“Okay.” I wave. “Have fun.”
“Yeah, so much fun.” He chuckles before shutting the door behind him.
Sighing, I lean back on the couch and mentally curse the child who put Chase on the case, whatever the hell that means. So close.
So freaking close to finally finding out what it’s like to have Beau Novak’s lips on mine, and now I’m sitting here, feeling like I have a heavy case of . . . hell, of blue balls.
How is that even possible?
This morning, I woke up with the worst hangover, not from wine, but from my family. I decided to flee the nest, get some perspective, do some thinking, and next thing I know, I’m being saved by a knight in a white lab coat.
A knight I used to think about all the time.
A knight I chose not to think about after the fire.
A knight who has serendipitously come bounding back into my life.
I need to tell Laramie.
Reaching for my phone, I type out a quick text to him.
Palmer: I’m in Dr. Beau’s apartment. He almost kissed me.
I spoke with Laramie the other night and told him how I keep running into Beau. Laramie insists I call him “Dr. Beau” because he thinks it has a better ring to it. He also insists on pictures. I’ve been able to sneak one, but that’s about it.
My phone dings.
Laramie: Heaven help me, is he naked in the other room, wearing nothing but a stethoscope and ready to give you a physical examination?
I chuckle and text back.
Palmer: No. I WISH!
Laramie: Ugh, then what the hell are you doing? If he almost kissed you, why aren’t you making it actually happen?
Palmer: A patient with something stuck up their nose came by.
Laramie: Medical emergency! What was stuck up the patient’s nose?
Palmer: Does it matter?
Laramie: To me it does. You know how I watch the shit out of all of those medical shows. I need to know what it was.
Palmer: Uh it was some child with a dog named Chase up his nose.
Laramie: CHASE? From Paw Patrol! Oooo, what a twist. Did not see that coming. I would also like to know the diameter of that figurine. Either it was a small Chase or that kid has quite the set of nostrils.
Palmer: It looked pretty small, but it wasn’t the kid’s first offense according to the panicky mom.
Laramie: God, kids are the absolute tits. Look at this toy, I’m going to shove it up my nose, ruin everyone’s night, and laugh it off later while I make plans to do it again.
Palmer: That is scarily accurate.
Laramie: Three vengeful nieces will prepare you for the way they think. Trust me, that kid thinks he’s the king of Toyland right now.
Palmer: Well, he ruined my first kiss with Dr. Beau.
Laramie: The nerve. Paint the picture, let me see if we can get you back in the mood when he gets back. What were you doing?
Palmer: Building a puzzle.
Laramie: Blinks A . . . puzzle? Like a real jigsaw puzzle?
Palmer: Yes, of a gardenscape.
Laramie: Oh damn. Babe, you’re going to have to take your shirt off and shimmy your titties at him to get him back in the mood. There is no way a gardenscape jigsaw puzzle is going to do it on its own. Especially after he has to dig for gold in a little punk’s nostril.
Palmer: That’s what I was afraid of. So, you think I should take my shirt off? That’s pretty forward, I’m not sure I can do that.
Laramie: What are you wearing now?
Palmer: Long story, but his clothes. Mine were dirty.
Laramie: Dear Jesus, I just had an idea! Does he have any of his lab coats in his apartment?
My eyes land on the coatrack near his door, which does in fact have a few lab coats on it.
Palmer: Yes . . .
Laramie: Time to strip, babe. Wear nothing but the lab coat, and when he arrives, tell him the doctor is in the house.
Palmer: I think you fail to realize that is something I would SO not do.
Laramie: Fine, then let the puzzle carry the mood for you. Good luck getting your first kiss fifty years from now.
Palmer: Do you really think he’s not going to be in the mood when he gets back?
Laramie: He just plucked a dog from a schnoz. There’s no recovering after that unless you take it up a notch. You’ve wanted him for a while, so go get him.
I nibble on the corner of my lip and study the lab coats from the couch.
Palmer: I don’t know . . .
Laramie: Do it. You know you want to.
Palmer: I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.
Laramie: Do it. Do it. Do it then thank me later.
Palmer: Gahhhhh. I’m going to do it.
Laramie: That’s my girl.
I think I’ve lost my freaking mind.