Page 9 of Doctorshipped
“I love you, Daddy! We’re going to make this town love you too.”
“Not a goal of mine, Fee. As long as you are happy, that’s all I ask. I don’t need a town to love me.” I don’t even want a town to love me. I hope, actually, that they will receive the medical care I give them, and then leave me mostly alone.
I put the car in park, and Fiona bounds out of the passenger seat, up the sloped lawn, and onto the broad porch. She points to her right and turns back toward me.
“There’s even a porch swing! We’ve moved to heaven!”
Or the other destination. Only time will tell.
4
JAYME
Igrabbed my car from the long-term parking lot after retrieving all my belongings off the airport floor and making my way into the late summer heat.
My cheeks warm at the memory of a man touching my underwear and personal items. I forgot I packed my best black bra. Until he handed it to me and looked straight into my eyes with that grey-green gaze that I felt all the way to my toes. And, he’s not just any man, he’s the man I drooled on! What a day. But, I’m home, safe and sound, the memories of the writers’ conference flooding my mind with ideas for novels, and a list of contacts that I need to reach out to.
I pull the lid off the blender and toss in a banana, a hefty scoop of peanut butter, some cacao powder, frozen yogurt, almond milk, and ice, and then I push the button. While our morning smoothie whirs, I consider the man I met on the plane. His daughter was so precious. The way her face lit up when she found out I was an author melted my heart. I’m nowhere near the notoriety of the names she mentioned, but she didn’t seem to care about me being well-known or not.
I wish I could see Fiona again—even if seeing her would mean facing Grant one more time. She felt like a kindred spirit, as Anne of Green Gables would say. I wonder if Fiona’s read L. M. Montgomery. I would bet she has. I also wonder what she meant when she said she doesn’t read books, but she listens to them. Some people just enjoy audiobooks. Maybe that’s her preference.
My housemate, Shannon, bounds down the stairs and rushes into the kitchen.
“Welcome home!” she shouts, throwing her arms around me.
Hugging always highlights the difference in our heights. Her five foot ten frame engulfs me, despite my ample curves.
“So. Tell me everything,” Shannon says, plopping into one of the chairs at the little dinette table we have in the kitchen. “Over smoothies. I missed you.”
“You missed me, or my smoothies?”
“Oh, both. Definitely both. But you more. And the kids were completely miserable.”
Bythe kids,she means our two cats and our bulldog, Groucho. They are my only family. I have parents who live in Columbus, but I’m an only child and we’re not that close, surprisingly. A lot of only children I know are basically the star of their family. I’m more like the appendix in a body. You can live without it, and you don’t exactly know what it’s there for, but it gets a lot of attention if it causes you pain.
Don’t get me wrong. I had a normal, uneventful childhood. We moved to Bordeaux from Columbus during my Sophomore year in high school when my grandpa died and left the family dairy to my dad. When I graduated from Bordeaux High, I left to pursue an undergraduate degree at OSU—journalism with a minor in education. My parents sold the farm while I was away and moved back to my childhood home in Columbus. Their marriage is one reason I’m not a huge fan of actual romance.
Imagine a piece of paper and a bandaid having a relationship. If you took two of the most nondescript items on the planet and created a holy union, that would be Marge and Jim Culhane. They stick together, and that’s about it. Growing up watching a nearly platonic marriage, day in and day out, sort of killed my taste for anything smacking of long-term commitment.
I never had a boyfriend in high school, and only had a few dates in college. I’m the type of girl men tend to overlook or befriend. I’m bookish, a little quirky, and my figure is what I affectionately callample.
Despite my lack of romance, I’d say I have a great life.
I really didn’t experience anything worthy of grief until my ex-boyfriend decided to dump me for a redhead wearing a tight shirt that showed off her assets. I’ve always been more of a jeans and graphic T-shirt girl myself.Comfort over fashioncould be one of my life philosophies. Shane apparently wanted what most men want: a woman who fits a certain mold. He was my first serious relationship—and he will be my last.
Whatever.
Men.
I love them—when we’re just friends, or when they’re committed to one of my girlfriends. Otherwise, who needs them? Not me.
“So? Was the conference all you hoped it would be?” Shannon asks as I set her smoothie in front of her and plop into another kitchen chair.
“It was. I met some great writers. Got some good plot ideas, and learned a few marketing strategies. Not that I’ll use them, but I learned them. My agent was there. He’s pushing the vampire stories to another publishing house and we may have an audiobook deal. All that was amazing. I’m tired, but it was worth it.”
“All but the fiasco in the airport,” Shannon quips.
“That was so nuts! And it was all me. I left my license in the bathroom. That could have gone a thousand different ways. None of them good.”
