Page 31 of Pucked Up Plans
“Medical transcription.”
I rub my chin, not understanding. “Interesting.”
She promptly calls me out. “You have no idea what that means.”
“Not even a clue.” My chuckle overpowers her feminine laughter. Hers has a melodic quality, light and high-pitched, the sound gentle to my ears.
“Basically, it’s typing doctors’ notes into patients’ charts.”
“Ah, okay.”Nice comeback, Keeley.
“It pays the bills. And it’s highly entertaining. Maybe it’s not my forever job, but it’s exactly what I need right now. For both me and Aubrey.”
“How long have you been doing it? What type of doctors do you work with? What’s the best thing you’ve ever heard?” I fire one question after another, suddenly completely intrigued by the idea.
“I started in high school for my pediatrician, which is a long, crazy story of how it came to be.” She waves the thought away with a roll of her eyes, then resumes. “Now, I’ve got about a dozen doctors. As for the craziest…”
Not letting her finish her sentence, I can’t help but blurt, “How did you find a job so quickly after moving here?”
“I didn’t. It’s the same job I’ve had for the past six years.”
I scratch my head, trying to make sense of her words. “Excuse my ignorance, but how does that even work? No way you can commute to Kansas from Vermont.” Totally into this story, I need a snack and some water. “Hold that thought. Can I get some water? And possibly another muffin? Even though I’ve already had two blueberry and the leftover chocolate chip Lennon didn’t eat.” When I hear it aloud, it makes me out to be apig. “Never mind. I don’t need another one. They’re so good, my brain wants another even though I shouldn’t. Too many treats slow down my skating.”
Tate laughs at my rambling. Standing up, she grabs a muffin from the container and drops it gently on my plate. “As long as I save three for Aubrey, you can have as many as you’d like. They’ll look better on your hips than mine, especially since you’ll have them skated off in no time.” Mortification fills her face, and she quickly turns away.
I can’t help my eyes drifting to her hips. She’s got some curves, but nothing to be ashamed about. It’s just the right amount to hold onto and spear myself into her from behind…
If I were into that sort of thing.
Which I totally would be with Tate.
Like she’d give me the time of day. She’s got enough on her plate without the baggage I bring with me. Lennon’s cute and all, and we’re a package deal, but we don’t come without our problems, most of which the likes of someone like Tate won’t want to be involved with. Nor could I blame her.
Lennon’s groggy wail interrupts my thoughts. “Daddy!”
I jolt out of my seat before she finishes the second syllable.
She’s sitting up on the couch, tears streaming down her cheeks. I make my way across the living room in three strides, panic filling every vein.
“Lennon, what’s the matter?” My eyes scan her for the issue making her cry. A parent’s worst nightmare is seeing his/her kid hurt, not knowing what’s wrong. The fear of not being able to do anything to help your child may be worse.
My panic lessens when I notice the issue, the vise constricting my lungs instantly waning.
Scooping her into my arms, I cradle her head against my chest. Though she’s not hurt, she’s most likely embarrassed.
“It’s okay, Squirt. We’ll clean you up. Don’t cry.” I hope my voice is soothing enough for what she needs.
“Hey. Is she okay? What can I do to help?” Tate’s concerned voice greets my ears, and it matches her expression when I glance in her direction.
“She had an accident,” I whisper, careful not to let Lennon hear me, nodding my head toward the stain on the couch.
She jumps into action, the experienced mother shining through. “Let me get you some clothes to change her.”
I fall to the floor, my back to the couch, Lennon quietly whimpering in my arms. “It’s okay, Len. Tate’s getting you some clothes to borrow, and you’ll be all dry.”
She moves her head away from my chest, peering up at me through wet lashes. Even though she’s okay, my heart threatens to break into pieces at her tearful expression. Anything to soothe the pain, physical or emotional.
“I peed on the couch and I’m not supposed to. Don’t be mad ’cause I didn’t mean to.” Her voice shakes, drawing deeper emotions from me.
