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What's Left of Me

Page 22

   


“Looking for me?” His deep voice rumbles through me.
Peeling myself off him, I try to pretend I did not just grunt in front of him. Embarrassed, I try to play the situation off like nothing happened. “No, I was making my way to Jason’s office.”
“And, you thought you could get there by going through mine?”
“No. I was ju—”
“Looking for me.” He says it as a statement.
“No.”
“Uh, huh.”
“I wasn’t.”
“So I heard.” He just smirks at me.
I throw my hands in the air. “Fine! I was looking to see if you were here. Happy?”
“Very. And what may I help you with this beautiful afternoon?” There’s a smile in his voice, but his face turns all business before he continues in a serious manner. “Because if you’re looking to kiss me again then I’ll need to remember to keep breath mints on me for these chance encounters.”
I blush, which causes him to go into a full-fledged toothy smile. “Ugh, I wasn’t coming in here to kiss you!” Not that I would mind kissing you.
“If that’s what makes you sleep better at night, you go right ahead and keep telling yourself that.”
“I don’t want to kiss you, Parker.” I hope I sounded convincing. I so badly want to smile at him. I know he can’t see the canker sores in my mouth, but I’m still aware of their presence.
His mouth drops open, and his hand goes to his chest in a defensive manner.
“Oh, don’t act like I just wounded you,” I say as I push past him slowly and make my way into Jason’s office. Once I’m there, I start to pant, trying to catch my breath. That short distance just felt like a marathon, but I don’t let that stop the smile that so badly wants to come out.
“I would have made it worth your while!” he calls down the hallway, which causes my smile to grow bigger.
Jason is in the process of converting the practice to electronic records. I didn’t realize all the formalities a vet clinic takes in ensuring the privacy of its animal patients. I have to sign privacy forms indicating I won’t share or copy any of the information I’m seeing after I finish the proper paperwork to make me an official employee.
Shannon is extremely helpful, answering all my questions and showing me what needs to be scanned and where. After two hours, I’m ten charts in and finally getting the flow. Apparently, ten charts in two hours aren’t a lot, considering Shannon has done triple that amount. While I’m slowly working away, a light knock comes from the office door. I figure it is Shannon coming in again, so I don’t take my eyes off the computer screen or my hand off the mouse that is clicking away.
“That doesn’t look like scanning to me.”
I jump at the sound of the voice coming from over my shoulder. “Parker! You scared the shit out of me!”
He lets out a small laugh, making his way to the opposite side of the desk. I watch as he takes a seat, leaning back and putting his feet on the desk, making himself at home.
“I didn’t picture you as a hockey fan.”
“Excuse me?”
He points at the computer. “The Minnesota Wild website.”
“Oh, um, yeah, I’m a fan.” Why do I always sound incoherent around him? I can’t seem to think or speak clearly. And, to make matters worse, I blush easily. It’s as if I’m constantly on fire around him.
“Me too.”
“Really? I begged my parents to let me play when I was younger, but I couldn’t skate for the life of me, so I did the next best thing and became a fan.” I don’t know why I tell him that, but I can tell by the way he is smiling at me, that he wants to add to the conversation. It’s not one of his sexy I-want-you smiles, but the smile of a little boy who is excited about a new toy.
“I played all through middle and high school. Then, when I got to college, I did private league stuff around my schedule. I’m a Tampa Bay Lightning fan myself.”
“You just said you were a fan.”
“Yeah, of hockey. Not the Wild; Tampa.”
“What! Tampa? Come on.”
He sits up now, taking his feet off the desk. “Seriously. You’re going to give me crap about being a Tampa fan? At least we won a Stanley Cup. You can’t say that of your sweet Minnesota Wild.” His eyes challenge me for a response.
“Yeah, that may be true.”
“May be true? It is true, honey.”
“Okay, that is true, However, Lightning has had a lot more years to develop a team. Wild has only been around for, like, twelve years or so. Tampa has maybe ten years on them!”
“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Twelve years is plenty of time to develop a team.”
What is up with calling me honey and sweetheart?
“No. You need good general managers to make a team stronger each year. It’s their job to find players that contribute to the team. To build the team up. With the Lightning being around much longer, I would expect them to have had the time to develop a strong team. But mark my words, the Wild will rank higher this year in our conference for playoffs then your Tampa in their conference.”
“Oh, baby. Something to know about me is that I love a good challenge and I never back down from a bet. I don’t lose. Ever.”
There is another one of those words: baby.
“It’s on.” I feel as if there is more behind our words than just the bet on hockey. His eyes are dancing with mine and his stupid grin is back. I know he’s thinking the same thing.