Page 21 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice (Wayward Hollow #1)
Henry
I watch my girlfriend through the window like a lovesick puppy.
My girlfriend. God, I still can’t believe it.
I was hoping, but after all, we don’t even know each other that well yet. I know her smile brightens a room, and I could listen to her ramble all day long, but there is so much I have no clue about. What are her hobbies, aside from collecting stray cats and arguing with ghost cats?
Counting the times I was at her home, we’ve had two almost dates . I sure was hoping I wasn’t imagining the attraction between us, but this still seems too good to be true.
I mean, she’s funny and gorgeous and has a big heart for animals. Her smile radiates brighter than the sun, and everyone wants to catch a ray and keep it to themselves. She’s almost too perfect. Is there’s a catch I’ve yet to be clued in on?
I’ve felt drawn to her since she stormed in here with Chaos cradled to her chest and pleaded with me to save her.
I thought she’d hate me when there was nothing I could do.
But then I met her again at Caleb’s, rambling about her ghost cat.
And when I got that call from her when she found Pumpkin, I knew fate would have more in store for us.
If that isn’t a love story for the ages, I don’t know what is.
She stops in front of the window, pulling her phone out of her bag, and I’m surprised when she answers it. Even more surpri sed when she suddenly tenses, and her face sets in anger as she storms off.
Huh. I’d love to know what that’s about. But I’ll have to wait a few hours until we meet at Caleb’s.
Yet a weird unease builds in my gut suddenly, and it’s neither my breakfast nor my lunch acting up.
But there’s nothing I can do right now. So, I plaster a pleasant smile on my face and greet the Greens, who have their bunny in a transport box, ready for me to do a check-up.
“Hey, man.” I look up, confused when a stranger enters my clinic, right as I’m grabbing my bag from the counter.
I have an hour-long drive ahead of me, and I just handed Mr. and Mrs. Thomson the ashes of Rose. I’m ready to get this day over with and meet up with Nic.
All I can think about is seeing her later and finally getting to know more about her without the elephant of “Does she feel it too?” in the room with us. I can’t wait!
The guy who walked in appears nervous, but I can’t see a reason why.
He’s all flaring nostrils and nervously moving hands.
There’s no animal carrier tucked under his designer suit clothed arm or pet walking with him.
But there’s something about him I immediately dislike.
Maybe it’s his nose that’s up in the clouds or the “you’re beneath me” way he carries himself.
He gives me the vibe of the kind of guy whose smirk arrives five seconds before he does.
Whose ego probably needs its own parking space.
Every brown hair is in place, probably insured.
And his designer suit jacket fits as if it was stitched onto him by a tailor who hates joy, before he gained a few pounds.
His expression tells me he probably hasn’t heard the word no since prep school.
His eyes sweep the room as though he’s trying to decide whether whatever he wants is worth the trouble.
His jaw’s sharp, his watch shinier than his personality, and his whole face radiates the smug, polished energy of someone who thinks “Why can’t you take a joke? ” is charisma.
“Can I help you?” I ask, ever the helpful guy.
The guy’s eyes dart around the room, and he puffs himself up, lifting his chest and crossing his arms before he speaks.
“Maybe you can. I’m searching for someone.”
“I think the police station would be the better place to ask,” I point out, noting that I initially wanted to be out the door five minutes ago. “It’s three houses down and then—”
“No,” he interrupts me rudely, punching his fist on my reception table. Jensen is suddenly alert, his low growl making the stranger take a few steps back. I wrap his leash around my hand, in case he decides he wants to bite this guy’s smug face off. I wouldn’t blame him.
“Nicola Duncan. Where is she?”
And suddenly, I know exactly who he is.
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Now it’s my turn to cross my arms in front of my chest.
“I know she’s here!” he shouts, angrily pacing my reception area.
I lift an eyebrow and do a slow, deliberate sweep of the room, as if I might discover her hiding behind a potted plant.
“I don’t see her,” I say, deadpan.
Jensen’s growl becomes louder, his entire body tense, and he’s completely fixated on the guy, carefully tracking every move. He can’t move his pinky without Jensen noticing at this point.
“And if you do see her,” I add sweetly, “I’d strongly recommend a trip to the ER. Or maybe rehab. Or possibly an exorci sm.” I stare at him with fake, exaggerated worry. “Do you need me to call nine-one-one?”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he sneers, walking right up to me and I shake my head.
“I know I am. However, I think you’re rude and can’t take a hint.” I shrug and nod toward my dog. Apparently, he hasn’t seen or heard Jensen yet, because he startles and takes a cautious step back.
“Now, as you can see—” I lift my bag higher and wriggle it a bit. “I was about to leave.” He still doesn’t make any attempts to turn around and walk out the door. “Meaning, you need to leave too.”
His eyes jump from Jensen to me, his face turning red and his fingers flexing into fists before opening again. This guy wants trouble, but he’ll have to find it somewhere else. Whatever his agenda is, I’m not playing along. I have better things to do than placate an ego.
“Fuck,” he mutters and suddenly turns around, pulling the door open with a force that makes me fear for its hinges, and storms out.
“Well, well, well,” I mumble, quickly rounding the counter and locking the door, taking a deep breath to calm down and be a good example for Jensen. “Calm down, Jensen. That fucker is gone.”
But Jensen is still fixated on him, tracking his every step until he finally gets into a black Mercedes and drives out of sight. Even when he’s gone, Jensen remains tense, and I swear the look he’s giving me is his version of “Why didn’t you let me bite that asshat’s neck?”
“Trust me, I have no idea either. He certainly deserves it,” I mumble and give him a reassuring pet once he’s calmed down a bit. With a sigh, I check the time again. Twenty minutes after I initially wanted to leave. I’m officially late.
“I mean, maybe I'm lucky and the only one on the road,” I tell Jensen whose only reaction is a big yawn.