Page 11

Story: Kiss Me, Doc

My brows puckered together. “A husband?”

She nodded solemnly and a little too exaggerated to pass as sober. “I told my boss I’m married.” She made a distressed little sound and then let her face fall into her hands. “I’m not married.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “So, let me get this straight, Dr. Love. You told your boss you had a husband to prove how good you are at relationships, but you’re both bad at relationshipsandsingle? And you got yourself trapped by your own lie?”

She nodded, moaning into her fingers. “Not even my bess’ friend wanted me. Ifhedidn’t marry me, who would?”

Ouch. That didn’t sound great. “I’m sure you’re very, er, lovable. In your own way,” I assured her.

“I’m so fired,” she moaned. “I’m—I’ll lose my ‘parment. Oh my God.”

“There were a lot of ways I thought this conversation would go,” I said, mostly to myself. “But this was not one of them.”

Suddenly, the employee wearing a red floral dress sashayed up to us, and her interest ping-ponged between us. “Hello! I’m Scarlet, one of the Kiss-Met associates.”

I held out a hand. “Cal.”

She shook it. “I recognize you. You came in looking for Ruth earlier today, didn’t you?”

Ruth, huh?I cocked a look toward Ruth. “Sure was.”

Ruth made a strangled kind of squeaking sound. “Totally.”

A harebrained, ridiculous idea zinged through my mind suddenly. It was absurd, and sober Ruth likely would not thank me for it. But it occurred to me that whatever issues Dr. Coldwell was having might be solved in the same way my own would be. It was massively unethical, and I was cognizant, even in that lightning-quick moment I made the decision, that I was entrapping her into a scheme that leaned heavily in my favor. Still, I simply couldn’t pass this up. I’d never been accused of being a saint.

“Actually, I’m her husband,” I said easily. Ruth choked on air, covering her mouth and gasping for breath. I stood and went to stand next to her, patting her on the back. “She texted me and told me she hasn’t been feeling well.”

“Oh!” Scarlet’s eyes lit up with understanding. “So that’s why you were looking for her.”

“Absolutely,” I lied, still patting Ruth on the back.

Ruth sat up straight, and even in my peripheral vision I saw her mouth opening like she might contradict me. I squeezed her shoulder hard. “Ow!” she growled.

“She doesn’t want to leave.” I leaned forward, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Doctors, am I right? Workaholics, all of them.” Straightening, I gave Scarlet my warmest, A+ bedside manner smile. “Do you think it would be alright if I got her home?”

“Oh, for sure,” Scarlet said with a wave of her hand. “I can handle things from here.”

“Thank you so much.” I leaned to the side, and with alarming ease, I was able to lift Ruth under her arms and out of her chair. She wassoshort. Like a pocket-sized nerd with cute hair. “Come on, sweetie.”

She let out another outraged sound, but Scarlet was already hurrying off to ring the bell after the timer on her phone went off. “Feel better, Dr. C!”

“What?” Ruth asked me, pulling against my hold and angling away from me. But whether she meant to or not, she was leaning against me the next second, and her legs wobbled beneath her like a newborn foal.

Judging by the rate she had gone from silly tipsy to fumbling drunk, I estimated she had maybe an hour where her alcohol levels would continue rising. Then they would fall, and the puking would start. I guided her past curious, askance glances from the talking couples. “Play along,Dr. C. I’m saving yourjob. Which is pretty nice of me,” I went on, helping her down the stairs to the lower level, “considering that you ruined my week.”

“I didn’ do it on purpose,” she mumbled, swerving and then apparently giving up and leaning against my side heavily.

“Did you even get thisjobon purpose?” I muttered, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her along beside me.

She snorted out a laugh, and with her head resting on my arm, she rolled a dopey look up to me. “How d’you guess?”

“It’s my stunning intellect,” I replied wryly. “Whoa, watch that step. It goes down.” We reached the front door, and the concrete step fell away sharply. I hitched her up against me as she stumbled out. Before closing the door, I looked over my shoulder to find Harper, who had come with me to keep the male and female numbers even. But she was deep in conversation with a dude who had a man bun, so I figured I would text her later.

“It’s still light out?” Ruth demanded as we stumbled into the quiet historical street. The heady scent of magnolias and morning glories drifted through the thick, humid air, but the waning sun had sucked some of the heat from the day, and the shade from the mature trees along the sidewalk dispelled the worst of the lingering warmth.

“It’s like 7:30. Yeah, it’s still light out.” I guided her to the right where I’d parked my SUV. “What’ll it be, Shortstop? My house or yours?”

“Oh boy,” she groaned, grasping my shirt in her hands and pitching awkwardly against me as we walked. “Do you haveaspirin?”