Page 1 of Love Out Loud

Chapter One

It all happened because of an award. Well, actually, it was because of a major freak-out over an award—more specifically, the mandatory acceptance speech for said award, which of course had to happen in front of a room full of strangers—and that, for Fiona Nichol, was the very definition of “hell.”

The event was two months out, and she’d received the call from the president of the award committee at work yesterday. Her coworkers had gone wild when they found out, but the mere thought of giving a speech scrambled her thoughts and threw Fiona off track.

With a frustrated growl, she fumbled to lock her apartment while clutching two paper grocery bags against her like they were unruly toddlers. Lumpy, heavy toddlers.

Ordinarily, she’d be prepping her exam room for her first patient by now, but instead, she was running late for the first time since she’d begun working as the in-house veterinarian for SoHo’s premier animal care boutique, Animal Attraction. In fact, it was the first time she’d been late for a patient appointmentever.All because she’d been so upset and distracted about that blasted speech. She’d arrived at work without the supplies she’d promised and had to come back home to get them.

Gritting her teeth, she adjusted the bags higher on her ribs, then navigated the precarious descent from her second-floor apartment by sheer luck. Peeking through the narrow crack between the heavy bags, she hoped to heaven she didn’t end up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

When she made it to the ground level after bobbling only once, she let out a sigh of relief that was cut short by thedingof the elevator to her left—the elevator that, in retrospect, she should have chosen instead of the stairs. Huffing out a breath, she adjusted the bags so they didn’t mash her boobs.

When the doors slid open, her already-pounding heart tripped. It was the person she always secretly hoped to bump into—the hot guy she’d been eyeing since she’d moved into this building a year ago with her two cairn terriers, Daisy and Otto, but hadn’t ever spoken with. They both left for work around the same time…and if she were honest with herself, she would admit to loitering in the lobby on occasion just to get a glimpse of him when he passed through. To her frustration, he had never shown more interest than a dismissive look at her and her little dogs before he strode straight out the door without even pausing.

But not today. Today, when he stepped off the elevator, he didn’t look at her and make a beeline for the doors. Instead, he took her in and glanced around the lobby as if looking for Daisy and Otto. He’d never seen her without them before.

This was her chance. She could finally talk to him. She took a deep breath, then let it out in a disheartened sigh. Okay, so staring at him was one thing; talking to him was another.

Heart rate elevated to that of a small rodent, she tried to appear casual as she made her way toward the revolving door, wishing she were more like her best friends, Jane and Caitlin—wishing she could smile at Hot Guy and strike up small talk, discover who he was and why he always seemed so put-together with his dark hair perfectly in place, his fresh-shaven chin raised in an air of confidence, and clothes all matching and expensive-looking. Even when he wasn’t dressed in a suit like he was today, he invariably had an air of direction and purpose.

In other words, he was her complete opposite.

So, instead of snatching this perfect opportunity dropped in front of her nose and finally meeting her secret crush, she retreated, bags wobbling precariously.

The revolving door made a whooshing sound as a delivery man entered the building, and since her arms were full, she took the opportunity to enter while the door was still rotating. As she nudged with her elbow to keep the door in motion, Otto’s favorite squeaky toy, Sir Squash, tumbled off the top of one of the bags and bounced, wedging itself between the door and floor, bringing the whole contraption to a screeching—or rather, squeaking—halt.

Blast.

And then she heard it. A lighttap-tap-tapon the glass behind her. Someone had followed her into the revolving door. Not just someone. Without looking, she knew exactly who it was.Him.

After a deep breath, she snuck a quick glance over her shoulder to find him in the next section of the door behind her. Mr. Perfectly Put Together was right there, stuck in the revolving door with Dr. Fiona Falling Apart. Closing her eyes, she cursed her bad luck.

Tap-tap-tap.

Her heart jumped at the sound, and she froze. Unable to face him yet, she did her customary calming routine.Breathe in four counts, hold seven, exhale eight.Then, she gave the door a shove so that it would rotate enough to free the wedged dog toy and let Hot Guy out.

Nothing. The door didn’t budge. She shoved it again and grimaced at her horrifying reality. She’d jammed the door and was now stuck in a tiny, confined space separated from her super-crush by glass, like a fish in a bowl.

“Good morning,” he said from his own little glass wedge of hell. “This is an unexpected way to start the day.”

Ya think?Bags still pressed against the brass push bar, she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. This was going to make her even later.

“If we both push hard at the same time, I think we can get out of here,” he continued in a sexy, masculine voice that matched him to a T.

With a fortifying breath, she turned toward him, her back against the outer edge of the curved glass encasing the door. It was a good thing she’d taken a breath, because when she faced him, she forgot how to breathe altogether.

He was taller up close. And better-looking, which she hadn’t thought possible, dammit. He had perfectly straight, white teeth—she noticed because he was smiling, something she’d never seen him do before in her brief Hot Guy sightings. Heat spread up her neck and across her face. At least she wasn’t covered in dog and cat hair, like she would be by lunchtime.

“Okay,” he said through the glass. “I’m going to step on the end of the yellow thing to keep it in place, and we’ll both push. Hopefully, the door will rotate off of it.”

She nodded.

“Push on three,” he said. “Ready?”

She faced forward and pressed her forearms, wrapped around the bags, against the push bar.

He counted down, and after a few attempts and a hard shove, the dog toy popped free from the bottom of the revolving door with a mortifying squeak that dropped in pitch and fizzled out in a pathetic sputter, just like Fiona’s dignity.

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