“He left Cami about a month before I was moving, and that’s when Rachelle came clean and told me she had been seeing him.
“At first, I was pissed about being lied to, cheated on. Then I was frustrated because I felt like a fool, having been friends with Brad and introducing them. Then I realized, if she really loved him, and he really loved her, it was best for Cami and me that they came clean before they got caught—or worse. Cami and Brad were already married.”
“You weren’t engaged?” she asked. “I mean, moving to the middle of nowhere with a guy is a big step.”
“We weren’t. Yet.”
I took a deep breath, ran my hands over my head, and reminded myself that I’d dodged a bullet. I didn’t want a woman who didn’t want me. I didn’t want someone I couldn’t trust. I didn’t want to be someone she’d resent later if she hated it there. And, in hindsight, she would have.
“Oh,” she said quietly. “You were going to?”
“Yeah, I planned on packing the ring in one of her boxes, the box you saw me with on Sunday, and then let her find it when we were moving in. She probably would have hated it. Not dramatic enough.” I hadn’t told anyone that. “But things didn’t work out anyway.”
“Well, for the record, it was a really sweet idea, but I think guys over think it. If you want my two cents, it shouldn’t be have to be staged or planned out so much.” She kicked my leg gently, pulling me out of my daze. Honestly, she was right.
The fire was starting to get low, so I got up to add a few more pieces of wood.
“Okay, now tell me something,” I said. And this little thing had been on my mind a lot. “Mutt?”
She shook her head, and I couldn’t be sure because it was dark, but I think she blushed. Her leg began to bounce slightly as I chucked logs into the pit.
“What?” she asked.
“Why? What’s with the nickname?” I knew she wasn’t embarrassed about the name. I’d heard everyone call her that. In fact, I didn’t even know what her real name was. Her damn file, in the small town dentist’s office, even said Mutt O’Fallon.
Of course, things were a little different than they were in the city. The files were all accurate, but not necessarily done in the most efficient way. I could change all of that, little by little, as needed when I took over. At the moment, I was focused on getting to know the patients, learning how things ran. Then I’d focus on improvements.
At that moment, what needed improvement most was my understanding of why the whole town called this gorgeous woman Mutt.
“I don’t think my grandpa thought it would stick like it did, to tell you the truth. I think he was just calling me that to dig at my mom, who then left my dad and me. I was a kid and didn’t know what a mutt was at first. I remember him saying, ‘You’re the sweetest Mutt I know.’ I don’t think he was trying to be mean to me. Then everyone else started calling me Mutt, and the meaning of it kind of wore off. I don’t think anyone even thinks about it anymore. It’s just my name.”
I didn’t like it. It wasn’t a thoughtful or flattering nickname; it was cruel, even if it wasn’t meant to be. I had to respect the way she dealt with it, though. Even if her grandfather hadn’t meant for it to be mean, I thought it was sad. Here she’d been abandoned by her mother and then everyone called her a dog.
Admittedly, I hated it.
I’d never call her that.
“What’s your real name?”
O’Fallon looked at me like I was nuts, like she didn’t want to tell me. She sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at me defiantly.
“Tell me,” I urged, then nudged her leg.
“No.”
“Want me to guess?”
She rolled her eyes and then opened the cooler to get another beer, silently offering it to me first. I took it and she retrieved another for herself.
“You can try, but I doubt you’ll guess.”
“Will you tell me if I’m right?” I’d be able to tell by her face, I thought. She didn’t seem like a very good liar. Then again, I was just getting to know her. I didn’t even know her real name. Yet.
“Suzanne?”
She laughed. I committed the sound to memory as it echoed off the nearby water.
“Do I look like a Suzie?” Then she laughed some more but leaned in, enjoying the game.
“No. I’m just warming up. Samantha?” I asked and leaned in a little myself.
“No.”
“Vivian?”
She shook her head, forehead scrunched.
“Natalie? Ashley? Danielle?”
“No. No. No.” Each no punctuated with a flip of her wrist and her finger checking them off.
I stretched my legs out in front of me, and admitted, “This might take a while.”
“That’s okay. I’ve nothing better going on. Besides you look cute when you guess.”
“Cute?”
“Yeah, after you say a name your face does this I’m waiting thing, like you actually might be right. You’re nowhere close, though.”
“Men don’t like to be called cute, O’Fallon.”
“Oh, sorry. What do you prefer? Handsome?”
“Do you think I’m handsome?”
She shrugged noncommittally.
“Come on. You think I’m handsome. That’s fine. I’ll keep guessing. Lydia?”
She giggled, actually giggled. “No.”