Page 6 of Love Out Loud

Chapter Three

At five o’clock, Fiona was not in the Upward Media offices as scheduled. Instead, she was at her apartment, frantically showering and changing clothes because of an unexpectedly rough afternoon, including a Labrador Retriever walk-in at closing time with a messy abscess that needed immediate treatment. A shower and a change of clothes werenotoptional.

After toweling her wet hair and throwing on jeans, a T-shirt, and sandals, she grabbed her backpack, said goodbye to Daisy and Otto, sprinted to the corner, and hailed a taxi.

Sliding into the back seat, Fiona read the address off of Jacob’s business card to the driver, and he pulled away from the curb. She ran her finger over the raised phone number on the glossy card. Crap. She should text Jacob and let him know she was running late. With a sigh, she tucked the card into the outer pocket of her backpack. It was already after five, and she was on her way, so why bother? Still catching her breath from her rush, she sat back in the seat. The cab smelled like barf and disinfectant—sort of how she’d smelled before the unplanned shower that had set her schedule back. Better late than disgusting, she supposed.

She reached into her backpack to pull out her hairbrush so she could work through her wet tangles before she arrived but came up empty-handed.Dang.She must have left it somewhere. The office? Home? Perhaps wherever she’d left her dignity?Perfect.Now she was late, wet, and tangled—a look that could only be enhanced by her total lack of makeup.

Studying the green tree-shaped air freshener swinging back and forth under the cab’s rearview mirror like a metronome, she ran her fingers through her hair in an effort to put it into some semblance of order.

Looking on the bright side, being late meant less time working on a speech she didn’t want to give—not even a little bit. It also meant less time alone with the guy who had featured in award-worthy performances in more than one of her dreams since she’d spotted him many months ago. Heck, for his role in her most recent dream, he should be nominated for a Tony Award for best choreography.

She dropped her hands to her lap and sighed. She needed to push those dreams out of her mind. At the coffee shop, when Otto and Daisy tugged on their leashes to get closer to him, he’d immediately scooted back out of their range. She could tell from his physical recoil and facial expression he didn’t like dogs. And here, for months, she’d thought he was perfect. He was far from it. She had three rules for friendship, and he’d busted number one: must love animals.

Well, being her speech coach didn’t require friendship; in fact, not being friends would probably be beneficial.

It was five thirty-seven by the time she made it to the address on Jacob Ward’s business card. Still breathing hard from her frantic shower and sprint, she took the elevator up to the ninth floor and entered the reception room of Upward Media, which looked like a miniature version of a swanky hotel lobby. Comfortable leather club chairs circled a low marble table with trendy magazines on it and a fresh flower arrangement as tall as she was. Fiona’s throat tightened as she approached a burl-wood reception desk and a woman who was every bit as swanky-looking as the lobby. Her bright red hair gleamed in the dramatic down lighting that made the glass top of the reception desk glow.

Not only had Jane wasted money on this ridiculous fiasco, she’d wasted alotof money.

Insides twisting, Fiona stood still as the woman looked her up and down with a curious expression. Fiona didn’t blame her. No makeup. Wet hair. Panting like she’d run a half marathon.

“You must be Dr. Nichol,” the woman said. “I’m Elaine. I’ll take you to your session.”

And just like that, with no paperwork or fuss, she followed the perfectly dressed woman down the hall, theflop-flopof her sandals in contrast to the decisive clicks of Elaine’s high heels.

Elaine opened a door at the end of the hall without knocking and pushed it open partway. She gestured for Fiona to enter.

With a breath, she pushed her glasses up on her nose, lifted her chin, and entered the room.Oooookaaay. Here goes nothing.

Only, it wasn’t nothing. It was something. A huge, horrible something in the form of a room of eight or nine people all sitting in a circle, every one of whom, at that moment, was looking ather. Heart thumping a million miles a minute, she froze in place like her sandals were superglued to the patterned carpet, and she felt ten years old all over again, facing a room full of strangers who were supposed to “help her come out of her shell.” She liked her shell just fine back then, and she liked it even more as an adult, thank you very much.

This Jacob guy should have told her this appointment was a group thing. She would never have agreed to it. That knocked out number two on her requirements for friendship: never lie. Of course, he hadn’t said itwasn’ta group thing, and she hadn’t asked, so maybe she should cut him a break on this one. Still, this sucked, and she was irritated. Gritting her teeth, she lingered just inside the door, teetering between acting like this was all cool or running like she was on fire to the nearest exit.

“Please come on in and have a seat, Fiona,” Jacob said from a chair in the circle. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”

Yeah, if only she’d been that lucky. Stomach doing barrel rolls, she eyed the door longingly over her shoulder, then trudged to the only open chair, which happened to be next to him.

Glancing around the circle, she took in the well-dressed people, all of whom looked TV ready…wait. One guy shedidrecognize from TV. Itchy prickles skittered up her back as she lowered herself into the chair, wishing she had taken the time to dry her hair or at least put on some lip gloss. Glancing down to avoid the group’s curious stares, she noticed her commemorative charity T-shirt she’d pulled on without even turning on the closet light. “Spay Day” was emblazoned in hot pink across her chest, above interlocking male and female symbols marked through with a big X.Freaking perfect.

“This is Dr. Fiona Nichol, and she’ll be with us for the next couple of months,” Jacob explained to the group.

Like hell she would. She’d only agreed to a month, and she wasn’t so sure about that at this moment. Instead of letting on that she wanted to use his crotch for kickball practice, she smiled and gave a ridiculous wave that would have been a real winner delivered from a freaking prom queen on a parade float or something.Crap.She dropped her hand to her lap, stomach roiling.

“So, let’s go again. Whoever wants to go first, jump right in,” Jake said, leaning back in his chair like they were all best friends—a total con she recognized from years of group sessions growing up. “Just relax and observe this time, Fiona. No pressure.”

No pressure.She’d like to apply some pressure in the form of hemostats to his—

“Yeeeeeooooooowwww!” the woman across from her howled.

Heart leaping to her throat, Fiona couldn’t even react before the guy next to her cut loose with a sound like a police siren.

“Woowoowoowoo!”

Alarm freezing her in place, she gripped the sides of her chair and glanced at the smiling faces in the circle.What in the ever-loving—

“Pew, pew, pew,” a woman in a business suit screeched, holding up her fingers like a laser gun.

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