Cupid had never fired a bow her way. Maybe Rachael was the kind of person who was better off alone. While other little girls were dreaming of weddings and families and playing house, she had pretended she was being named to the Supreme Court or becoming the next CEO of the family business. Her focus was always on achieving more, getting the next win.
“That’s your advice?” Rachael teased, raising her eyebrows to ridiculous heights.
She looked smug, but Marie had the grace to blush. “Well, how else are you to determine if it’s meant to be? Live a little, my birdie. Spread those wings and let the wind carry you a bit. You’ll figure it out.”
She could never have had this conversation with her own mother. She hugged Marie’s plump middle, knowing how special she was. “Love you, Marie.”
“And I you, bluebird. Now you go fly away and let me finish my work. You and Carlie come for dinner soon, yes? And, of course, my favorite little anarchist is welcome too!”
Chuckling at what Kim’s reaction would have been to that description, she pushed open the door, the dangling bells jingling. “We will,” she promised.
* * *
Rachael checked her phone again. The anarchist was now thirty-five minutes late. From her seat on Carlie’s sofa, she thought about the stack of work she could have made a dent in if she’d had her laptop with her. She twitched and slapped her phone back down on the coffee table.
Carlie smirked. “Give it up, girl. You know she operates in her own time zone. No sense stressing about it.”
“I don’t know how you can stand it,” she grumbled, refilling her wine glass.
“To know Kim is to love Kim, faults and all.”
“Where’s Brent? I thought he was joining us.”
Carlie tossed a hand in the air, twirling her fingers. “Out.”
Smothering her frown, Rachael glanced back at the phone. Her sister loved him, but sometimes she wondered if they were actually good for each other. “To you and Brent,” she teased. “Carlie and Brent forever!”
Carlie laughed, her dark blue eyes mischievous as they clinked glasses. “So, what about you? Anything going with Gabe?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Dinner tomorrow though, so we’ll see.”
“Tell me more about this vet.”
Rachael sat back and kicked up her feet onto the coffee table. “Not much to tell. He’s super sweet and saved Olive’s life. He’s tall, almost as tall as Gabe. And cute—like a Ken Doll.” Hopefully his anatomy was a little more . . . more. Clearing her throat, she added, “We had a couple of drinks earlier.”
“You what?!”
“He was off and Nancy—that’s his receptionist, sweet older lady—pretty much strong-armed us into grabbing a drink together. Once we got past the initial weirdness, it was,” Rachael spun her hand in the air, searching for the right way to describe it, “nice. We had a couple of drinks and we talked about all kinds of stuff, including animals, of course. He told me about veterinary school and how he wants to offer services at prices that make it impossible for people to not take proper care of their pets.” Rachael sighed at the selflessness of his work.
“Mhm. And?”
“And what?”
“Rach, you’re blushing. Spill!”
Shaking away her nervous smile, she took a deep breath. “After I told him I had plans tonight, he asked me to lunch tomorrow.”
Carlie’s nose wrinkled and her brow lifted. “That’s what’s making you blush? You need to get out more often, Rach.”
“And he gave me a smooch.”
“A smooch? Like a good kiss or a peck?”
“A smooch, Car. On the cheek.”
“Who’s smooching who?” called Kim from the front door.
Groaning, Rachael took another drag of her wine.
“Rach. She’s kissing everyone these days,” Carlie shouted with glee.
“Sure, sure,” Kim said, laughing as she entered the sitting area.
Rachael glowered at the newcomer. “Am I that unkissable?”
Kim blinked. “Holy shit, you’re serious?”
“Kim!”
“Hold up and back the fuck up,” Kim said, tossing her jet-black hair over her shoulder. “Who are you kissing?”
“As far as I can tell,” Carlie filled in her BFF, “she’s making out with a handsome Ken-Doll doctor—”
“A vet,” Rachael murmured.
“—and, none other than Gabe freaking McAllister!”
Kim whistled low and long, her gray eyes wide. “Boy, do you know how to pick ’em. Tell me, is McAllister as yummy as he looks?”
“How are things going with Owen, Kim?” Rachael volleyed back to her, referring to her on-again, off-again boyfriend.
She waved off the question. “O’s old news. I need details, Rach!”
Carlie handed Kim a glass of wine and together they scrutinized Rachael, fascination pouring off them in waves.
“Well, you may as well help me figure this out,” she relented, then proceeded to tell them about Rick and Gabe. Not everything, but enough.
Kim cracked open a new bottle and refreshed their glasses. “Now that is a good problem to have,” she swooned, a dramatic effect fit for a drawing room in Gone with the Wind.
Nodding, Rachael stared at the red wine as it clung gently to the side of the glass. “This is good. Really good.”
“It is. Now what are you going to do?” asked Carlie. “And can I come meet the doctor?”
“I’ll see Rick tomorrow for lunch and meet Gabe for dinner. Based on my track record, that’s about as far as it’ll go. And no, I’m not introducing you.”
Carlie threw a pillow at her and Rachael swerved to catch it. “Remember,” Rachael laughed, launching it back at her younger sister and tilting her glass in her direction, “if this spills, it’s your sofa that gets ruined!”
Carlie laughed and tucked the pillow under her arm. “It will just match the rest of the couch then. Maybe I’ll paint more spots and we’ll call it the wine-leopard seat. Start a trend.”
“That’s my girl,” Kim winked. “Agility is a hot skill right now. We can add that to your resume. You know, in case that whole family business thing doesn’t work out.”
* * *
Waking the next morning on Carlie’s sofa, Rachael groaned at the multiple empty wine bottles on the coffee table. Getting together with the girls was never something Rachael regretted, even with the headaches. Hangovers, Kim, and Carlie just all went together. She thought back to all of their teenage hijinks, and how she and Kim would push and prod Carlie out the door—but then Carlie would be the one who made sure everything went perfectly. Kim was the sassy sister, Carlie the caretaker sister, and Rachael the leader of the sister pack. She rather liked it that way. Their femme pack.
“Morning, sunshine,” said Kim, perched on the side chair to tie her shoes, sleek black hair gathered neatly behind her head. Rachael knew Kim’s mother had been an Asian American stunner. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree. “Rach has the Keurig set to repeat and Brent’s got some scrambled eggs going,” Kim informed her.
Rachael’s head was pounding and her stomach rebelled. The last thing she wanted right now was eggs. “Good of him to show up,” she muttered, a bit disgruntled at his absence of late.
Kim glanced at the kitchen and back at Rachael. “Right?” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s going on with them, but something’s off. Hope they work through whatever it is.”
Nodding slowly, Rachael dug back through the previous night’s flyover comment. “Did you say you and Owen are done?”
Kim paused while tying the second sneaker and pursed her lips, considering. “Yeah. It isn’t meant to be. I think we’re done for good this time.”
Rachael remained mute on that topic. She knew Kim and Carlie had some knock-down, drag-out fights over this in the past. “Sorry, girl.” And she was. For as tough as Kim liked to appear, she was fiercely loyal and deserved more than Owen was willing or abl
e to offer. Even before she knew about Kim’s shitty home life and understood just how big of a wanker her dad was, Rachael had always felt protective of her surrogate sister.
Kim finished with her laces and popped up. “All good things come to an end, right?”
“Who knows? I sure as hell don’t,” Rachael teased, happy to see the bright smile reach Kim’s almond-shaped eyes. “You out?”
“Yeah. Gotta go burn off those vino calories. I want updates about your two-timing ways. Good to see you, Alice.”
Rachael made a face at the old Alice in Wonderland reference and dangled her bait. “Whatevs, bitch. Remind me to tell you what Marie called you.”
She scowled at Rachael. “Now you have to say it. You know I won’t leave till you do.”
“The anarchist,” she grinned.
Kim cackled with delighted laughter. “Only Marie! Could you imagine my father’s reaction if I changed my signature to Kim Hill, Product Designer and Anarchist?!” She leaned down and hugged her, then disappeared to the kitchen before heading out the door, still laughing.
Carlie wandered into the living room. “She said you were up. Can’t believe you slept in this late.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost eleven.”
“Shit, shit, shit! I’ve got to be at the animal hospital in an hour!”
Carlie held out a travel mug and a couple of Motrin. “I figured. Take this. I want a full report later.”
“You’re the best, CarCar. Love ya.”
She flew out of the door and zipped home.
8
With a few minutes to spare, Rachael sat on the patio to throw the ball to Martini. “Have to get your exercise in, too, pup,” she said, scratching his ears and snagging the toy from him. Her hangover was nearly gone, and she delighted in the sunshine-filled late morning air. The summer-green lawn stretched before her, and she smiled at the bounding dog. “One more!”
He dashed off and was back in moments.
“Ready to go inside?”
He ran ahead and sat at the door, his little puffy tail swishing behind him.
“Here you go,” she topped off his water and gave him a treat. “I’m going to go see Olive. You be a good boy!”
He shuffled down onto a cool patch of floor and chased his tail in endless circles before collapsing into a sleepy heap, dismissing her. Such a cutie.
Rick for lunch, Gabe for dinner. Maneater much?
“Oh, here she comes, watch out boys, she’ll chew you up!” she sang as she jogged out to the car. Laughing, she glanced in the rearview mirror, willing herself to decide. She felt a little guilty about seeing both, but it’s not like she was in an actual relationship with either of them. No harm, no foul, right?
Sure, right up until they found out about each other.
But that stuff only happened in bad movies.
This was real life, which meant she needed to review what the hell she was doing, and how she was going to juggle this new terrain and her job. She frowned, thinking about her client board, contracts, prospects, and all the work that she needed to do. But Olive came first. And whatever happened at lunch, she would make sure Rick—and Gabe later—understood it was family and dogs, then work, then everything else. Including men, or the lack thereof, which had never bothered her before.
Satisfied with her decision to lay things out and keep her priorities straight, she hummed along to the radio the rest of the short drive. Turning into the small parking lot, she noted the absence of cars. Not much happening on a Sunday. She walked up to the door and discovered it was locked. She double-checked the time and tapped on the glass door a few times, relieved to see a white coat approaching the door.
“Sorry about that.” Rick gestured to the door. “We don’t typically unlock the doors until two on Sundays.”
“Oh. You should have said something. I could have come by later.”
“No, this is fine. Now I have an excuse to have a good lunch today.”
“How is she this morning?”
“Good. Better.” He detailed her progress and Rachael was thrilled to see she was awake. Olive gave a slight “Yip!” when she saw her human had arrived.
“Hi, girl!” Rachael crooned. “My sweet Olive. You gave me quite the scare.” The dog toddled around her crate, the cast looking like more of a nuisance than anything. “You’ll be home soon,” she murmured, rubbing behind her ears.
Gil joined them and nodded at Olive. “She’s a good little patient. She’s left her stitches alone and, so far, has managed to avoid the cone of shame.”
Imagining a miniature satellite dish around her furry neck, Rachael giggled in relief. “Good to hear. I still feel terrible, but I’m glad she’s got an excellent team to nurse her back to health.”
Gil smiled. “She should be ready to go home tomorrow.”
“Hear that, Olive? I’ll be taking you home in just one more day!” She kissed the top of her sweet girl’s head. Rachael’s brow furrowed and she bit her lip as Olive settled down into her blanket drowsily. The lethargy was concerning.
“She’s going to be pretty tired for the next few days, but she’ll eventually perk back up,” said Rick, noting her worry.
Nodding, Rachael continued to stroke Olive’s head until her eyes drooped closed. A moment later, she eased her hand away and watched her Olive doze.
“Ready to go?” Rick asked.
She gave Olive’s head one last little stroke then collected her bag.
Relief washed through her as they left the building, a weight lifted, knowing Olive was going to recover. It was one thing to be told that, but another altogether to see the progress and feel the change.
Stepping into the brilliant sunlight, Rick tossed his white jacket into his SUV, adding over his shoulder, “Want to take a walk first? There’s a nice little park about five minutes from here.”
“That would be great,” she agreed, working out the knot in her purse strap so she could sling it over her shoulder.
He gestured to the right, so she began walking, a trickle of nerves tickling her insides. Rick joined her on the sidewalk, placing himself between her and the traffic.
“Which park is it?” she asked.
“It’s a little community bark park, a dog park we take some of the recovering animals to when they need some gentle exercise beyond our enclosed play area.”
She glanced up at him, shading her eyes from the sun. “Do you come here often?”
He chuckled. “I do believe that’s the first time that line has been used on me.”
Blushing, she swatted his arm. “You know what I mean.”
“I try to come over at least once a week. Check on the upkeep, that kind of thing.”
That was a strange thing to say, but she supposed it was important if he was sending recovering dogs there. A light breeze tickled her hair around her shoulders, and she admired the maintained yards along the short walk. Martini and Olive would love something like this—a nice yard close to a dog park.
“Here we are,” he said, passing a man-sized faux fire hydrant. She chuckled at the absurdly large structure. “We didn’t want there to be any chance a fire truck would ever mistake this for the real thing, but the dogs love it.”
“We?”
He nodded. “Me and a couple of buddies built this. When the lot became available, it seemed like a no brainer. One of my favorite investments.”
Oh. A full-sized poodle raced up and down a track of smooth green grass, a mutt of some kind matching the fluffy dog, length for length, on the other side of a fence. The pets’ owners chatted over the chain-link divider, heads bobbing back and forth as they watched each other and the animals.
“Bev, Georgio! How are Sam and Popcorn today?” he hollered, and the bobbing heads swiveled toward them.
“Rick!” squealed the older woman, her cheeks pink and full. “It’s been too long! Oh, my Sam is as good as new. You’d never even know he’d been through so much.”
“Now she and Sam keep us on edge.” The man Rachael assumed must be Georgio smiled warmly. “Popcorn is good. She’s loving life and eating us out of house and home.”
“How are you dear?” the woman asked Rick as they drew nearer, stealing a quick hug from him.
“I’m well. Rachael, this is Beverly, Nancy’s sister.”
Now that he’d said it, she could see the resemblance. “Pleased to meet you.” She smiled.
“Rachael? I believe I’ve heard about you.” Her eyes twinkled. “But I’ll leave you two be. Georgio, you and Popcorn can take us home now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted. “Always good to see you, Rick. Nice to meet you too, young lady. You kids have a good day.”
Leashes attached, Sam and Popcorn made their sloppy greetings before they and their humans departed. Rachael smiled after them. “They seem nice. But really—Popcorn the poodle?”
Rick smirked. “Says the mom of Martini and Olive.”
They walked the perimeter of the park, and Rick paused at one of the conveniently placed dispensers to get a bag, scooping up the droppings left by previous pets. While they walked, Rachael quizzed him about his other interests and random tidbits. Rick challenged her to the same, and they soon were playing the world’s longest game of fifty questions.
When they returned to the veterinary hospital’s parking lot, Rachael hopped into her car to follow him to the restaurant, amused that she’d had a delightful time picking up dog poop with Rick. “He’s kind of the shit,” she told her reflection, laughing.
* * *
Tranquil Italian music filled the air, and the smell of pasta made her stomach rumble. After a night of drinking and an afternoon of stool collecting, she was famished.
“Right this way,” said the hostess, leading them to a small table off to the side.
Rick walked beside her, his hand settling into place at her lower back. She was surprised and enjoyed his lightly possessive touch. Rachael smiled up at him as he held the chair out for her before taking his own seat. He ordered a chardonnay for her and a bourbon for him, and they relaxed in the cozy, family-friendly atmosphere, perusing the menu.
Animal Attraction Page 6
