Page 7 of So Wrong It's Right

His lips. My Goddess, his lips. I suddenly feel achy and hollow, waiting for a kiss from those firm lips.

Wait. He said something.Answer him, dummy. I inhale and try to form actual words, but then his eyes zero in on my mouth and his expression changes, and I can’t stop my tongue from wetting my lips. His nostrils flare...just a little...and he swallows hard.

He squeezes a little harder and every nerve ending where our bodies are touching skips a joyous hopscotch. This stranger is going to kiss me, and I am going to let him.

“I see you’ve met Stella.” Like an alarm clock dragging me into consciousness, Dr. Anderson’s voice penetrates the sexual haze around us.

He blinks once, then lets go abruptly, stepping back and putting me off balance. I grab his tie to catch myself, knocking his head into mine with a sharp crack.

“Ouch,” and “shit,” are replied simultaneously. I, of course, am the one with the potty mouth. Holding a hand against my forehead, I take another look at him, startled by the way he glares at me.

“Sorry?” I say. Even though it wasn’t my fault. Not really. Was it? He was the one that was manhandling me from the start.

I shift my attention to my boss. “Hey, Doc. How are...” I’ve seen Doc Anderson after days of little or no sleep, but she’s never looked so pale. The purple crescents under her eyes stand out like the paint on football players before a game. And she looks...smaller. “Leann, what’s wrong?”

“My dad had a stroke last night. He’s in the ICU in Portland. Dr. Rivers is lending us Dr. Lockwood for the week so I can go right away.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I rush across the room to pull her into a hug. “What do they know about his condition?”

Doc Anderson returns the embrace. “Not much, I’m afraid. I would have called you, but I need you in top shape to run the clinic while I’m gone, so I didn’t wake you last night. Brandon McKendrick is driving me to the airport to catch a flight this morning.”

I squeeze her hand. “Of course. Don’t worry about things here. I’ve got it under control. We’ll whip Dr. Lockwood into shape in no time.”

As I give her another quick hug, something inside my brain snaps to attention, knocking at the small knot already on my forehead. Dr. Lockwood...Dr. Lockwood...how do I know that name...? ...I gasp. Loudly.

“Are you all right, Stella?” Doc A asks.

Oh, no.

There is suddenly no air in the room. I cast a glance at Tall, Dark, and Groper and gasp again as everything starts clicking in my brain finally.

“I’m fine,” I answer my boss automatically. “You just worry about your dad. We’ll be fine here.”

I am possibly never going to be fine again.

That fuzzy, grainy picture from the internet, Christopher Lockwood, DVM, my imaginary boyfriend, in the flesh and in my place of employment for a week. I’d conveniently forgotten to break up with him and now he is here. Really here. And looking at me like I’m crazy.

Well, I really am.

Of course Dr. Anderson would call her friend Dr. Rivers when she needed to borrow a vet. And of course her friend would send one. The newest one in the office. But honestly, how could this happen? Does this kind of thing happen to everyone? I try to imagine it happening to my sister and realize that, no, this kind of mayhem is reserved for people like me. My life is a bad comedy premise.

I unbutton my coat and fake smile to them both. “I’ll just get the coffee started while you finish up.” I open a cabinet and get out the pain relievers, turning to offer myboyfriendtwo acetaminophens. “For your head,” I say.

He takes them warily, as if he were afraid I am trying to poison him. “Your dress.”

Strange segue, but okay. I look down, pleased to find I hadn’t misbuttoned the bodice or spilled anything on it. “What about my dress?”

“It’s...it’s very loud.” He shakes his head and follows Doc out of the room.

Loud? I look down again. That was kind of rude. Who does he think he is?

The dress is colorful, yes. White with red cherries and a turquoise sash. Because I am loving the combination of cherry and turquoise lately. They are so fun and cheerful together. But loud? I roll my eyes. Is he the fashion police?

I turn my attention back to the coffee. How am I going to handle this? I do a quick rundown. Only Perry knows the fake boyfriend’s full name and that he is, well, fake. My sister knows his name is Christopher and shesuspectsthat he is a vet. That might be a problem. There are other people in town, including my mom, who only know that Meg knows I am seeing someone named “C.”

I might have embellished some things in subsequent conversations with my sister. Because, well, because it was fun. I thought I’d done a pretty good job of talking him up, but he is even better in person. Those dark eyes...the firm lips...the...I pause scooping the grounds into the basket...I’ve embellished some rather intimate details about Dr. Lockwood’s other parts to my sister. I close my eyes and imagine what it would feel like to be skin to skin, wrapped in those strong arms as we rolled around in...

“Stella?”

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