Friday morning, I cave, and after I park in Dash’s huge driveaway, I call her before heading inside.
“Hello?” Tara answers in a breathless voice that reminds me of a hot, sweaty session in bed.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” I ask.
“I’m just running late this morning. I overslept, which isn’t like me,” she says, her voice still husky.
I adjust my dick in my pants. “I want to take you out Saturday night.” I get to the point, not wanting to keep her long if she’s busy.
“I’m… Saturday’s not good. I have plans.”
My stomach plummets at her words. Before I can ask what those plans are and with whom, because yeah, I want to know, she speaks but obviously not to me.
“Oh, hi, Mom. Sorry I’m late,” she says.
“Your first patient is already in one of the rooms,” I hear her mother say.
Shit.
“I have to go, Axel. I’m sorry,” she says and disconnects the call, leaving me holding the phone in my hand.
I understand she has a job to do, so her hanging up doesn’t bother me. Turning me down on Saturday night for what I figure is a date—because what else would a smart, beautiful woman have planned on the weekend?—that stings.
***
Tara
My first appointmentof the morning is a quick one, a beagle named Buster with bad breath. We schedule him for a teeth cleaning, and he is on his way. My second patient is running late, and considering my own harried morning, I can’t be upset.
I walk over to my mom, who sits at the reception desk, confirming appointments for later in the week. My mother takes one look at me and puts down the receiver.
“Did you really tell Axel you couldn’t go out with him because you had plans?” Disappointment lights my mother’s gaze.
I should have known my mother was eavesdropping on my call as I rushed in earlier. “I did because I do. It’s Amy’s bachelorette party, remember?” I look over my mom’s shoulder at the rest of today’s schedule.
My mom lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Where, oh, where did I go wrong with you? The man probably thinks you have a date!”
I blink. “I didn’t mean to make him think that. I was just rushing into work.” And if he assumes me being busy means another man asked me out? It isn’t like we’re exclusive or even officially dating.
“What would you have said if you weren’t in a rush and didn’t have Amy’s party?” my mom asks.
“I’m not sure,” I say. Nor am I going to get into the discussion with my mother.
I already spent the days since our date obsessing over every word I said, he said, and his lack of a kiss afterward. But mostly I think about his present circumstances. He rents a house, travels for tours, and is the furthest thing from settled I can imagine.
“I’m starting to think you don’t ever want to get married,” my mother says on a huff just as the phone rings, saving me from further conversation.
And since my next patient walks through the door, I’m spared from overthinking as well.
CHAPTER FIVE
Tara
Halfway into thebachelorette party, I regret attending. The first part of the night is a dinner to which my mom and her sister, my aunt Jeanne, along with Amy’s mother, Barbara, and her future mother-in-law, Liza, are invited. Amy and her friends are young enough that, though I like them, I have few interests in common with them.
I end up sandwiched between the older adults. We eat dinner and are on to dessert. Afterwards, the bridesmaids, including me, are going to head to the bar on the other side of the restaurant for the more fun part of the evening. At least, according to Amy and her friends.
Dessert is served, and I’m on my second glass of wine.
