Page 10 of Hazel and Elijah Find Out: First They F*cked Around

I flipped my phone screen-side down on my desk. The clinic was empty, and I just needed to get these last few tasks done. Remi had offered to stay and clean the examination rooms, but I’d turned him down. It wasn’t in his job description, and I didn’t want to take advantage of his friendship. I’d packed away the cleaning supplies a little over an hour ago and responded to a post on the town’s social media community page from Deb Creger, our town hall clerk. She’d shared a photo of her ancient Yorkie with the caption,Sweet Hazel took such great care of Mrs. Merryweather today! Thank you, Sweet Hazel!

I considered for a moment adding a post of my own, but then I glanced at the stack of paperwork that needed accomplishing before I could go home to obsess over the text to Elijah, instead of obsessing here.

It was long workdays on top of long workdays that kept me from being able to justify getting a pet. I hated not having a dog or a cat. It felt unnatural to love animals like I did and not have one of my own to dote on.

Every other man Nora had asked had messaged back. Almost all of them variations ofWhat the fuck?

When I explained further, the response was more varied. I was surprised to discover how many men were willing to consider the auction if it was clear what they’d be doing after the purchase.

To which Nora groaned. “It’s adate. What do you like to do for a date? Take them to that. Tell that man-boy it’s adate.”

“That’s too broad; it needs to be more specific,” Brooks had replied as he scrawled a quick note on a chart.

“What do you mean?”

He closed the file and slid it into place on the cabinet. “How would the women know the kind of date they’re purchasing?”

“It would be included in your description. Here’s Jack Brooks. He’s thirty years old, enjoys hiking and mountain biking, and for the lucky winner, he’ll prepare a lakeside picnic, or whatever.”

A crease formed between his eyebrows. “How do you know so much about this?”

“Romance novels.” She shrugged.

He shot a questioning gaze my way. “Are they all bachelor auctions?”

I snorted. “Guess you’ll have to read to find out.”

He rolled his eyes and exited to the hallway lined with exam rooms.

Nora’s face was overtaken by her smile. “I’ve been getting some good responses, though.”

Her face lit up even more at my sigh.

“You have too, haven’t you?” she squealed. “That’s why you’re disappointed.”

“It’s not there yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s too broad.” I used Brooks’ phrasing.

She considered me. “So, if we told them what the date would be…?”

A feeling a lot like seasickness swished in my stomach. “No. I don’t know… There has to be something else.”

“It’s sexual in nature, and that’s why you don’t like it, right?”

“Yeah, it feels exploitative. If this was a bachelorette auction, evenyouwould feel uncomfortable with it.”

She threw her hands up, and they slapped on her thighs when they came down. “Because of the patriarchal power dynamic. We can’t compare our experiences as women with the experiences of men, because they aredifferent.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not exploitative.”

“I’m gonna figure this out.”

No one could deter Nora once she got a plan in her head. I usually loved it—her tenacity was invaluable most of the time—but in this exact situation, I wished she would shift her focus.

In my office, I rubbed my shoulders and rolled my head from side to side, trying to work the tension that was always there. There was more to do, but I wasn’t going to finish it tonight. I made a few notes on a sticky note to remind me of what needed priority tomorrow, then stuck it on my desk next to my keyboard. Standing, I stretched my arms over my head, and my spine popped a few times.

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