Page 6 of A Wulver for the Week

I turn back around, and Minnie is walking past, pulling off a thick scarf-like headband that covers the front half of her hair. She pauses, and it's like every music video my horny teenage self ever watched.

She glistens with a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Those honey and best bitter curls bounce free and sway back as she closes her eyes and scoops her hair back into place.

“Oh, hey, Craig. I’m telling you, not enough people got their flu shot this year,” she pants. “Second patient this morning I had to bag on the fly.”

“Aye, I saw you savin’ that woman on the fly. You looked like some angel of mercy, but not like those little delicate angels that wouldnae get their pretty wings dirty, but some sort of heroic one, sweeping across the dead and the dyin’ to heal them,” I babble, jaw hanging open at the end and my mostly-buried accent flying free.

Minnie stares at me, licking her lips (sweet Jesus), and her light brown cheeks seem to glow brighter. “Are you kidding? I look like I had a hot flash or got caught in the rain.” She wipes her arm across her forehead, and I seriously have to control the wolfish instincts to go over and lick her arm to steal her scent.

“No. Ye dinnae look like any such thing. Besides... I’d best get used to seeing you wet.”

Minnie stares.

I stare.

I stammer. “I mean, in Florida, there’s going to be swimming at the resort and days on the beach, aren’t there?”

“Oh! Oh, yes.”

Sleaziness be damned, I’ve waited years to get my shot. I don’t care if Minerva Johnson lives the rest of her life seeing me as a hairy bloke instead of an immaculately groomed wulver. “An angel savin’ lives doesnae deserve to cook after all day on her feet. You were saying you’d have to give me the family gossip before we head off on our ‘getaway.’ We’ve got three weeks left. I’ll take you out to the River House tonight and you can spill the tea.”

“That sounds sooo good. If I eat one more Lean Cuisine this month, I might not make it to Florida. But... I really want to lose ten pounds before the wedding. Maybe we shouldn’t...”

“You look perfect right now. And I thought you already got your dress?”

“I did, but it’s a little snug in some spots.” Minnie’s hand travels to her hip in an unconscious gesture.

“As your fictional boyfriend, can I tell you that any man lucky enough to date you would consider you in a snug dress an absolute bonus? A vision?”

“Flatterer...”

“Truth! I speak as a bachelor who would give my right arm to... to actually have a woman like you in my life. You know,” I clear my throat, “confident, beautiful, caring, a leader in your community... Ahem. So? Dinner?”

Minnie hesitates for a moment. The hospital cell phone in her pocket begins to beep, and I know she has to go.

“You’ve got to take care of things, I know. We can always take a raincheck,” I laugh, hoping I sound casual. Not in the slightest desperate.

“Tonight at 8? I know it’s late, but I don’t get off until seven.”

“Eight is great.” Good Lord. I’m rhyming.

Minnie doesn’t mind. She laughs and trots off. “You might want to take notes. I’ve got a lot of relatives.”

“I’ll bring my trusty legal pad.” I kid back, because it’s well known that even though we live in the digital age, I waste too much time taking down case notes by hand and then typing them up.

“It’s one of the things I like about you,” Minnie chuckles, glancing back over her shoulder. “You take the time to do things right.”

I’m so glad when she disappears through the doors to the general admissions ward. I practically collapse on my desk, moaning under my breath. “Oooh. You have no idea just how much time I’d take with you...”

5: Minerva

It’s not a date. It’s a meeting. Strategy. Planning. We can’t get a minute to ourselves at work. We need to eat. That’s all.

So why am I suddenly shaving my legs all the way up to my thigh and trading my comfy granny panties for my hopeful third-date thong just to go grab dinner at Pine Ridge’s only semi-upscale restaurant?

Could it be because of the little lines that Craig just blurted out without an ounce of smooth, mixed with the lilting Scottish accent I’ve only ever heard when he’s worked up? Phrases like “You look like an angel” and “any man lucky enough to date you” and the way he said he’d better get used to seeing me wet?

Sir!

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