Page 29 of Forget About Me

“Sorry, I just saw your car and wanted to see if it was you.” He rests both hands on the roof, bending his long torso until we’re eye to eye. “I’m so glad you came tonight.”

Grabbing a tissue from my purse, I blow my nose. “It wasn’t fun to watch, but you were good,” I say, glad I have Shakespeare to blame for my tears.

“Ben, are you coming?” a female voice calls across the parking lot.

He waves at her. “Yeah, I’ll meet you there,” before turning back to me. “We’re having a closing party tonight. You should come, meet some of theTwo Gentscast.”

I grip the steering wheel, not sure if I’m ready to spend time with Ben without the structure of dog training to keep me from touching him. Or hitting him.

He grins. “It’s a fun crowd ready to blow off steam.”

Actually, I am sure. I’m not ready. “Thanks, that would be nice??—?”

His widening smile stalls my train of thought. How can curving lips bend my will so effortlessly? Forcing myself to look away, I scrabble in my purse again. By the time I find my keys, I’m back under control. Giving all my attention to the ignition switch and tricky clutch in our family station wagon, I say, “But I can’t. Work tomorrow, you know.”

When his face falls, I press my lips together, not allowing myself to want him to want me or to need him to need me.

“Sure, yeah. Okay, well then, I’ll see you tomorrow for our appointment?”

“Yep.”

He straightens and steps away as I shift into reverse. “Thanks for coming.”

My resolve hanging by a thread, I back out of the parking spot and drive home.

The next morning, my head still clogged with memories, I push open the door to exam room three. “Good morning, how are we do—?” My mouth and my body freeze when a snarling chow chow lunges for my jugular.

Thankfully, the owner has a muzzle on the dog and a firm hold on the leash. Despite the fight-or-flight response surging through me, I speak calmly and slowly. “I am so sorry. I didn’t realize it was Twinkie in here. I’m going to exit, give her a few minutes to calm down, and we’ll try this again.”

I catch an irritated nod from the human as well as a growl from the dog as I slowly close the door. Out in the hall, I scan the chart, something I should’ve donebeforeentering.

Deanna raises a brow as she squeezes by with a cat carrier. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I hold up the chart, which very clearly indicates an aggressive patient. “I just barged in on a red sticker.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I know, I’m just…” What I want to say is,I’ve just got my head up my ass, but I don’t say those things anymore.

She bends the folder to eye the paperwork. “Oh, Twinkie. Yeah, she’ll be cool as long as you are. She’s not too smart, so a do-over will probably work.”

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

Deanna gives me an assessing look before lifting the meowing cage. “Gotta go knock this baby down, but if you need to talk…”

“Thanks, I’ll let you know.”

I’m a pro at dealing with aggressive dogs. Usually. What I’m not so good at is dealing with my own feelings about a guy who I don’t want to admit that I’ve missed like I’d miss a vital organ.

Big breaths. Get your shit—dammit—dang it—act together, Lucy. Twinkie needs her exam, her owner needs reassurance and you need to get your head on straight.

CHAPTER TEN

“Do the Dog” - The Specials

Lucy’s Keep on Truckin’ Mixtape, Song #7

BEN

---