Chapter 4
CLARE WOKE UP FEELING like the worst cliché. She could see her life as a news headline.
“Desperate jilted bride attacks unassuming male veterinarian. Details at six.”
She groaned and rolled over. What an idiot. The wide blades of the ceiling fan whirred overhead, cutting through the stream of morning sunlight. But she was entitled to be a little off balance, right?
Well, she’d had her moment, now she could forget it. Of course the kiss had only been one of the moments. There’d been many more before that. Deacon Montgomery wasn’t going to be easy to forget.
With an arm thrown over her eyes, she sighed. She needed bacon and waffles. Maybe a bagel with cream cheese and that super-thin smoked salmon, followed by a good, strong talk with Jess.
Deacon wasn’t joking about the breakfast buffet, and seated at a small table for two, she ate all she’d planned and more. She sipped her mimosa and people watched, contemplating going back for round two. A glass half wall separated the restaurant from the landscaping and stone path where people strolled on their way to the pool or beach. Beyond that was pale sand and sparkling water. She thought of Deacon and smiled, wondering what he was doing, if he was speaking right this minute, and how it was going.
She was just thinking to call Jess when her cell buzzed in her bag.
“Hey. I was just about to call you.”
“Finally!” Jess said. “You were supposed to call me last night. I’ve been dying! How are you?”
“I’m good. You should see where I’m sitting right now.”
“Jealous. But how are you really?”
“I’m good.”
“Clare.” Jess’s tone said that answer wasn’t going to cut it after the rush from the church just… Two days ago? It seemed like longer. “It’s weird, but really, I am. And I swear I was just about to call you.”
“Hmm. You’re only forgiven because I talked to your mom.”
“Oh, jeez. Please tell me you’re not all calling each other, asking about me. ‘How’s poor Clare? Have you talked to her?’ Because that’s pathetic.”
“Mmm…there may have been a few calls. Oh, and Connor called me. He’s been a real jerk lately,” Jess added, sounding sulky.
“Really? You two fighting? Call me shocked.” Jess and Connor had been poking at each other since they could walk.
Jess huffed. “Whatever. He was checking on you, so I ignored most of his overbearing jerk tendencies. So the place is nice?”
“Heavenly.”
“Is it mostly couples? If it is, I hope the men are balding and middle-aged, with sunburned beer bellies.”
Clare pictured Deacon, who was anything but, and felt a distinct tingle. “Mmm.” She absently drew her fork through the syrup on her plate. “There are a lot of couples, but there are also some conferences going on so, you know, single people, too.”
“Ooh. Do tell. Have you met any of these single people?”
“Well…actually, I did meet someone. We had dinner last night.”
“Wait. Someone, as in a man?”
“Yes.” A very sweet, smart, and gorgeous man.
“Details,” Jess said around a mouthful of whatever she was eating.
“It was Asian fusion, really good. Mine came with this black rice called—”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
Clare laughed. “We had dinner.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He’s nice. He’s a veterinarian. He’s here for a conference.”
“And? Are you having a honeymoon affair with this Dr. Hottie?”
“What? No! One it’s not a honeymoon, and two, just no. He walked me back to my door like a perfect gentleman, and then I…” Clare groaned. “Oh, crap, Jess. I’m such an idiot.”
“Oh. My God. You did not!”
“Did not… No! Jess!”
“Well, just tell me then.”
“He was looking at me and I thought… Hell. I don’t know what I thought, and…” She covered her face with her hand. “It was awful.”
“Eww. Really?”
“No. Not really. Not the millisecond brush of our lips.” More like the most earth-shattering one-second kiss in history. “But the fact that it wasn’t intentional. At least not on his part. He was going in for a kiss on the cheek and— It’s like I didn’t even know myself. Like an out-of-body experience, and I just kissed him. What is wrong with me?” Her voice rose an octave. “I should be antimen at this point. I should be looking into convents.”
“Antimen or not, you went out to dinner with him.”
“I wouldn’t say I went out, exactly. We had dinner together. We were both there. We ate. It wasn’t like a date.”
“Hmm. You’re doing an awful lot of explaining for it to be nothing.”
“That’s because it is nothing. He’s…” She thought of the warm brush of his hand on her face and the tingling vibration that short kiss had left on her lips. Even now, she almost touched them before she stopped herself. “He’s really nice. That’s all.”
“Is?”
“Huh?”
“You said is. Not was. Does that mean you’re seeing him again?”
“I hope not,” she said and felt the lie crawl through her. “Besides the fact that it would be mortifying, I think it’s best to leave it as a sexy unexpected kiss with a stranger. My one sexy-kiss story.”
“Sexy kiss, huh? A second ago, it was a mere brushing of the lips.” Jess laughed.
“Glad you’re finding this funny.”
“Oh, I am.” Jess sighed. “Do you really have to move to Chicago?”
“I do. I start my job next week. But the city could be fun.”
“I guess,” Jess said sadly. “I’ll visit, of course. Maybe we can make it a whole Sex in the City deal.”
Clare laughed. “Maybe. And you know, I think maybe it’s better to change direction completely than stay on the same path, constantly searching for that right turn. That’s what I’ve done, you know? Just continued driving, searching, wanting, not even realizing I was on the wrong rode. Out of gas. At a dead end.”
“That’s quite the metaphor.”
“It is, isn’t it? Might be my second mimosa.”
“That’s really mean when you know I’m drinking crappy office coffee. And I like to think of it less like a road and more like a roller coaster. Get on, get the thrill, get off. Look for a new one. A lot faster and a hell of a lot more satisfying than driving around.”
As much as Jess’s shitty home life drove her to steer far and clear of repeating it, Clare’s storybook childhood made her dream of duplicating it. But she was done with that. New city. New job. New life plan.
“Mmm. You’ve got your own nice metaphor.”
“Yes, I do. And I don’t even have champagne.”
Clare rolled the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I think—”
“No. No more thinking. I want doing. Preferably with the hot doctor.”
She smiled. “Okay, bossy, but I was just going to say that I think this is exactly what I needed.”
“The vacation or the man?”
“Hmm… Good ques—”
“The correct answer is both,” Jess said emphatically. “Oh, shit. Sorry. My boss is coming in. Gotta go, but, Clare?”
“Yeah?”
“Should the opportunity arise, promise me for once in your life, you won’t overthink it.”
“I—”
“Love you, bye.”
“Love you, too,” Clare said, but Jess had already ended the call.
* * *
DEACON STOOD BEFORE THE room of nearly one hundred of his fellow small-animal surgeons, pointing out the details on a slide of x-rays, showing the new less-invasive method he’d developed for setting traumatic bone injuries.
He’d been speaking for just over an hour, and more than once, he’d thought of Clare’s advice. Not that he’d practiced standing on one foot, but he did picture her sitting across from him. She definitely took his mind off the public speaking fear—so much so that he had to concentrate not to lose his train of thought.
Definitely hadn’t had time to get worked up over his presentation last night or this morning since every thought of public speaking now made him think of Clare, which filled his mind with a running replay of that knock-you-sideways kiss she’d laid on him.
He’d been dying to kiss her, waffling between pressing her back against the door and telling himself it was a horrible idea, horrible timing. Then she’d kissed him and been gone before he could gather a coherent thought. He’d stood outside her door for a full minute, wanting to ask her what that was about and if she was okay. Was she apologizing to him or just in general? Did she feel guilty somehow, even though she wasn’t the one to call off the wedding? But mostly, he thought, he just wanted to kiss her again.
He paused to take a sip of water then glanced at his watch. “That ends the placement and stabilization portion,” he said, looking out over the room. “After lunch, I’ll address post-op and complications. So…uh, have a good lunch. See you back here at one.”
He busied himself with his laptop, waiting for the mass of eyes in the room to turn to each other instead of him. As the murmurs grew louder and people stood to leave, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Dr. Montgomery.” A tall, slim young man stopped him just as he started down the aisle. “I wondered if I could pick your brain for a minute.”
He glanced at the man’s name tag. They’d met at the meet-and-greet. His wife and two young kids were back in Minnesota. “Sure, Jim.”
Deacon listened to the man’s detailed issue: a cat suffering from feline leukemia. He gave his opinion, best he could without seeing the full chart and x-rays.
“Montgomery.” Off to his right, Murray waved a hand. “We’re going to swing by the pool, grab a drink and a minute of sun before lunch.”
“All right, man. I’ll meet you there.” And would Clare be out by the pool? Is she a pool person or a beach person? He hadn’t asked, hadn’t gotten the chance. He’d wondered a lot of things about her, staring at the ceiling last night, reliving the way her soft mouth had opened under his, remembering the light scent of coconut and her fingers gripping his shirt, pulling him in. And he’d been just about to dive headfirst when she’d ended the kiss and practically vanished behind her closed door.
He answered all of Jim’s questions, and by the time he made it outside, he had ten minutes left, barely enough time to look for Clare, much less find her. He needed to let it go, store it away as the perfect kiss, and leave it at that.
Squinting against the intense light, he pulled out his phone as he walked. No missed calls, just a text from his best friend and clinic partner, Jax, with the postsurgery vitals he’d asked for. He replied, hit send. He wondered about the weather at home, if it would indeed snow as the forecast predicted. More car accidents happened in bad weather. More four-legged animals got hit by them, too. But Margo and Maci loved the snow. They were just getting old enough to get into snowman building. Based on his weather app, forecasters had eased off the snow and were leaning more toward a wet wintery mix.
He walked on, taking in the bodies dotting the pool deck in sun and shade. Others stood in waist-deep pool water. The sound of voices and low music coming from hidden speakers grew as he got closer to the bar. He imagined his younger self, kicked back with a beer, before he’d become a responsible father of two.
And with that thought, another followed. What the hell am I doing out here? He cursed himself for being an idiot and turned to go back inside. He’d called his mom last night to check on the girls, but he would skip the drink and minute in the sun and call again. He glanced down at his watch, saw Margo and Maci wouldn’t get out of preschool for another thirty minutes. Damn, he wanted to talk to them, hear their little voices.
When he looked back up, he nearly ran right into the woman who’d so dominated his thoughts.
Just stepping out of the pool, Clare stopped short upon seeing him and nearly stumbled back. Water streamed over her stomach and down long, trim legs. Even in a two-piece his grandmother would approve of, that body was enough to kill a man. Her hair hung over her shoulders. Beads of glistening water dripped from the ends and slid down her chest.
She tipped her face up to his. “Hi.”
“Hi. Enjoying the pool?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Her gaze jumped away from his face then back. “How was your talk?”
“Good. You helped.”
Her full lips curved up shyly. “I knew you’d do fine.” She lifted one foot then the other. “Damn. This is hot.” She stepped to the side to slip her feet into flip-flops sitting by the edge. She had one on and was going for the second when she squeaked, made a grab for his arm, and nearly tumbled back into the pool.
And for the second time, he caught Clare against him. His hands went to her waist to steady her, and just that touch sent most of his level-headed ideas flying. They stood for a moment, her bare, wet skin burning his palms. His heart rate picked up, and he caught her scent—coconut and oranges.
“Sorry. Shoe problem. Again. This is embarrassing,” she said, eyes on her feet, working the flip-flop between her toes. “You’re always catching me.”
He let his fingers tighten the slightest bit on her flesh, wanting to slide them around to her back and draw her closer.
With her shoes on, she looked back up. “I’m going to get you wet.”
He was just about to say he didn’t mind, but she stepped back, and he dropped his hands.
Let it go. Move on.
She shifted on her feet, stared past his shoulder, then met his eyes again. “I hope you’re not angry after the…you know, last night. I mean, I have no idea if you’re married, or… I mean, you probably would have said something if you were, but…”
She went on, talking quickly, much like she had last night at the bar.
“Maybe you have a girlfriend or…or maybe you just don’t like to be kissed like that or—”
Deacon felt himself smiling. There was just no way to stop it. “Do you always apologize so profusely when you kiss someone?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t kiss many people.”
He nodded, storing that away. “Good to know. Also, I’m not married. No girlfriend. I do like being kissed like that, though I can’t say I’ve ever been kissed quite like that.”
“No?”
“No. But then you’ve never kissed me before.” And that was definitely not letting it go.
She stared at him, utterly still. “That’s…good.”
“That’s true.” And he couldn’t let it go, because seeing her again drove home what he already knew. If it was only physical, he could and would walk away and forget it. But it was more than that. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”
“Oh, well…” She averted her eyes again. “You know, I’m not really looking to get involved with anyone.” She huffed out a laugh. “Obviously, you couldn’t tell by the way I acted last night, but I’m really not. I mean, that would be crazy. Seeing as why I’m here and all and…”
“I’m not, either,” he said and meant it.
The last woman had left a bitter taste. A woman who would walk away from her babies without a backward glance would do that. But for whatever reason, he just couldn’t let this go. Couldn’t let Clare go.
“So, you just want to have dinner?”
“Yes.” No, not just. But anything else he wanted he’d do well to forget about.
“Okay.” Her purely kissable lips turned up into a sweet smile. “Why don’t I meet you?”
“That works. Any preferences?”
“Not really. I have six nights and six more restaurants. I plan to hit them all.”
“Okay. Want to try the Italian? Say, seven thirty?”
“Sure.”
“Great.” Smiling, he gave her hip a pat. “Try to stay on your feet until then.”