Scandalous Scotsman - M.J. Fields Page 0,18

over there again— and I’m telling you, he will— tell him you don’t feel comfortable with him being your neighbor and doctor. Then tell him you’re making an appointment with Dr. Hook and watch what happens.”

Holding back a laugh, I point at her. “You, Tonya Townley, are telling me to play games?”

“I am.” She wags her perfectly arched brows; not Instagram eyebrows, but perfect, natural ones. Lucky bitch.

She’s always wanting to get ahold of mine and shape them, but I’m perfectly fine with my caterpillars and have promised her, if they ever start connecting, I’ll let her at them.

“And what if he calls my bluff? I don’t have insurance yet, remember?”

“If he calls your bluff, which he won’t, I’ll pay for your appointment as long as I get to come sit on your porch to watch him trip over himself every time he takes that dog for a walk and passes your house doing so.”

“Oh, please,” I huff. “It’s not like—”

“I not only felt the heat in the way he looked at you, Lizzie, I saw fire in his eyes.”

“Funny thing, all I got was tingles.”

“Ask yourself how many times that has happened to you, Lizzie.”

Considering the fact that a magic wand was necessary to “get there” with my ex, and the fact that she knows this, I can’t help smiling.

“You’re an amazing human being with a huge heart, never faltering with all you’ve been through. Your strength is inspirational, even though you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit. But I’m telling you, as a friend, and not just a friend, but as your best friend, you need to stop toying with the idea of dating, and not actually dating because you fear the burn it may cause, and let something besides a vibrator and Jamie Fraser get you there.”

“Oh my God, Tonya.” I laugh.

“I never liked the idea of friends with benefits, but after this weekend …” She stops and sighs as she sits back in her chair.

I laugh. “I think it’s your turn to give it to me, full strength.”

Wednesday

Lizzie

The past several days have been filled by doing things that keep my mind off of him. I’ve binge-watching Jamie, worked two short lunch shifts, attended free yoga classes, and drank expensive coffee. I’ve also been using my recently reconnected internet … at home and on my computer, — an old Mac that Dad swore was the best machine ever built or ever would be built — to come up with the perfect introduction to each of my different classes, based on grade level. My hope is to get them all excited about art and the magic it creates, not only on paper or canvas but inside of us.

Standing back, I look around my classroom and smile. The freshly painted walls—“Eggshell,” as Ruby has told me, and she said it as if it were any better than hospital white— that took away all the color are now covered in perfectly placed frames containing pictures of Ms. Kennedy’s murals.

Perfectly preserved.

“Hey,” a man snaps from behind me, and I jump as I turn my head back to see creepy Ken looming in my doorway with a scowl on his face.

“Ken.”

He points at the wall of frames. “No work order was put in to hang those things.”

“I was given approval to set up my room, Ken.”

“Not to hang those things.” He again points at the wall. “Not to put holes in the walls. Maintenance needs to do that. Work order needs to be approved. It’s against the rules.”

“I used adhesive strips.”

He scowls.

I smile.

He turns and leaves.

I smile for real this time.

Sighing, I hobble to the door, sore, but not broken, and close it.

“Next up”— I clap as I turn around and look at my classroom— “wizard affirmations.”

Sitting in the center of the curved tables that form almost a complete circle, in my wheeled desk chair, I put my leg up on another and get to work.

Pulling into my driveway, I nearly drive over my curb and take out my mailbox and flowerbeds, when I see a shirtless, Greek … no, Scottish statue of a man jogging down the road.

First, Dear Lord, thank you for twenty-twenty and peripheral vision, the sunshine, as well as my dollar store, big ass, Hollywood diva sunglasses.

Please help me refrain from snapping a picture, or at the very least please don’t let the flash go off if I do so.

Amen.

P.S. Please don’t let me drool if he should stop.

Second, Holy. Freaking. Shit.

I hit my garage door opener as