through. “Did you happen to catch that woman’s name? The one who just ran out?”
Suspicious eyes flit to the door, then back to me. “Sorry, she never gave one.”
“But—”
“Don’t forget about the Collins’, Dr. Rhodes.” The shrewd woman sends me a knowing look, reminding me of the impending headache waiting in my office.
Pressing my lips together, I nod once. “Right.” Sighing, I run a hand across the stubble along my jaw. That’s what I get for taking Nacho on an evening hike—the inability to wake up on time and make myself look presentable. “If she comes back, will you send her straight to my office? Please?”
Mrs. Lanahan peers over the desk and nods.
Turning on my heel, I’m nearly halfway back to my office where my most unpleasant appointment of the day awaits, when John opens the door to his own hideout, letting a young couple with a girl who can’t be more than four out into the hall.
“Hey, man,” he says, almost running into me completely. “Sorry about that. You okay?”
Seeing the reason for all of this nonsense causes my heart to race. “Do you have a moment?” I grit out.
Mouth settling into a deep frown, he casts a glance up ahead to the young family. “Just a sec. Wait in here,” he nods to his office.
Rolling my eyes, I retreat into the light space.
Not much bigger than mine, John’s session space feels much larger thanks to the bright color palette.
Pictures of sailboats line the walls, even though the man has never once set foot on any kind of watercraft.
A sand play station with multiple levels and toy options rests in the corner right beside a yellow, oversized armchair and matching sofa.
Crayons lay strewn about the small dark coffee table, clearly having just been used by the little girl.
On the far wall, his whitewashed desk sits pushed into the corner, not a pencil out of place as the scent of clean linen lingers in the air.
I guess he’s putting the joke gift basket of air fresheners I got him to good use.
Annoyingly, all the items he’s put in place to help calm his patients are also lowering my blood pressure.
“What was with the yelling?” he asks, shutting the door behind him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you get louder than an upset librarian.
And I’ve known you a long time.” John grins, crossing his arms and stretching the fabric of his sweater featuring a cartoon turkey, the light material making his midnight skin appear even darker.
“Just diving right in, I see.”
“Sorry, did you want to talk about the weather?”
Letting a scowl slip into place, I take a seat on the sofa.
John follows suit, sitting in the armchair so that neither of us has the upper ground. “Let me know if you’d like some calming music to play in the background. I think I have Bach on shuffle today.”
I unceremoniously flip him off, causing him to chuckle.
“So, are you gonna tell me?”
Considering my words carefully, I finally start with, “You made a flyer.”
The grin resting on his face drops into a blank mask. John blinks once, twice. “Maybe.”
I snort. “‘Maybe.’ Dude, I saw it.”
Dark eyes widen. “What? As in—”
“As in, someone actually brought it here, looking for me. A woman.”
That really does it. John bursts out in laughter, leaning back into the chair for stability. “No way, man,” he says between laughing fits. “Are you serious?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” I ask, flat expression on point.
Tears gather in the corners of John’s eyes at my perfected mask of indifference. “Wow,” he says, catching his breath. Somehow, slapping his knee seems to help his respiratory difficulties. “It’s only been up a couple of days.”
“Days?” I practically shout. “You’re telling me any number of people could’ve seen that?”
He shrugs. “Pretty much.”
“What were you thinking?”
“That you were bored and needed a little excitement in your life.”
“Then take me bowling or something.”
John scoffs. “You hate bowling.”
“It would at least be less invasive than posting details of a private conversation on a flyer for anyone to see and track me down from.”
“Ok, but you can’t take Nacho bowling,” he points out.
“An annoyingly good point,” I grumble. “But there are plenty of activities we could do where she could be included.”
Thinking he may concede, I mentally prepare for a victory lap. Then he hits me with, “You said a woman came to see you?”
I groan. “What does that matter?”
“Did a woman come to see you?” John enunciates each word carefully, like this is my first time hearing the English language.
“Yes. Happy?”
“More than you know.” I don’t have to look at him to hear his grin.
Slamming into the back of the couch, my hands move to cover my face. “This is unbelievable. I was just kidding when I said all that stuff—you had to know that.” With my eyes still cloaked in darkness, I can’t tell if John’s even paying attention. Then again, I know he has to be eating this up.
“Was she attractive?”
Throwing my hands down, I sit upright. “What?”
“You know, out of all your unique traits, being deaf isn’t one of them,” he smirks.
“John, be serious.”
“I am, man.” He leans forward, elbows resting on corduroy pants. “So, I’ll ask you again. Ready?”
“No.”
John snorts. “At least you’re honest.”
I don’t bother hiding the smile threatening to spread across my face. “Like you’d give me any other choice.”
“We just want you to be happy.”
Narrowing my eyes, I pin my best friend where he sits. “What do you mean?”
John shrugs. “Me. Rindy, Jo. And if some random woman happens to stumble into your life, that may not be the worst thing.”
I give a humorless laugh. “Sure, let’s just advertise everything about myself with the hopes of finding Nacho a mom.”
“They have that,” John nods. “It’s called online dating.”
“Well, I’m not doing that.”
“Why not? You know Rindy and Jo would have your profile up and running if you gave the word.”
Leaning back into the couch, I shake my head. “Yeah, I don’t really wanna know what they’d put on it.”
Rolling his lips inward, John nods. “You may be right about that one.”
I look him straight in the eye. “Besides, I’m pretty sure that’s how you meet serial killers.”
“Okay,” John throws both hands up, “you officially need to stop watching those true crimes documentaries. Doctor’s orders.”
Barking laughter fills the room. “Can’t man. Sorry.”
“So … ”
Exasperated, I ask, “We’re not going to do the ‘so’ thing again, are we?”
Leaning back into his chair, John crosses an ankle over his knee. “Did you find the woman attractive?”
The redhead barges into the forefront of my mind.
Her flustered eyes and rosy cheeks that matched her auburn hair when I clearly surprised her in the reception area.
She’s on the taller side for a woman, and she has the willowy frame to match, despite her curves.
Chocolate doe eyes and soft, pink lips; everything about this woman was inviting.
Even her crazy skirt somehow coated in glitter, boots that looked well past their expiration date and multi-colored nails screamed that all are welcome in her circle.
Then, in my office when she held her ground, her ferocity was shocking.
And I hadn’t meant to be an ass, I was just surprised.
But was she attractive? There’s no question.
Just as my mouth opens to answer my friend, a determined knock raps on the door before Mrs. Lanahan pokes her overly coiffed head inside. “I hate to interrupt your Tea for Two club, but Mrs. Collins just came out asking if she needs to reschedule.”
Cursing under my breath, I push up from the couch.
“This conversation isn’t over,” John calls from his chosen seat.
“It is if I can help it,” I mutter, closing the door behind me.