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Heh. The tequila. Bailey had no idea that her gift had actually been the match that set my previously predictable life on fire. “I don’t have any left.”
“Wait, what?” Bailey swiveled in her chair, her streaked blond hair whipping behind her as she whirled to face me. “Dude, there’s no way you drank all of that already.”
“I didn’t. I shared it.”
Bailey huffed. “So you finally decide to let loose, and you didn’t invite me to the party? Lame.”
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed a hand over my forehead, Bailey’s accusatory tone blending with the sound of barking dogs in the kennels in the back. “It wasn’t a party. Just a . . . date.”
“Shut. The. Eff. Up.” Bailey’s chair squeaked, and without looking I knew she’d pitched forward—on the prowl. “You had a date and didn’t tell me? Oh my God, that’s why you’ve been so all over the place for the last couple of weeks. You met a guy!”
I could hear the squee in her voice and had no doubt she was about to morph into some cheerleader version of herself. If I didn’t head it off at the pass, it was going to quickly disintegrate into hand grabbing and bouncing with glee as she begged for details. Bailey was only two years younger than me and was the closest thing to a best friend I’d found since moving here, but sometimes her enthusiasm made me want to duck and cover. I held my hands out. “Calm it down, chica. Met is the operative word here. Past tense.”
Her bright smile instantly dimmed. “Oh, no. What ha—”
But before Bailey could play Oprah to my Gayle, Dr. Pelham strode in from the back, already rambling off information she needed Bailey to pull up on the computer. Bailey spun around, instantly tapping away at the keyboard, her game face on. I smiled a greeting at our boss as she stepped behind us to the wall of file cabinets, and went back to finishing the intake form I was supposed to be doing.
“I have a surgery scheduled first thing tomorrow morning for that Yorkie that came in on Monday,” Dr. Pelham said in my direction as she flipped through the folders in the file cabinet nearest me. “Poor thing’s got a pretty aggressive tumor, but I think we may have caught it early enough. I’m going to use the new laser. You should assist.”
I looked up from my mess of an intake form
, my heart doing a little leap and spin. “Really? That’d be great. I haven’t seen this new equipment in action yet.”
Dr. Pelham smiled, pushing her reading glasses onto her head, making her salt-and-pepper bangs stick up every which way. “Yes, Doctor Medina. I’m hoping if I tempt you with our fancy new gadgets, you won’t leave us at the end of the month. Have you given my offer any more thought?”
I pressed my lips together, the offer tempting me to no end every time she brought it up. The clinic couldn’t pay as much as I’d make in my dad’s practice, but since it was funded by the university it meant the vets had access to the latest technology and experimental treatments. And Dr. Pelham knew more about veterinary oncology than anyone in the state. Working under her would give me experience I couldn’t get anywhere else. But I didn’t need to specialize in oncology. When I’d mentioned it to my father, he’d dismissed it with a sniff.
You don’t need to waste time specializing, Marcela, he’d said with that exasperated tone. I need a Jill-of-all-trades for the clinic. You’ll learn what you need to know down here.
I tried not to let my face belie how torn I was. I knew I couldn’t accept the position. My father was counting on my picking up the slack in his practice. But anytime Dr. Pelham brought up the job, I couldn’t bring myself to give a firm no. “I’m giving everything a lot of thought.”
Her smile climbed up to her eyes. “Fantastic. I’m interviewing a few candidates next week, though, so think quickly.”
“I will, thank you. I promise I’ll let you know by then,” I said, misery making my stomach burn. Why was everything that seemed so simple a few weeks ago starting to feel like a maze filled with ticking grenades and no right decisions?
I waited until Dr. Pelham disappeared back into the clinic before I groaned and lowered my head to tap it against the desk. “I’m having a midlife crisis.”
“I think it’s called a quarter-life crisis,” Bailey offered brightly, still tapping away at her computer.
“Yes. That. Maybe I do need more tequila.”
“Be careful what you wish for, doc.”
My head snapped up so fast I almost flipped backward in the well-oiled office chair. I grabbed for the edge of the desk with a curse.
Amused green-gold eyes stared down at me. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
I put my hand to my chest, his sudden appearance sending my heartbeat into staccato mode. “Pike? What are you doing here?”
“Well, the sign does say open to the public,” he said with a good-natured smirk.
“Right.” Seeing Pike standing in the waiting area of my job had my worlds banging together—the crazy mixing with the mundane. It seemed a dangerous mix, like coming face-to-face with yourself in time travel. That shit never ended well.
In my peripheral vision, I could see Bailey turning forward to see our new guest. Pike seemed to notice her for the first time and sent her a tip of an imaginary hat before turning back to me. “So, I’m here because I’m thinking you were right.”
“I was right?” I shook my head, trying to clear it. “About . . .”
He grinned. “That I should get a dog.”
