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As I get out of my car, Ben pulls into the parking lot. He catches my eye, and a frown immediately lines his face.
Lovely.
Off to a fantastic start this morning. Instead of acknowledging it, I walk inside to start the day. We’re on call to handle a German shepherd momma about to have her puppies. They could come any day now, so we’ve been working to keep our schedule open. We don’t want to put anyone in a bind if we end up having to cancel the appointments to help the momma with labor.
Michelle is already here, so after I store my stuff in the break room, I find her in the back, going through supplies. She’s wearing cat scrubs that have hearts in their eyes.
“Apparently, it’s funky scrub day,” I joke.
She turns, taking in my scrubs. The poodles have speech bubbles over their heads saying,“Oy, Vey!”. “Indeed, it is. Bets on how pissy Dr. McHottie will be today?”
I lightly tap Michelle’s arm in admonishment. “Don’t call him that, and by the frown I got when he pulled into the parking lot, I’ll let you slap me in the face if he’s whistling a tune this morning.”
The gleam in Michelle’s eyes tells me she’d be willing to take that bet. Two seconds later, the front door chimes, indicating Ben’s entrance. As he walks through the clinic toward the office, he pauses, taking in mine and Michelle’s scrubs.
He squints, then rolls his eyes mumbling, “What the fuck’s wrong with normal scrubs?”
The minute the door to the office is closed, Michelle and I burst out laughing. “I told you he’d be pissy,” I say through my giggles.
“What’s wrong with our scrubs? I thought they were fun.”
“Oscar the Grouch doesn’t do fun. That’s the problem.” I head back to the front of the clinic with Michelle’s laughter flowing behind me. At least I have her to make the days a little less hostile.
* * *
The beepingof the microwave pulls me from my daydreams. Now that the weather is warm, I need to take Luna and Koda to the dog park. I’ve got a decent fenced-in backyard at my house, but sometimes, they enjoy having a little more freedom to run and play.
As I sit down to eat, Ben walks into the break room, his lunch box in hand.Please let him take his lunch somewhere else.
He’s stayed tucked inside his office for most of the day since we haven’t had many appointments. It’s been a nice reprieve, not having his doom cloud hanging over the whole clinic.
I track his movements as he gathers his lunch together until he sits down at the table across from me. His wavy blond hair is pushed back off his forehead today, matching the white button-down shirt and gray slacks. He looks very city slicker. And annoyingly sexy.
I hate how everything about him appeals to me. I shouldn’t enjoy his surly attitude or his moody stares. Even his frown lines do stupid things to me. They make me want to do whatever it takes to make a smile crack across his face. Which is irritating because all he’s been to me is an asshole. He doesn’t deserve for me to make him smile.
“Did you need something?” Ben’s voice whips across the table, making me realize how long I’ve been staring at him. Shit.
“No, sorry. I was daydreaming. Didn’t mean to stare.”
He nods his head, returning to his lunch. I want to ask him what his deal is, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he’d rather be back in Greensboro than here. Should I try to make small talk? I don’t want him to bite my head off no matter how uncomfortable the silence is between us.
“How’s Dr. Charles feeling now that he’s getting to rest a little more?” There, a safe topic that hopefully won’t be triggering.
“He’s better. Mom’s been making him eat a lot of fish.”
I grimace. “I’m sure he’s none too pleased. I know he loves a good steak.”
Ben’s lips quirk up in a smirk, completely disarming me. “He does, but he also knows he won’t ever win an argument with Sybil Crawford.” He’s beautiful when he’s not scowling. Although, he’s pretty hot when he is.
“She’s a force to be reckoned with for sure.”
We both lapse into silence again, only this time, it’s a little less tense. Maybe we can make headway on un-grumping this grump.
Michelle strides into the room to grab her lunch. She quirks an eyebrow at me, flicking her eyes toward Ben, silently asking what’s going on. I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know any more than she does despite sitting across from him. She leaves when her lunch is ready. Not that I blame her for wanting to leave the slightly thawed tundra that is our break room right now.
When we’re finished eating, Susan comes striding into the room to tell us the German shepherd momma is in labor. “Gina said she’s worried the momma is in some distress, so she called to see if you guys could go over and help.”
“Sure. Let me grab my kit,” Ben says, striding from the room. I finish cleaning both mine and his lunch, then put our lunch boxes away.
