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I spin to her, pressing a hand to my racing heart. “No, I’m just…talking to myself. How was the photo shoot?”
“So good.” Starling grins, the dimple in her right cheek popping. My baby sister has always been a cutie, but in the past few years she’s grown into her prominent cheekbones and wide shoulders and looks more like a supermodel than a small-town bank teller.
No doubt the men of Bad Dog are going to make pursuing her this summer’s hottest competitive sport.
It’s another reason she should have the master. I can’t imagine Starling going long without a significant other, even with the lingering heartache of breaking up with her college boyfriend still bringing her down.
“The dogs were chaotic, but Kyle was so good. He posed and preened and totally stole the show. We got so many great candids of the staff and volunteers, too,” she says, wandering into the room and glancing inside the closet. “Is this going to be enough space for you? I can give you half my closet if you want. I don’t mind.”
“No, it’s fine,” I assure her, tossing the last of my throw pillows on the bed. “That’s all of my stuff. I’m finished and ready for supper.”
She beams. “Good. Come have a glass of wine with me while I cook. I need to hear all about Thailand and the clinic you volunteered at. And why you didn’t tell me that you and Dr. McGuire were doing the nasty, and that’s why you ran away without telling anyone you were leaving until you were halfway to the airport.”
My jaw dropping, I stutter, “Wh-what? Who told you that?”
“No one told me. I could tell by the way you two were penetrating each other with your eyes at the park.”
I start to protest that we were doing no such thing, but Starling cuts me off.
“It’s fine,” she continues. “I’m not mad that you ran or that you didn’t tell me why. After all, if you hadn’t asked me to come check on your house every few days, I wouldn’t have met Kyle or realized he didn’t know how to survive in the wild after eating toxic mold for so long. He might have died, and I never would have formed this amazing bond or experienced the joy of being kicked out of my dorm room five days before graduation for getting caught with a turkey in my bed. I’m a legend on campus now. My weird story will never die.” She pauses, crossing her arms as she leans back against the wall by the door. “But I would love to know why you didn’t take Christian up on his offer to back down and go to the ball with Dr. McGuire instead. You’ve had a thing for him forever. I’m confused.”
“I’m confused why Christian is Christian, but Barrett is Dr. McGuire.”
“Dr. McGuire is old,” Starling supplies with a shrug. “Christian isn’t.”
I huff. “He’s only thirty-five. That’s not old.”
“It is when you’re twenty-two,” Starling says. “And it’s about respect, too. I respect Dr. McGuire. Christian, not so much…”
“Why?” I ask. “He’s a nice guy.”
She rolls her eyes. “And I’m Dr. Dolittle.”
“You do have a way with animals,” I say. “Any news on the fundraising position going full-time?”
Starling shakes her head with a sigh. “No, the Furry Friends board isn’t meeting for a few weeks. They’ll vote on it then. I have all my fingers and toes crossed. I’m so grateful to Mr. Simmons for giving me a job straight out of school, but I’m so bored at the bank. My brain needs more stimulation and time in problem solving mode.” Her eyes narrow. “My brain is also really great at returning to the topic at hand when people try to distract me. So why go to the ball with Christian instead of Dr. McGuire? Was the sex that bad?”
I brush past her with a shake of my head. “I’m not discussing that. You know I don’t kiss and tell.”
I’m also not about to tell my baby sister that Barrett is a wizard in the bedroom, or that I still blush every time I walk past the place in the hall where he made me come three times in rapid succession.
“You don’t have to discuss it,” she says, following me down the hall toward the kitchen. “Actions speak louder than words. You literally ran halfway across the world to get away from Dr. McGuire’s penis.” She makes a soft gagging sound. “Ew, that feels so wrong. I don’t want to think about Dr. McGuire’s penis. He’s like my uncle or something.”
“Should I start snapping the peas?” I ask, reaching for the fridge handle.
Starling puts her hand on the door, holding it closed. “No, you should answer your sister, who wants you to be happy. You clearly still have feelings for Dr. McGuire, right? And he seems to like you, too. So, what gives?”
