Page 17 of A Cozy Holiday
“Thanks,” I say, glancing back at the monitor. “She’s just really important to me.”
“I bet.” He shifts gears, and I watch his hand move. “But—”
“Ugh, don’t say it.”
“What?”
“‘You’ll never know real love until you have children of your own.’”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” His eyes cut to me, dancing with amusement. “I was going to say that if you keep staring at the baby monitor, you’re going to get carsick. And I just scrubbed some goop the girls made at school out of these seats.”
“You’re such a dad.”
“Wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“A real Gandhi over here.”
“‘Where there is love, there is life.’”
“You know Gandhi?”
“Not all of us need a big-city education to know how to read.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Relax.” He glances at me again, and this time, his eyes linger just long enough to make my pulse skip. “I’m just messing with you.”
I switch from the baby cam to my notes app, where I’m already writing lists, priorities, goals, and supplies that aren’t covered in earwax that I need to order.
“This morning you said funds were a little tight?” I ask, acting like I’m not at all affected by the way his hands look on the steering wheel.
“I’ve got enough for the basics, but nothing too fancy. Definitely not able to pay myself enough to start saving for the girls’ education funds, though.”
“Are you asking for donations on social media?” I say, keeping my voice businesslike. “My clinic fundraises that way, and it’s highly successful.”
He turns, knotting his eyebrows at me. Two deep lines appear between his eyes, and I find them incredibly sexy. “Nah, kept things as my pop had everything. Just local donations and government programs.” He eyes me. “And the only social media I see is when my girls put on YouTube.”
“Jamie, listen. Get a picture of you shirtless, holding Arrietty’s baby in a few weeks, and you’ll go viral. Mark my words.”
“Am I going shirtless for views or just for you?”
My mouth opens and closes. He’s definitely flirting. Meanwhile, my brain is offering me absolutely nothing in return. Blank chart. Spinning wheel of death. Parker’s version of flirting was me clapping at reruns of his college basketball games and saying,Wow, nice shot, baby.Not exactly a transferable skill set in this situation.
Maybe later I’ll read some articles on how to flirt without sounding like a middle schooler. For now, I have a job to focus on.
“I’m just kidding, Doc,” he says with that stupidly charming drawl.
Doc.
No man in the city ever said it like that. Most of them barely said it at all.
“Right, Cowboy.” I say it sarcastically, but he tips his hat. I guess I can buy supplies out of my charity budget this year. I have plenty of money.
“Now,” I pivot. “How long have these reindeer been sick?”
“Don’t you have enough stuff on that list for today?”
“No. This is a light day. Usually by this time, I’ve neutered three animals, met with six patients, and am prepping for my midmorning doggy dental cleaning.”
