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Remington: I guess I’ll get the details from you later. But either way, I’ll bring the nails.
Sighing again, I tossed my phone onto my desk and leaned back in my chair to stare at the ceiling. Goat yoga and revenge hacking. Just a normal day in the life of a small-town doctor.
* * *
Lachlan: Hey cutie. Sorry it’s been crazy. Strep is going around.
Laurel: You’re okay! At least at the hospital your mouth will be safe from my chili.
Lachlan: My mouth says it wants your chili.
Laurel: Careful what you ask for.
Lachlan: It’s a risk I’m willing to take. Are you free tomorrow? Can you get a sitter for Calla?
Laurel: I’ll ask my mom.
I blinked at the screen in the early morning light and squinted against the glare. Laurel hadn’t texted me back after that last one from the day before, but either way, I was determined to see her today. There was no rational reason for missing someone I’d only met a week before, but there it was. I was starving for Laurel. If I didn’t get to eat her, I’d probably go crazy.
Fortunately, she texted me back as I was brushing my teeth.
Laurel: Sorry, I meant to tell you yes. I got distracted.
I smiled to myself as I texted her back.
Lachlan: That doesn’t sound like you at all.
Laurel: :p
Lachlan: I’ll pick you up around noon. Dress for physical activity. ;)
Laurel: That is either very exciting or very not.
I left her wondering because I liked nervous Laurel. Nervous Laurel did things with her mouth that fascinated me.
I took my time working out because I’d rushed every session this week for Laurel reasons and work reasons, and then as I showered, I plotted like an evil mastermind. I had to find a way to handle our angry hacker problem.
It was Jason, there was no doubt about that. I’d gotten an email last night about my research, too. The little prick was unearthing all kinds of things he thought Remington and I wouldn’t want broadcasted to the world. But after a quick chat with my brother about our options, we had formulated a decent plan. The real question was, should I tell Laurel?
I dressed in a lightweight, athletic hoodie and joggers before padding out to my kitchen and opening my laptop. Remington had already taken some time out of his barfy vacation to send me the preliminary details for our cyber trap, and I perused them while I threw things in a blender for my breakfast. They looked good. Really good. Even a tech dick in Norway wouldn’t tell the difference between this and something real, I was pretty sure.
And, I realized, I would have to let Laurel in on it. There was no way around it. If I didn’t tell her the truth, then she’d never trust me going forward. It might make her feel guilty because she was way too nice, but that was something she needed to get over. We aren’t nice to assholes—even if the asshole is the father of your kid and supposedly holds the strings to your happiness in his greasy, fat palms.
Yes, I’d looked him up. He definitely had greasy, fat palms.
Laurel texted me while I was prepping for our dinner.
Laurel: How active? Are we talking light stroll or hot guy fitness here?
Lachlan: Make sure you can bend over.
Laurel: Not nice. You’re setting me up for disappointment.
I snorted. There was no chance of my disappointing Laurel tonight. In fact, I fully planned on getting her hooked on me at least half as much as I was hooked on her.
With dinner prepped and yoga mats in hand, I threw everything in the back seat of my pickup truck and headed back down the mountain into town. I texted Laurel at the end of the driveway to let her know I was on my way.
When I pulled up to her apartment complex, she was already outside in the frigid March weather, her arms crossed over a thin hoodie that matched the neon yellow and black athleticwear outfit she’d dressed her curvy body in. Her hips flared out and back into her waist in a way that made me feel primal inside. I wanted to run my hands up and down that hourglass shape of hers.
