Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Frankie
The way Finch moaned as she bit into the sandwich made my mouth go dry. I swallowed thickly, watching her enjoy the lunch I’d made for us. We sat in squeaky old office chairs. Her desk was mounded in papers and files, not a single inch of bare desktop to set the food, so we just ate over napkins on our laps.
“So . . .,” I said, trying to recover from her audible enjoyment. “You like the food I take it?”
“You are an absolute goddess,” Finch said through another giant mouthful, and I chuckled. “Seriously, forget the wild animals, people will be taking the ferry over just for these sandwiches. What is this pesto stuff?”
“Homemade,” I said with a grin. “Naturally.”
Finch looked up from her food orgasm and grinned at me. “Look at you, all confident. I like it.”
I smiled back, sitting a little straighter. It was the one thing I felt certain about. Cooking was the one time I had control in this chaotic life of mine. I knew I made good food that people enjoyed, and I was proud of it.
“Feeding people is the best job in the world,” I said. But I particularly appreciated it when ridiculously attractive people enjoyed it. “Probably not as important as saving animals’ lives, but it makes me feel like I have some value.”
Finch stopped chewing. “You have inherent value. Always.” She pinned me with a look. “We’re going to unpack that comment later, Goldilocks.”
“See, you sound like my girlfriend already,” I teased.
“One day, we need to do this properly,” Finch said, tucking back into her sandwich like she was making out with it.
“Do what?”
“Have a proper picnic on the beach instead of in my cluttered office,” she said, looking around the space that was one step away from being an episode of Hoarders . “Especially now that you and I are pretending to be together. My mom would die if she heard I went on a beach date with you.”
“I’d like that,” I said, taking a nibble of sandwich to give my hands something to do. “Not your mom dying,” I amended quickly, “the beach date part.”
Finch laughed through her mouthful of food. “I assumed.”
I tried to steer the conversation back on course. “When are your days off?”
Finch’s laugh was so loud that food sprayed out of her mouth, and she hastily blotted it up off her desk. “Sorry. I don’t just work with animals. I am one,” she quipped. “The wombats have more table manners than me.”
I chuckled. “I didn’t realize asking about your days off was such a funny topic.”
“I don’t really take days off,” Finch admitted. “I mean, technically I do. Legally, I do,” she said, pointing two fingers at me as if I were a spy. I held up my hands in defense. “But I almost always have some patients that need checking on. There’s always more to be done.”
“Sounds like you need a break.”
“Probably,” she confessed. “Maybe taking one won’t be so hard now that I’ve got a girlfriend who needs my attention.”
When she winked at me, I immediately broke our gaze, rattled like a schoolgirl as I stabbed at my fruit salad with a fork. What in the world was wrong with me? I’d met really attractive men before, but they’d never put me so off kilter. There was just something about women . . .
“So how did we meet?” I asked, wishing I could subtly turn on the overhead fan.
“We met at a restaurant in town,” Finch said. “I feel like the more truth we have in there, the easier it’ll be.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I sat beside you at the bar and was immediately taken by you.”
“Ah, I believe it was I who was taken with you ,” she cut in.
“It was a mutual taking,” I amended.
“And I knew from the moment I met you, you weren’t just another hookup.” Finch licked her lips and took another bite. “You were special.”
“Are you talking to me or the sandwich?”
“Both,” Finch said, and we both laughed. “I knew I wasn’t letting you go. A gorgeous woman who makes the world’s best cinnamon rolls and doesn’t judge me for being a workaholic or when I spit-laugh and keep my office dirtier than a pig sty. Whatever could you possibly see in me?”
“Besides the fact that you’re the most handsome woman I’ve ever met?” I asked before I could stop myself. Finch grinned. “And a doctor. Caring for wounded baby animals is surely the world’s best panty dropper.”
“I can confirm,” Finch said, licking pesto from her thumb.
“And then we found out we were working together,” I continued.
“But it was too late,” Finch countered. “You’d already ensnared my heart.”
“Perfect.” I gave a nod.
“This is going to be great,” Finch said with a winning smile. “Jake is going to be so jealous, he will regret all his life choices in no time.”
My smile faltered even as I said, “Good.”
For a split second, I’d forgotten about Jake, caught up in this daydream of us being each other’s dream girls.
Finch’s radio beeped and she leaned across her stacks of papers, turning the dial up. “Was that for me?”
“Yeah, where are you?” Heron asked. I was getting better at identifying all of the zoo staff from their voices alone. They all had radio names too, but that was a lot to keep track of.
“Having lunch in my office with Frankie, why?”
“Oooh,” Crane interrupted, making kissing sounds. “Make sure to turn your radios off before you start banging, okay?”
Hannah immediately jumped on. “Too soon.”
Finch guffawed. “What do you want, Heron?”
Heron let out a long sigh, which I’d already learned meant more work for Finch was about to be relayed to her. “Jailbreak has managed to tear down one of the flags from the savannah seating area and has it stuck in his mouth.”
“Jailbreak?” I mouthed to Finch.
“Zebra,” she replied.
“Of course.”
“Could you come give me a hand? He’s probably fine, but worth a check. I’m recalling the herd now,” Heron said.
Finch sighed down at the food in front of her, looking like a kid whose ice cream just got knocked out of their hand. Still, she said, “Yeah. On my way.”
“Anything I can help with?” I offered.
“You’re already doing me a giant favor, Goldilocks. That’s more than enough.” Finch shoved the rest of her sandwich into her cheeks until they were puffed out like a squirrel. She said something mostly unintelligible, but judging by the way she hooked her finger at the door, I guessed it was “got to go.”
I blinked at the radio. “You’re going to have to tell me what that whole turn your radio off before banging thing is about.”
Finch’s cheeks dimpled and she swallowed a hunk of sandwich like a snake swallowing its prey whole.
“Oh, it’s a good one,” she said with a wink. “I’ll walk you home tonight and tell you.”
“You’ll walk me home?”
“You’re my girlfriend,” she reminded me. “And Kirby owes me a drink and you happen to live above her bar. Meet you back here at 5?”
I barely had time to nod before Finch was racing out the door, leaving me a flustered mess in her wake.