Bingo.
‘I’m not sure about the gore factor, but basically, yes.’
I closed my eyes against the memory of the middle-aged man who was interviewing me, eyes widening as I got more and more animated. My mouth had completely detached from my brain, going off on a tangent that I couldn’t rescue it from. Like a train going on the wrong track and heading for a collision, sometimes there’s nothing you can do but squint your eyes and try not to watch.
‘Fallon…’ Rosie whined, her voice filled with justifiable scolding.
‘I know, I know. You don’t need to say anything. Trust me, my self-loathing has reached an all-time high. Surprisingly, I’m not sure if the interview counted as one of the most embarrassing parts of my day.’
I recounted my morning with my handsome but decidedly grumpy saviour.
Predictably, Rosie ate up the story with all the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning. Romance was her bread and butter. She devoured books and movies with every romantic trope and found each one magical. However, in her own life, romance had taken a backseat. Through veterinary school, she stayed focused on her goal, leaving little room for a man to infiltrate her life. It didn’t stop them from trying. Rosie was effortless in her beauty. The complete opposite of myself who, if I could be arsed, had to spend countless hours plucking and priming my body so it would be deemedacceptable. Rosie’s luscious blonde hair and blue eyes, tied togetherwith her slender athletic body, made men drool whenever she walked past them.
The problem? Rosie had a perennial disinterest in the opposite sex; unless they were fictional. She communicated far better with the animals that came and went through the surgery.
‘Wait, so you’re telling me he just walked away? Just like that?’ The excitement in Rosie’s voice washed away any previous frustration she might have had with me.
I mumbled my assent around the last scoop of ice cream—which was just Baileys and vanilla soup at this point.
‘I’m surprised you even asked for his help.’
Me too.‘I was desperate.’
‘And you didn’t get a name?’ She sounded rueful at my negligence.
I wanted to scoff. The man had looked at my hand like it was a disease-ridden limb. ‘He wasn’t in a very forthcoming mood.’
Rosie sighed wistfully,‘So romantic.’
This time the scoff actually made its way out of my throat. ‘Hardly.’
‘Yes… but he also helped you out. A hot guy with a need to save a damsel in distress. This is book smut 101, babe.’
‘You need to stop romanticising things. It’s going to get you on the short end of a human trafficking ring one day. I’m almost certain.’
She didn’t sound the least bit concerned. ‘If that’s so, then maybe I can get my kidnapper to fall in love with me.’ She gasped dramatically. ‘I can see it now…’
I shut my eyes, weary of her incessant optimism. ‘You read too much dark romance.’
‘No such thing.’
Placing my bowl on the coffee table, I burrowed underneath the blankets, pulling it right up to my chin. ‘I’m givingup on the whole job thing. Maybe I’ll become a social media influencer. Those guys just stay at home. It’s the perfect job.’
‘I think you’re missing all the hard work and, oh yeah, actually being capable at social media. You, my dearest dingbat, are clueless to technology.’
I opened my mouth to retort, but ultimately, she was right. I was inept at all that stuff. My laptop didn’t even have a password on it because I could never remember it—and kept locking myself out. I’d barely scraped by for my job, which thankfully only required a minimal amount of social media presence. I mentally shook myself—myoldjob.
‘How’s Roxy?’ I nudged the conversation onto a topic sure to distract Rosie, whose next breath was predictability, a loving coo.
‘She’s doing so well. Her leg has healed nicely, and she’s hardly limping at all.’ I heard the faint sounds of nails scratching on the wooden floor. I could picture Rosie sitting on her living room floor; legs crossed as she doted on the German Shepherd she’d rescued three weeks ago. Roxy came into the surgery late one night, carried by a guy who had found her by his back door. He wanted nothing to do with the poor dog who’d broken its back leg and was so emaciated her ribs looked like an accordion. Ever the bleeding heart, Rosie had hung up posters and rang around to all the shelters. When no one claimed her, she took her home, leg fixed and belly getting bigger by the day.
‘Although, she got into my bin the other day. Coming home to find a used sanitary pad shredded to pieces is unsettling. I think she might have been a vampire in a past life.’
I scrunched up my nose. ‘First off, that’s disgusting. Second, can dogs be vampires? Isn’t that a human-only affliction?’
Rosie hummed thoughtfully, ‘If cats can have nine lives, dogs can be vampires. According to my mother anyway.’
‘With logic like that…’ I trailed off. My phone buzzed in my lap. I swiped at my screen.
