Page 63 of Doc Showmance
Her hand moved around to caress my ass. Now I couldn’t tell if she was playing or not. Her gaze held an earnestness that had my full attention, and didn’t that just shoot lust straight to my dick? Wait a second. Was this for the camera?
Damn it. I needed about two minutes alone to clarify what the hell was going on and who this woman was.
I handed Amber the phone.
“I need the code,” she said sweetly.
I whispered it.
“If you feel homicidal, I’ll be watching the game and drinking myself into oblivion at the loser table. Come join me.”
I pulled her in for what I planned to be a hug, but at the last minute changed my mind and kissed her. Because I wanted to. Because she butt caressed me in front of my parents’ friends and on TV. Her little tongue slipped along my lower lip. And now I was sporting a hard-on when about to face hell with my parents.
23
Amber
Iwas the last to be seated at the table of eight. The three who weren’t hiding by pretending absorption in their phones looked miserable. I waved. “Hi, everyone. I’m Amber. I need a beer. Anyone else?” I pointed at the guy seated next to me, a lean and buff guy who probably exercised twenty hours a day, before I sat. “Looks like you haven’t had a beer in about ten years. It’s Thanksgiving. Time to splurge.”
He frowned at me.
I flagged down a waiter. “We need beer. Lots of it. Like, a few pitchers.”
The waiter’s face blanched. “We aren’t supposed to—”
“Thanks for getting us a few pitchers and the right glasses.”
A few snickers surrounded me.
“You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. No one goes against Victoria Todd.” The exercise guru to my right squinted at me. “I know you from somewhere.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
“I’m serious. I’ve seen you. Have we met?”
“Nope. Pretty sure I don’t know anyone else at this event. Definitely don’t exercise in your circles.” Waiting for recognition in five, four, three…
“Oh my God. You’re the vet off the ER TV show, aren’t you?”
Boom.
Now I had the interest of the entire table. Next would come the pet questions and stories.
Deep sigh. I muttered, “Beer. Need a beer.”
“You’re her, and…” He stood to scan toward the front of the room. “Are you here with Ian Todd? Oh, wow. I’m guessing you are. So, thereissomething going on between you two? How’d you get put back here? You’re like a celebrity.”
“The key word in that islike.I’m not a real celebrity. Besides, his mom hates me. I’m not her choice.” I smiled and guzzled the rest of the wine in my glass. “That’s why we’re getting beer. Don’t get me wrong, the wine is great, but this is Thanksgiving, which calls for beer and football.”
“She hates me, too.” The buff man laughed and pointed around the table. “Does Victoria Todd hate everyone at this table?”
Bunch of nods and a few laughs.
Three, maybe four beers and another full glass of wine later, I snort laughed with the buff guy, who turned out to be an Olympic triathlete. I’d learned about the triathlete’s greyhound, who kept breaking toes when he did zoomies in the back yard. The lady with stylish black glasses across the table collected pugs who, as expected, had recurrent ear infections. The Silicon Valley programmer to my right had a cat with chronic vomiting his vet couldn’t figure out. We’d discussed strategies for diagnostic testing and non-prescription things he could try.
Dinner arrived and immediately made me wish to skip to dessert. They didn’t even serve turkey as the main dish. What kind of Thanksgiving meal skipped turkey? And stuffing? I starved myself all year for this day to be able to consume too many calories. Okay, I never starve myself. Yet I needed my Thanksgiving food staples. They served the option of either salmon or a gluten-free, vegetarian something-or-other. Both guaranteed to be organically sourced such that I’m sure even the beans had names and a festival in their honor before they were harvested. I held out hope the dessert would make up for missing my holiday foods.
I was tipsy, maybe beyond tipsy, but I wished Ian had been seated next to me. The few times I checked on him up front he had on his perma-smile, but his eyes looked stressed. Maybe I should go save him?
