“Guess.”
“I have another appointment in a few minutes. I don’t have time to play guessing games.” I don’t have anyone for another twenty, but I’m not in the mood for this.
“Oh, come on! Why are you so grumpy? You’re ruining all my fun.”
“Fine. Is it that guy who won’t takes his socks off?” I know it’s not him. He only sees Marcie.
April throws her hands in the air. “It’s Lance! You know, the professional hockey player whose ass you had your hands all over last week? The one who asked for your number so you could be his emergency massage therapist?”
“April!” I throw a pillow at her. “Keep your voice down!” While it’s not against policy, I don’t want the whole clinic to know about that.
“That’s the reaction I get? Lance Romero, this famous, incredibly hot hockey player keeps calling to check for cancellations, and you’re worried about my volume? Where are your priorities? Are you sure he doesn’t remember you?”
“As far as I know. Wait. What do you mean he keeps calling?”
“He called yesterday and left messages, and he’s already called twice this morning.”
“It’s only nine.”
“Yeah. He left a message at, like, seven thirty.”
“You’re kidding.” I squeeze past April and root through my purse until I find my phone. I have missed texts and a voicemail from Lance.
Now it feels like Leprechauns are dancing in my stomach.
“Oh my God. He’s texting you? And he left a voicemail? You have to check them! You need to listen to it!”
I hold my phone close to my chest. “You need to calm down.”
“You need to be more excited!”
I roll my eyes but check my messages. I missed quite a lot sleeping through my alarm and being without coffee this morning.
“Oh my God!” April rips the phone from my hand. “Did you read this? He needs you. Can’t you hear him saying that in his sexy Irish accent?”
“He’s Scottish.”
“Scottish, Irish, whatever—it’s sexy as hell. You need to find a way to fit him in.”
I’d like to fit him in all right.
She pushes me toward the door.
“What’re you doing?”
“You need to talk to Bernadette before your next appointment so you can call him back and tell him he can come in.”
“He’s getting on a plane; it can wait.”
“Are you crazy? You don’t make guys like Lance Romero wait.”
“I’m sure it’s a skill he could probably use a little help with,” I gripe. “And can we stop calling him by his first and last name? It’s a little weird.” But I stop fighting and let her push me. I’m curious to see what exactly Bernadette has to say about this and whether April is blowing it out of proportion.
As soon as Bernadette sees me, her eyes light up. “You’ll never believe who’s trying to get an appointment with you this week, and who’s booked appointments for the next two months.”
“Lance?”
Her face falls, and she shoots April a dirty look.
April lifts a shoulder. “I got excited.”
“How many appointments has he booked?” I ask.
“Twelve.”
“Pardon?”
“He’s booked twelve appointments. And he took a cancellation for next week, but he says he really needs to see you this week. I tried to explain that you don’t have any openings, but he didn’t sound very happy about it. That accent is so sexy. Where’s he from again? Australia?” Bernadette sighs.
“Scotland,” I reply. “Can I see the appointments?”
She turns her computer monitor toward me and flips through them. He has two appointments a week for seven weeks, starting the week after next since I’m already booked up until then.
I pull up my appointments for tomorrow on my phone. All I have are two half-hour breaks, one at eleven and one at three thirty. The clinic closes at eight on Tuesdays, but since I already have six appointments, Bernadette won’t schedule me another one, no matter how much time I have at the end of my day. As I’m contemplating whether it’s a good idea to give in to Lance, my phone rings.
“It’s him!” April shrieks.
I glare at her.
Bernadette’s hands flutter. “Oh! You should answer! He’s been very persistent. He only wants you.”
I wish people would stop saying things like that. “You both need to stop fangirling.” I wait until they stop twittering like birds before I answer. “Hello?”
“Poppy?”
“You’re speaking to her.”
“Thank fuck.” He mumbles something, maybe to someone on the other end of the line. “Sorry about that—the swearing, I mean. I’m boarding the plane back to Chicago. Listen, I know you said no more home treatments, but I really need to see you, and your appointment warden won’t book me in for anything in the next day or two. Can you help me out? Please.”
Why do I have no resolve? “What time does your flight get in?”
“Uh, like, before noon, I think? Maybe a little later? And we have a team meeting as soon as we get back, but I’m totally free after that. I’ll take anything right about now. I got into a scuffle on the ice last night, and it undid all the good you did last time.”
Oh my God. The word scuffle coming out of his mouth does funny things to me. “I saw that.”
“You did?”
I cringe at his surprise, and the fact that I’ve outted myself as a hockey watcher. Like this man needs his ego fed any more. “Mmm. Let me check my schedule this afternoon.”
Bernadette shakes her head and motions to the screen. I came in early today so I could get out early. My last appointment is at six thirty and it’s only forty-five minutes. Technically I can fit Lance in, although that’s going to put me up to seven sessions today. And I’ll miss yoga. Although our new instructor isn’t nearly as good as the girl who’d been teaching the class since early spring, so I’m really not missing all that much, apart from exercise.
I point to the computer screen and give Bernadette a questioning look. She shrugs, and April makes flailing hand gestures. “I can take you at seven fifteen.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“At your house, or the clinic?”
“At the clinic. We close at eight, though, so it can only be forty-five minutes.” I want Bernadette to be here when he leaves, just to be safe. Lord knows I’m stupid around this man.
“Okay. That works. Yer a precious angel. I really owe ya, Poppy.” His voice becomes muffled. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m hanging up. No, ya does nae hafta do that.” His voice becomes clear again, the Scot thicker with his agitation. “I gotta go or they’re gonna kick me off the plane. I’ll see you tonight, Poppy. Thanks again.”
I listen to dead air, still processing the precious angel comment, before I finally hang up.
Bernadette and April are squeal-flapping.
“You’re worse than teenage girls at a boy band concert. You can’t act like that when he’s here.”
April huffs. “This one starts treating famous hockey players, and she’s suddenly Ms. Serious.”
“It’s one hockey player, and he’s asking me to treat him, not marry him.”
“Yet,” April says.
“I have another client, so I need to get ready.” I leave the two of them to go set up, trying not to squeal-flap myself.
The rest of the day moves in an anxious blur. I don’t want to fixate on Lance, but really, I have a lot of time to think about him and the fact that he’s scheduled all these appointments and insisted on seeing me today. I also try not to think about what it means that I’ve given up my evening plans so I can treat him. I’d like to say it’s because I’m nice, but I’m not so nice that I’d give up my evening for just any client.