Page 4 of Rescuing Dr. Marian
“If your family loves you,” I hedged, “they’d want you to enjoy the journey, not just tick the boxes.”
Tommy sighed. “I don’t love living in the city,” he admitted softly.
“I couldn’t do it,” I said. “It wouldn’t be easy to have a dog, which is a dealbreaker.”
His expression brightened. “You have a dog?”
“Not currently, but I’m on the list for a Search and Rescue dog. Hopefully, I’ll get one by summer.”
“You could find a pup and train him up yourself.”
“It’s a lot of work,” I said. “I don’t have time for that. Better if I get one already trained from the program. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be ready for anything serious until summer after next.”
Tommy dredged another pita through the hummus. “Well,promise me if you get a dog, you’ll name him after this dip. It’s amazing.”
I laughed. “Hummus? Very professional name for a SAR dog.”
We continued talking as the evening progressed, ordering more drinks and appetizers.
I learned that Tommy had done a rotation in wilderness medicine in North Carolina, had a love for the outdoors that rivaled my own, and had a close-knit family who’d be arriving in the morning for a wedding. He also told me about growing up in San Francisco and the mountain lodge his family owned, where he’d spent summers hiking and climbing.
I shared stories about my family, too, of course, and the experience of being sheriff in a small tourist town. When I told him about some of the more interesting rescues I’d been involved in, he’d leaned in like he was hanging on my every word.
Hours passed, and I realized I was having more fun talking to Tommy than I’d had in a long time. His sense of humor, which had gotten me through the longest travel day ever, had me laughing out loud more than once, and there was something about his warm hazel eyes and genuine interest in what I had to say that made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t experienced before.
I started to think maybe I didn’t mind fate fucking with me after all. Not if it had led me here, with him.
As the night wore on, the bar began to fill with more people. A karaoke setup was wheeled out, and the first brave souls took to the makeshift stage.
“Oh no,” I groaned as an off-key rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin’” started up. “I should have known there’d be karaoke.”
Tommy grinned. “Not a fan?”
“My ex used to drag me to karaoke bars all the time. He was terrible, but he loved the attention.”
“Matthew-not-Matt, right? The high-maintenance one who was bad at monogamy?”
I was surprised he remembered. “That’s him. He?—”
I stopped mid-sentence as a familiar voice came over the speakers. “Don’t we all have that special someone, the one that got away? Foster, wherever you are out there in this big, beautiful world, this one’s for you!”
My blood ran cold as I slowly turned toward the stage. There, swaying slightly with the mic clutched in his hand, was Matthew. The opening notes of Katy Perry’s “The One That Got Away” began to play.
“Christ, no,” I muttered, turning back to Tommy with what must have been pure panic on my face.
“No way!” Tommy leaned forward, humor dancing in his eyes. “Is that?—?”
“In another life…” Matthew crooned off-key.
“He’s supposed to be in New York,” I hissed, slumping down in my chair, wishing I could disappear.
Tommy’s expression shifted from amusement to concern. “What do you need?”
“A hole to crawl into? A time machine?” I ran a hand through my hair. “I can’t deal with him right now. Not after the day I’ve had.”
“Omigod, Foster? Is that you?” Matthew called from the stage, squinting into the crowd. “He’s here! It’s kismet!”
“People need to stop throwing that word around,” I groaned.
