She rolls her eyes and keeps dragging me after her, which is no simple feat considering the footwear she’s decided on tonight. Her whole outfit is spot on and trendy: a simple red dress with nude pumps. Her blonde hair is loosely braided down her back, probably left over from work, and her makeup is just enough to make her already beautiful features stand out even more. I now regret changing into jeans, even if I did put on the pair that makes my ass look, in Daisy’s words, “killer”.
“Should I change into something of yours?” I ask as we pass through the foyer. “You’re a lot fancier than I am.”
She turns and gives me a onceover, breaking out in a slow smile. “No, you look hot. That shirt is just tight enough to show off your figure without being indecent, and I like when you wear your hair down like that. It drives guys insane.”
I shrug, remembering the zero new matches waiting for me on my dating apps. I guess I’ll have to take her word for it.
We pause in the kitchen for wine, and I can see most of their guests clustered out back on their wraparound porch. Surprisingly, it’s a nice evening in Texas—not too hot, and the mosquitos have yet to invade for the summer. Everyone is sipping wine or beer and sort of hovering around in clusters. As far as parties go, this is extremely tame.
“No beer pong? No kegs?” I ask as Daisy pours me a glass of chilled white wine, my favorite.
She levels me with a glare. “Your brother wanted a low-key housewarming party.”
“Yeah, about that—is it still considered a housewarming party if you guys have already lived here for six months?”
She shrugs as she finishes pouring herself a glass. “It’s taken us that long just to furnish the place, so yes, it counts.”
I nod and take in my surroundings. Their house is beautiful, one of the older Victorian-style houses that line the streets of downtown Hamilton. It was recently restored, but the original wood floors were left intact. Their dark stain juxtaposed with the white marble countertops and modern light fixtures make the home feel updated and fresh. In short, I’d cut off my right arm to own a house like this.
Honestly, I can’t believe it’s been six months since I sold it to them. I cringe thinking of how little of that commission check is left. I used a large chunk of it to pay off the last of my student loans, and I put some of it in savings. The rest might as well have floated away like sand for all the good it did me. A couple months of rent and I’m right back where I started: in desperate need of a new client, one who isn’t Mr. Boggs.
“Ready to head outside?” Daisy asks me, her tone a little gentler than usual. She can probably sense I’ve had a hard day at work. There’s no need to ramble on about Lori and the rest of her minions; Daisy has heard it all before, and she sympathizes as much as she can. She and Lucas own their own family practice and have the luxury of being their own bosses. I’ve daydreamed about quitting the agency and going to work for them, but working as an office coordinator in a small doctor’s office doesn’t really interest me. Besides, I like real estate, even if I’m not very good at it.
We head outside and Daisy sticks close to me as I nod to the guests I know, which is a good portion of them. Most of them are classmates I’ve kept in touch with over the years. In a small town, it’s kind of impossible not to, especially with the assistance of Facebook. Susie Mathers is sitting on a rocking chair a few feet away with her feet up on a cooler as a makeshift ottoman—she’s nine months pregnant and about ready to pop. Her husband, Dale, stands just to her left chatting with friends, and all the while, his hand sits on her shoulder. It’s a sweet gesture, and it makes me guzzle my wine faster than I should.
I’m about to go refill my glass when Daisy yanks on my arm. “There’s the guy!” she whispers. “Over there talking to your brother.”
It’s not hard to find Lucas. He’s hovering on the porch stairs with a small group of guys, and I recognize all of them except the one with his back turned to me. He’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. I tilt my head in his direction and Daisy nods in confirmation.
I narrow my eyes, trying to assess as much of him as possible from the back. His dark brown hair is mussed up and cute. His arms are toned, and though I don’t think I’ve ever really been the type to notice, he has a great ass. Still, I highly doubt he’s new to town. Daisy has steered me wrong too many times in the past.
Lucas sees us standing in the doorway staring and waves us over. The stranger turns and follows his gaze, and I have my answer.
My eyes widen in shock.
Oh, I know him all right.
“No. No. I know him,” I hiss to Daisy, but it’s already too late. She doesn’t hear me—she’s too busy playing Cupid and pushing me toward the group. I have no choice but to follow along with her plan. If I plant my feet on the deck and resist her, I’ll trip and fall on my face, and that’s the only thing worse than actually giving in.
The guys watch us approach. I hug Lucas and nod to his friends, then I reluctantly force myself to glance toward the last man in the group.
Adam.
The asshole vet.
“Madeleine,” he says, greeting me with a small nod.
“Adam.”
Everyone in the group is silent, staring between the two of us and trying to dissect our cold greeting.
“I hardly recognized you without Mouse,” he quips.
I smile and it’s fake and he knows it. “And I hardly recognized you without that scowl on your face.”
The scowl in question now takes over his handsome features. There, now that’s the Adam I know.
Daisy speaks up first. “Wait, you two already know each other?”
“He’s Mouse’s vet,” I explain quickly.
Adam smiles, but it doesn’t reach his green eyes. “We met before that though. I have the muddy suit to prove it.”
I stare down at my wine, grateful that their back porch isn’t lit with spotlights considering how red my cheeks are. “Oh, yeah. True. I guess Mouse mauled him or something the other morning, no big deal.”
Lucas doesn’t have the decency to keep his mouth shut. “What do you mean Mouse mauled him?”
I suddenly hate my brother.
Especially because now I have no choice but to regale the whole group with the story of how I’m the worst dog owner in the world. All the while, Adam stands across from me with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around a beer koozie. There’s a small smile lingering on his lips and though I wish he would look away, he’s watching me, curious—probably champing at the bit to cut me off and finish the story in his own words.
“I apologized and offered to pay for dry-cleaning. He didn’t take me up on the offer, and here we are. Can I get anyone a drink?”
Everyone is staring at me like they’re deer caught in headlights. It’s as if they’ve never heard of the classic girl’s dog mauls stranger story.
“Okay, I’ll take that as a no,” I say, turning to head back into the kitchen to refill my wine glass.
Daisy trails after me and barely manages to contain herself until we have the back door closed.
“That’s the guy you emailed me about the other day!?”
It was the morning after the “mauling” incident and I had to tell someone. Now, I regret going into detail about how cute he was. She knows I’m interested.
“Yes.” I nod simply. “That’s him.”