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She had Sunday off. Hannah felt bad that Cortland had been covering six days a week at the clinic. Which was a good thing because Cortland hadn’t slept well the night before.
She had fallen asleep at about ten o’clock on the sofa at home. The kittens had startled her awake, climbing into her lap. Dozing off again, she slipped into a dream. It seemed real, but it was a dream. Of that, she was sure. Cortland could hear the phone ringing, but she couldn’t get to it.
As dreams usually do, this one didn’t make sense, though it had remnants of many of her previous nightmares. She could hear her phone’s ring tone, but she sat in the front passenger seat of her family’s old Jeep Grand Cherokee. And her older sister, Jessica, was driving. They were speeding. In the back seat, her brother, Greg, egged Jess to go faster to get to the phone. Somehow, they all knew it was Auntie Faith calling. The faster sixteen-year-old Jessica drove the louder the phone rang, as though they were getting closer. Suddenly, Cortland was standing alone on the side of the road, the Jeep overturned, her brother and sister gone. The cell phone was clutched in her hand. It had stopped ringing.
Cortland woke trembling and tearful. She bolted from the couch, knowing she’d be awake the rest of the night. Reliving the accident as part of a dream was not unusual but always uncanny. Why the ringing phone before the accident? That wasn’t how it happened. Why had Jess been in her dream about Aunt Faith? Had her aunt really called? Or had it been some psychic connection telling her something was wrong? It being four-sixteen in the morning, she was not going to call her godmother, even if it was just after midnight in Alaska.
If Aunt Faith had called, it must have been an emergency. Her mind skittered across a good dozen ideas. Was she ill? Did someone break into the house? Was one of the animals sick? Did she need Cortland? Pacing the apartment didn’t help, nor did a glass of warm milk.
Snatching up the phone, she toggled through its recent call history. There wasn’t any listing of anyone calling after eight o’clock that night when Hannah had called about a patient. So, the entire thing was a dream?
She went outside, taking her boxer-cross mutt Harris with her on his leash. They walked their usual path through the woods surrounding her small apartment complex. A well-worn path all the dog-owning tenants used for relief purposes. While he stopped and sniffed along the trail, her mind kept jumping back to the dream. It felt too real to not be, yet Jessica was there. Was it the mingling of her recurring nightmare with an imaginary phone call?
Hannah? Was Hannah having second thoughts about giving her the day off? Had something come up. But the cell phone’s call history had been blank for the last nine hours. Clearly, no one had called her.
Shaking her head vehemently, she stuffed the phone back in her pocket as Harris pulled at his leash, wanting to sniff yet another tree along the path. Tugging Harris along, she had a long list of things to do in preparation for tonight’s date with Dawson. The arrangements had been made, and they would meet at The Irish Harp.
After agreeing to the date with Dawson, she booked herself into the Calypso Day Spa. Preparations for her dinner with him began at nine in the morning. Part of the local casino complex, the spa had everything from a sauna, an indoor and outdoor swimming pool, a whirlpool, and a long list of body treatments. Her agenda for the day included hitting the sauna and whirlpool to ease her muscles, an ayurvedic whole body herbal and oil exfoliating scrub, followed by a massage, a facial, mani and pedi. She would receive a spa salad lunch at noon on the patio. She added a cosmetic consult in the last hour of her stay.
By six o’clock, she waited impatiently in the restaurant. When she left the house, her spirit should have been light and adventurous. Instead, she didn’t feel right. The makeup felt heavy and foreign on her skin though the esthetician had applied it very lightly, going for a natural look. She wasn’t dissatisfied with the results, but she wasn’t used to having a coating on her face. Or mascara that made her eyelids feel heavy and droopy. Add to all that the new clothes she had bought specifically for her date. The blouse was uncomfortably more revealing than her work scrubs. But here now, waiting for him in a booth, a tremor ran through her, and her stomach ached. This is stupid. You already know this man. It’s just a friendly dinner together. She clicked her tongue. And you still owe him curly fries.
––––––––
Glancing out the window onto the street, she spotted him. Half of her wanted to flee. The other half wanted to shuck his clothes. His form-fitting jeans clung like a second skin to his hips and thighs and probably his ass though she couldn’t see them and could only speculate. He was freshly shaved, with his hair cut to perfection. A light blue button-down shirt fit close to his broad chest and disappeared behind a belt on his pants. She wondered how he’d look naked. Anger flared in her chest for even thinking such a thing. Forcing herself to stay, she watched him saunter toward her booth.
He stopped directly before her and paused as if trying to decide whether he wanted to leave or sit down. He flashed her a tense smile and sat down.
Cortland gave him a weak smile. “Hey. You came.”
He shrugged. “Did you think I wouldn’t? He paused before adding, “I asked you to dinner. Remember?”
She stared at him. “Why do you have to be so prickly?” Fingering her virgin margarita glass, she twirled it around and around.
“Me! What about your tone? Don’t you think you’re being a little combative?”
After spending the day at the spa, she really should be more relaxed. Breaking eye contact with him, she muttered, “Perhaps. If that’s the case, I’m sorry.”
Dawson dipped his chin in acknowledgment, relaxing back into the booth.
The waitress arrived, her pen poised. “What’ll it be?”
Cortland snatched up the menu and skimmed it. The last thing she wanted was to add to her discomfort level with gastric upset.
“Corned beef Reuben only a little sauerkraut, no fries, no dressing, and no pickle.” She quickly added, “and another virgin margarita.” That should be bland enough.
Dawson raised an eyebrow. “Same for me, except I want all the sauerkraut and dressing. I’d like curly fries and add her pickle to my plate. And a Guinness.”
As the waitress walked away, Cortland tapped her index finger on the tabletop. “What is it with you and curly fries?” She sat back in the booth. “And how is it you get to have my pickle?”
“What’s wrong with curly fries?” His eyebrows rose. “As far as the pickle is concerned, I like them. Why not eat yours?”
“Curly fries are thin and limp. I prefer mine thick and firm.”
A slow smile spread over Dawson’s face, one eyebrow raised. “Thick and firm, huh?”
Realizing what she’d said, Cortland’s face went burning hot.
Wiping a hand over his mouth, Dawson struggled to hold back his laughter. “And the pickle, well, you didn’t want it—”
“Maybe I’ve changed my mind. Maybe I want a pickle now.” Honestly, she didn’t understand why she was getting so snippy. Why did I even accept this date? Because he’s just your type: handsome, brawny, and with a glint of flirtation and mischief in his eyes.
Dawson leered at her, still trying to control a grin. “You can have my pickle.” He brushed his hand over his mouth again, trying to hide his mirth.
Oh my God. Cortland squeezed her eyes shut. “Now you’re being suggestive.”
Feigning surprise, Dawson reared back in his seat. “Me? You’re the one who wants a—”
“Never mind.” Feeling her cheeks and ear tips flaming hot, she shook her head gently and stared at the wall. She was feeling too weary for this banter. It might be fun and flirtatious on another night, but she wasn’t feeling it tonight. I should have taken a nap. Or canceled the date entirely.
Their drinks arrived, breaking the silence.
“Tell me about your job. If I recall correctly, Andrew called you Captain.”
Having taken a sip of his stout, his tongue ran over his lips, swiping at the foam left behind.
Cortland’s insides trembled watching his tongue. Thank God I’m sitting down, or I wouldn’t be feigning a swoon.
“I’m a captain at Station Two.” He set the glass down. “But you knew that already.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I guess I did figure out which station you worked out of.”
“To pay me back for my curly fries. If I recall correctly.” He added and grinned broadly again.
“Hmph, well, yes.” Man, it’s getting hot in this little pub. She wanted to remove her lightweight sweater but was afraid of the comment he might make.
He grasped her hand from the tabletop. “I have an idea. Why don’t I get to eat your pickle, and we can call it even.” His lecherous leer returned.
Cortland buried her face in her hands. “Enough with the pickle already,” she said, a note of irritation in her voice.
At that moment, their food arrived; two pickle spears sat on Dawson’s plate. “Deal,” Cortland said before she sipped her drink.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Dawson said before digging into his meal.
She thought a half a minute. “You know I have two of those kittens we rescued. But you probably don’t know about Harris, my dog.”
He tilted his head with what seemed to be interest. “What kind?”
“He’s a rescue, and it’s hard to tell. A little boxer, a little lab, maybe. His time came up at the shelter, and I adopted him. He’s a good boy even if he has a few quirky habits.”
“Like what?”
She finished chewing her last bite. “He has this habit of greeting me at the door when I come home. In itself, it’s nice, but he always has to carry something in his mouth when he’s greeting me: a toy, a bone, or a shoe.” She giggled. “When I first brought the kittens home, he met me at the door with one in his mouth. He was very gentle, didn’t hurt it, but it scratched his nose. Even so, he wouldn’t put it down until I told him to do so.”
Dawson stared at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No! I’m telling you the truth. It’s his weirdest quirky thing.” Cortland took another bite of her sandwich. “Do you have a dog?”
“No. I’d love to have one again. I had one as a kid, a dalmatian, of course. But my work schedule is not optimal for having a dog. It’s one full twenty-four-hour shift on, then two days off. I’d have to find someone to watch the dog while I’m at work.”
“I can understand. I hate that I’m away at work for so much of the day. Luckily, my neighbor also has a dog and the two dogs are best buddies. She watches Harris during the day for me. For a price, but it’s not much. I’m happy to have him.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“What about you? Where did you go to school?” Dawson asked before biting into his Reuben.
“My undergrad degree is from Syracuse University. Then I went to Cornell University Veterinary College. Hannah and I were in the same classes. “
Dawson said, wagging a curly fry at her, “Right, I remember. Andrew told me about that. Weren’t you two roommates or something like that?”
Cortland’s face heated up again at the sight of the limp fry he was flipping around in his fingers. She caught the glint of laughter in his eyes but chose to ignore his provocation. “We, um, had an off-campus apartment with our other friend, Tulsi Anthony. It was great fun. I miss having those two around.” Her sandwich half eaten already, she stretched back in her seat from the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. “What about you? Where did you learn firefighting?”
“I went to the fire academy and trained for some things on the job.”
“What made you become a firefighter?”
Dawson chewed a bite of his sandwich and looked as though he were deciding what to say. “My dad was a firefighter. I guess you could say it’s the family business.”
“That explains the dalmatian,” she quipped with a wide smile. “Did your dad retire?”
“Uh, no.” His tone became abrupt, and he looked away. “He died in the line of duty when I was a kid.”
Frozen in horror at his admission, she could only stutter, “I-I’m so sorry.”
Giving his head a little shake, Dawson replied, “Thanks. It was a long time ago.” He took a long gulp of his beer. “How did you get into veterinary medicine?”
Cortland pushed her plate away, the food only half eaten. “As a kid, I spent most of my summers with my aunt and uncle in Alaska. They had a large working farm with all kinds of animals. I was required to help out, and I loved it. Going there every summer was the best time of my year. Taking care of the animals, getting to know them. It was awesome.” Her eyes felt wide. She hoped he would understand how in love she was with the place. “Except, in the fall, after I left, sometimes they would cull the herd for the winter months.” She frowned slightly, remembering the feeling of hearing who had “left the farm” from Uncle Mayer. “They lived a very self-sufficient life. As much as they could.”
Dawson looked rapt, his eyes glued directly to hers. “Wow. That’s kind of impressive. Why do you think your parents sent you up there?”
Cortland’s insides chilled. “I—” she stopped and started again. “We had a family problem when I was ten. Despite being the first-born, my elder sister was a wild child. Totally unruly. I think my parents thought getting me out of the situation would prevent me from learning her bad attitude.”
Dawson was silent. “Do you still go? To Alaska, I mean.”
“I did every summer for a long time. Sometimes during Christmas and Thanksgiving breaks at school. But not nearly so much when I hit high school. I went for a visit just after graduation from vet school. It was just before Uncle Mayer died. It was terribly sudden, a heart attack right out of the blue. I went to his funeral, of course. I offered to stay with Aunt Faith for a little while. I didn’t have the job here yet, so I had plenty of time. But she said no. She wanted to get used to being alone.”
The waitress suddenly appeared beside the table. “I’ll wrap the leftovers. Can I get you any dessert or coffee?”
“Great. Nothing else for me, thanks.” Cortland said, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice.
“Just the check, please,” Dawson said to the waitress, his eyes still riveted to Cortland. “Hey, let’s talk about something cheerful.” He reached out to take her hand.
She stared at his hand on hers. The sight made her belly quiver wanting more of his touch. At the same time, it made her knees tremble. It was time to end the evening before it progressed to something she wasn’t ready for. Giving her head a quick shake, Cortland cocked it. “I really hate to do this to you. But I’ve had a not-so-great week, I’m on emergencies tonight, and I’m back on duty tomorrow. Would you mind terribly if we call it a night?”
His face closed, and he withdrew his hand. “Not a problem.”
The difference between his words and his body language made it clear he was disappointed she was bailing on him so soon. She kicked herself mentally for not calling Aunt Faith earlier. Having to choose between a long evening with Dawson or settling her fears about her aunt wasn’t difficult. Her aunt’s status was nagging on her conscience strongly. Stronger than any attraction she felt for Dawson tonight.
They rose from the booth and walked outside onto the sidewalk, where they stopped. Cortland looked up into the night sky. It was still dusk. Only a few stars were visible yet. She swayed, suddenly dizzy from looking up.
He grasped her elbow to steady her. “Whoa. Are you okay? What are you looking for?” Dawson followed her eyes upward.
Cortland looked at his hand on her arm as a tingle ran up her arm into her spine. “Stars. Constellations actually. But it’s not dark enough yet.” Cortland brought her eyes back to his face.
“You’re into that kind of stuff?”
“Yeah, have been since I was a kid.” She smiled. “Dinner was nice. Thank you. I’m sorry I’m not—not being very—” she tried to let him know she had a lot of things on her mind. Discussing Aunt Faith had brought up a boiling pit in her gut. She didn’t know what to do about that situation, and with all the bustle at the spa where they frowned on cell phone use, she hadn’t called Alaska to see if everything was okay.
“Look, it’s okay. I enjoyed talking with you.” He waited a few seconds. “I’d like to get to know you better. If you’re interested in doing that.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.” She scuffed the sidewalk with her shoe. “I apologize about tonight. I’ve thought of something important I needed to do today but didn’t.” She shrugged slightly. “I’ll feel better once I do it.”
Dawson’s features showed some sympathy for her predicament. He smiled slowly. “Can I call in a few days?”
“Sure,” Cortland said before planting a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Dawson.” I’ll make it up to him another time.
She itched to dial Aunt Faith’s telephone number all the way home. She was tempted to pull over and call, but the call might be long and emotional. It was best to wait until she got home.
Harris met her at the door with her favorite sneaker in his mouth. “Harris. Give.” The dog immediately obeyed, smiling as though he’d done something special for her. She petted him and kissed his nose. “You’re a good boy, Harris.”
Cortland settled onto the sofa, the kittens playing hide-and-seek together while she dialed. A fumbling of the phone sounded as someone answered. Aunt Faith’s weak, almost feeble voice saying hello.
Sitting on the edge of her seat, Cortland called, “Aunt Faith, is that you?”
“Cortland?”
“Yes. It’s me. Are you all right?” She could hear the tremor in her voice. Trying to rein in the surging feeling of unease, she started pacing the living room. “What’s happened?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
She didn’t sound fine. Cortland had never heard her aunt sound so feeble. And it wasn’t a bad connection. “What’s nothing? Are you hurt?”
Aunt Faith sighed, “I was trying to wrestle Billygoat into the barn for the night, and he kicked me in the side of my leg. Don’t worry, I’ve been to the hospital. My fibula is broken. They put my leg in a cast. It’s going to be fine. It just needs time to mend.”
“How are you getting along with the farm? Should I come?” She stood in front of her calendar, eyeing her work schedule.
“Wally, from down the street, is taking care of the critters, and his wife is helping me with food and laundry. If you can come, I’d like that, but it’s not necessary dear heart.”
“I want to make sure you’re okay. Broken bones take longer to heal in the elderly.”
“That’s what the doctor said. But my fracture isn’t too extensive. I just have to be patient for a couple of weeks or so.”
As her mind swiftly sifted through what she knew of long bone fractures in animals, she conceded, “It’s not a weight-bearing bone in the lower leg, but it supports a lot of muscles, tendons, and ligaments, so it’s important in ankle stability. Still, keeping it immobile isn’t going to be easy for you, is it?” Cortland knew her aunt well enough to know she would push herself to get back on her feet again as quickly as possible.
A heavy sigh threaded through the cell phone to her ear. “That’s true. You know me. Not much can keep me down.” The line was silent for a few seconds before she called, “Cortland? Honey? I hate to ask, but maybe you should come for a short visit? There are some things I need to talk to you about.”
Walking back to the calendar, she said, “I have a free weekend coming up next weekend. Will that do? Do you need me there faster than that?”
Aunt Faith groaned, “Heaven’s no, that should be fine. Hopefully, I’ll be in better shape by then.”
“I’ll call you with my travel plans.” She hung up the phone, the anxiety of the situation making her sick to her stomach.
***
Stupidly, he’d failed to get her phone number. If he wanted to reach her, and he did want to reach out to her, he’d have to call the vet clinic answering service. Even though she had mentioned she was on-call that night, the last thing he wanted to do was phone her through work.
Calling an hour after they had left each other on the sidewalk outside The Irish Harp might give her the wrong impression, and he recognized she wasn’t having a good night. She needed some space, and he should probably leave her alone, but the sadness in her eyes when she discussed her family haunted him.
He shoved his phone into his back pocket and turned off the television. It was dark outside, and he could clearly see a bunch of stars in the sky through the window. Funny how she’s been into stars and such since she was a kid. He didn’t know what to make of that. Most kids don’t even look up. Not kids today, anyway.
Collapsing on the worn couch, he lay on his stomach, his head buried in the throw pillow that came with the sofa. Replaying the night, his eyes closed with a groan. He hadn’t been in his best form either. He’d been tired and anxious, having worked a partial shift for Captain Enrico earlier that day. Leaving later than he wanted due to paperwork, he’d arrived later than he intended. He wanted to impress her but came off feeling like an ass. His tongue tied up until all he could do was blurt out suggestive comments about their food.
He chuckled softly at the innuendos they’d bantered about the curly fries and pickle. Cortland’s face, bright pink cheeks, her eyes flaring, perhaps with anger, perhaps with embarrassment. She looked different than last he’d seen her at the vet clinic: with her hair loose and soft around her made-up face. At several points, the deep cleavage of her pale pink blouse had dipped, revealing the pink lacy edge of her bra, especially when she leaned forward to sip her drink. Just thinking about it, that erotic glimpse made his pickle stir. He pressed into the couch cushion, attempting to stifle its response.
As good as she looked, he sensed she was uncomfortable. All during dinner, she tugged and poked at her blouse, frowning often while doing so. She was most definitely intriguing in more ways than one. Enough for him to want to get to know her better, more personally, more intimately. He wanted a second chance.
The reason for her being sent to Alaska was boggling. A family situation big enough to want to send your kid four thousand miles away for several months? Try as he might, he couldn’t guess what it could have been. Was there an illness so devastating that they didn’t want their daughter around to see it? Or was she starting to act up, perhaps copying her elder sister’s antics? Maybe the trip to Alaska was meant to break her bad habits? Andrew might know. He’d have to ask next time the opportunity arose.
Her reaction to his confession about his father had been a surprise. He hadn’t expected her to be so empathetic about his fatherless upbringing. Thinking about it, he wondered if she, too knew loss. The expression on her face was of pain, horror, and something else he couldn’t define. Making a mental note to talk with Andrew again, he rose from the couch and stumbled off to bed, where he found the kittens lying nose to nose across the center of the bed.
Raising his eyes to heaven and shaking his head, he returned to the couch, kicked off his shoes, and buried his head in the pillow again.