Page 11 of Perfect Mess

I glimpsed a fancy watch under Jack’s checkered cuff. Rolex?

“Mary?” Jack had manicured fingernails. Cuticles oiled. Nail plates buffed. “Can you hear me?” The moisturizer he used must have been made of cashmere and baby duck fluff. “Mary, are you okay?”

Wait a second. Hold on.I stared at Jack’s fingers. Long fingers. Slender fingers. Bare fingers. Jack Thompson wasn’t wearing any rings.

Jack leaned in closer, giving me a closeup view of his flawless face. The dimples on his cheeks were as big as moon craters. “How many fingers?” He smelled like cake. I really, really, really wanted to lick him.

I counted Jack’s ringless, manicured fingers. “Three.”

It must have been the right answer, because he smiled. I’m not sure how it got there, but one of those super soft hands took my hand, pulling me upright. It was even softer than I could have imagined. So many baby ducks must have given their lives. Every spot where our fingers touched sent a surge of energy through my entire body. Like a bolt of lighting that set my vagina on fire and fried every nerve ending in my brain.

Not young. Still stupid.

“I’m just going to take your pulse.” His fingers traced up to my wrist. “Your heart rate is elevated.”No shit.“Is it okay if I examine you?”Absolutely.“I want to make sure nothing’s broken.”Break me Jack, please!

Jack probed me for injuries. “Does this hurt?”Not physically.“How about this?” Soft fingers tested my ankle, then worked their way up my leg. “Or this?” Jack wrapped his hands around my kneecap, his thumbs sinking into the muscles and tendons on all sides. The pressure sent tiny earthquakes up into my hips, the aftershocks rippling across my pelvis. Jack gently pressed against my ribs. “You could have broken a rib.”

It wasn’t my ribs that were broken; it was my libido. Pushed over the limit after years of neglect. Logic and reason abandoned me. Replaced by horniness and lust. If Jack had asked me in that moment to follow him behind the barn, strip naked, and bend over a hay bale, I would have done it for sure.

“I think I’m okay.” I was about two seconds away from having an orgasm.

Jack helped me to my feet, then gave me another good looking-over from head to toe. “Nothing broken, so that’s good.” His eyes seemed to linger again, his teeth sinking into his lip. Probably because I was smeared in strawberry frosting and speckled with sprinkles. “But there’s a chance you might have a mild concussion. We should get you to the hospital just to be sure.”

Again, thunder rattled the darkening sky. A growing breeze twisted the leaves in the trees.

“I called an ambulance.” Janet plucked a rice crispy treat out of my hair.

“You want me to ride with you?” Jack held on to my arm again, keeping me steady on my feet.

“I got her from here,” said Ralph, swooping in for support.

Jack handed me his business card,Dr. Jack Thompson.“Just in case.”

* * *

Ralph rodewith me in the ambulance while Janet fetched her car. The plan was for her to meet us at the hospital. I felt fine, physically, really, only my pride was bruised. But Jack insisted I get checked.

At the hospital, Ralph waited with me as I filled out the insurance papers. He waited with me for an exam room to come free. He waited with me until the doctor came.

I ended up being fine, of course. All good. Just like I said. When the nurse finished stapling all the paperwork, Ralph helped the wheel chair guy push me down to the curb.

As we waited for Janet, Ralph sat down beside me. “You smell like cow.” Despite smelling like a farm, Ralph let me lay my head on his shoulder. When he saw the tear on my cheek, he rubbed my back.

“I can’t believe Jack Thompson is a doctor,” I said.

Ralph shook his head. “I thought he’d be running a puppy mill or something.”

“Seal clubber.” I wiped the snot dripping from my nose with the back of my hand.

“Seal clubber?”

“Someone who clubs baby seals for their fur.”

I pulled Jack’s card out of my pocket, turning it over in my hand.Dr. Jack Thompson.I still couldn’t believe what happened. Part of me hoped it was all a bad dream, but Jack’s business card was proof it was real. I sat there on the curb staring at his phone number like it was some kind of algebra equation. Or a winning lottery ticket. Maybe the combination to a treasure filled vault. “He wasn’t wearing a ring, you know.”

Ralph gave me a funny look. “You had time to notice that, did you? In between getting trampled and running for your life?”

“His hands were literally on my body. Next to my boobs. Beside my crotch. Hard not to notice his fingers when they were actively probing me.”

---