Page 27 of Doc Showmance
Awkward silence.
I felt like a teenager on his first date with no game. So far, our attempt to find common ground or at least understanding had failed.
She looked good, not that I’d say it out loud. Wearing that old black T-shirt softened by countless washes to make it loose enough in the front… If she’d bend over I’d get a good glimpse of cleavage. She paired it with skinny jeans and heeled boots. And the little nose ring. It didn’t come off gauche or distracting. The simple, delicate golden hoop looked as if it’d been made for her face.
I took a bite of my donut. Didn’t expect it to be cream filled. Yellow goo oozed out of both ends and landed on my scrub top and lap. Thank God this wasn’t a real date.
I grabbed a few of the cheap brown napkins, but they spread the gooey shit everywhere instead of absorbing it.
Amber barked out a laugh that progressed into full-on chortles. Her laugh was the kind of deep, heartfelt, infectious sound that made me smile. The harder I wiped at the mess, the harder she laughed. She rifled around in her oversized purse-bag, emerging with a packet of…baby wipes? She ripped a couple out and handed them over.
“Why do you have baby wipes in your bag?” Was she hiding something I didn’t know about? Like a baby?
“Never know when ababymight need a cleanup.” She handed over another wad of the wet wipes. “Actually, they’re made of some sort of magical potion that cleans anything. I’ve even gotten Sharpie out of my lab coat with it. Incredible stuff. You’re welcome.”
“Uh, thanks?” I scrubbed. This time the gooey part did come free of the fabric.
She pushed her donut around and looked up, eyes sober. “I hold grudges. I’m a Scorpio. I just… I can’t go from you being the biggest douche in my life to being a love interest overnight. I’m also not good at pretending.”
“You know what I like most about you, Amber? What I always admired?”
She scowled. “That I was the only girl who didn’t drool all over you in our vet class?”
“You always tell the truth in brutal, often colorful detail. A person always knows where he stands with you.”
“You know what irritates me about this whole thing?” She waited for me to shake my head. “No oneaskedme if I was seeing anyone. They assumed I was single.”
Did she have a boyfriend?
I hadn’t even considered she might have a private life that included dating. I’m an asshole. How conceited of me to think she’d be flying solo. “Are you seeing someone?”
She countered, “How about you? Are you seeing anyone serious? Did they ask you before concocting this insane idea?”
“They didn’t ask me, either.”
“I thought I read somewhere you were seeing that country singer lady for a while?”
“Youreadabout me?” I couldn’t hold back the grin. This time it was a real smile, not a stress-induced one. She’d stalked me either online or in magazines, which meant somewhere inside she cared a small bit about me. I’d always felt I had something to prove to Amber. Hell, anytime I was on TV or in a magazine I wondered if she’d see it and what she’d think. The warmth spreading in my chest was a hefty bit of both ego and pride that she’d taken the time to check up on me.
“You were on the front of several magazines with the singer. Not like I needed to read inside to get the gist. God, you have such an ego.”
“I went on a date with her, but we never had anything serious. She’s way busier than me with barely enough time to spare a few minutes for coffee. Also, she’s a non-veterinary person. You have to know what I mean. It’s hard to date people who don’t know anything about this field. When you start talking about the mess after inducing vomiting in a chocolate-eating dog or the cat that peed on your shoe… Well, you know.”
“You brought up cat piss on a date?” Her eyes went wide while she finished her donut. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend. Little dating hint”—she leaned forward to whisper—“women don’t want to hear about cat pee while they’re eating. Even I don’t want to think about the smell. My mind goes right to intact male cat pee, which makes me want to barf.”
“Thanks for the helpful hint,” I said sarcastically. “So glad the romance queen is here to give advice.”
She wiped her hands with a baby wipe. “I think I’m ready to get that ride back to my car now.”
“We haven’t settled anything.”
“We established you have the dating IQ of a snail and I like the donuts.” She smirked.
She didn’t say much on the drive to her car, but as she got out, she leaned in. “Guess I’ll see you at work tomorrow for our first on-camera romance interaction. How about we avoid exhibitionism? See, we did get something figured out.” The door slammed as she walked off.
10
Amber
