Page 260 of Small Town Firsts
She sat. Waited. Blinked innocently.
“Do you have some rapid-fire system that allows you to forward my emails to your friend in an instant? I’ve never seen anyone reply so quickly.”
April’s lips twitched. “She’s very conscientious.”
Now there was no doubting my throat was tight. “She?”
“Why, yes. Didn’t you realize? Ryan is a woman.” Now she did smile, widely. “She can’t wait to meet you.”
TWO
“Areyou sure you won’t take a kitten?”
I forced myself to smile for Tracy, one of the head volunteers at Kitten Around, one of our local cat shelters. “You know my lifestyle isn’t conducive to pets, unfortunately.”
That didn’t seem likely to change.
It had been four days since April’s surprise vacation announcement and my introduction to Miss Moon—I still hadn’t gotten over the fact she was female, which said something about me I didn’t care to entertain—and subsequent email exchange.
Since then, April had not decided to cancel her vacation. She hadn’t decided to select another, likely more suitable friend to fill in for her.
All she’d done was clock out for the week with a jaunty smile, a wave, and a promise to send a postcard. Yippee.
And Ryan was still coming to work for me on Monday. Assuming she could make it in eventually, since mornings were soiffyand all.
“I know, since you’re so busy. You have so many high-powered cases. So much responsibility and influence.” Tracy’s smile turned feral at the edges, accompanied by a lot of blinking her clearly faux eyelashes. “No time for a wife either?”
If I’d had a tie, she might’ve reached out and stroked it. Not the first time from her or others. My tie seemed to be a magnet for wandering female hands. Probably because I tended to wear ones in bright colors that drew the eye.
I’d pocketed today’s tie on the walk in from my car. I’d had a very long day, and the shelter was about to close. If I’d been thinking sensibly, I would’ve just gone home for a burger on the grill and my requisite single glass of Maker’s Mark every Friday evening. Never two. Always just one, no matter how arduous the week had been.
Or the year.
“I don’t date.”
“Really? Never?”
“No.”
She exhaled. “Wow,” she said under her breath.
Every time, the response was the same. Wide eyes. A hand lifted to the chest. Then sympathy, oozing out around a smile.
Did you get your heart broken? Poor thing.
No. You have to have one for it to break.
In my case, I was fairly certain the fluid in my veins was a mix of ice water and coconut-caramel coffee.
With what I dealt with day in and day out, who could blame me? Saying I witnessed love gone wrong was putting a positive spin on it. In truth, many of our clients had never loved each other at all. They married for lots of reasons, but affection wasn’t at the top of the list. Or if it had been once, the feeling had dissipated quickly.
Some said love and hate were opposite sides of the same coin. So were infatuation and love. And it was far too easy to confuse one for the other.
Before Tracy started the usual spate of questions, I whipped out my platinum card and slapped it on the counter. Her eyes widened for an entirely different reason.
We’d done this dance before, minus the dating questions. But she’d just started volunteering a few months ago and had been tiptoeing to this point all this time.
“I’d like to make a donation.” I named a figure ten percent higher than my usual and her throat bobbed. “The wing probably needs improvements.”
