“Right. So, I called the doctor first thing this morning, and they fit me in for today.”
“The doctor’s office squeezed you in same day?” she asks disbelievingly.
My answering smile is conspiratorial. “I told them it was really important.”
“Still…a physical doesn’t usually get them jumping to it—”
She stops midsentence when I rock my head back and forth on my shoulders. Her eyebrows pull together, and I curl a finger in her face, suggesting she come in closer. She does, but not nearly close enough. I widen my eyes, and finally, she gets close enough that I can lean right into her ear to whisper.
“I may have…possibly…told them that I was experiencing some pain I’m not.” She gasps. “Maybe, kind of, sort of chest pain.”
She snaps back to standing, her back ramrod straight.
“You told them you were dying?” she whisper-yells.
I laugh. “No, no. I just suggested that maybe they should fit me in is all.”
“You gave them the sense that you might be in cardiac distress, Jake.”
“No. They may have surmised that on their own—”
“Oh man. You’re bad.”
I waggle my brows. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“What do you think they’re going to say when you get in there and you aren’t experiencing chest pain?”
“Nothing.” I shrug and slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “I’ll play dumb. They’ll think it was a mix-up, and I’ll get my physical.”
She shakes her head, her eyes wide with panic, and I have to laugh.
“What? That’s not something you would do?”
“Never,” she says vehemently.
“You’re a good girl, huh?”
“I’m not psychotic, if that’s what you mean.”
I chuckle.
“Ms. Fields?” the receptionist calls, making Holley jump almost ten feet in the air. She glances back at me with unrepressed angst and then heads for the reception desk like I’ve somehow included her in high-level Russian espionage.
I watch avidly as she bends into the window, discussing something with the receptionist I can’t make out, before standing up and making her way back across the room to me. We sit down in chairs next to each other, but it’s more than obvious she thinks even looking at me will make her guilty by association. I lean over and whisper in her ear again.
“I’m not with the KGB, you know. You don’t have to worry about Homeland Security or anything. This is just a doctor’s office.”
“You probably just got us both flagged and put on the terrorist watchlist, I hope you know,” she whispers back angrily. “They listen to everything through our phones.”
“Yeah,” I say with a laugh. “But I said not KGB.”
“Stop saying KGB!”
“Are you secretly a Russian operative? Is that why you’re so nervous?”
“Jake!”
“All right, all right,” I soothe. “I’ll stop.”
“Great,” she says with a roll of her eyes. Clearly, she thinks it’s too late now anyway.
“What can I talk about, Holley? Is there anything that’s safe?”
“You can talk about bananas?”
“Bananas?” I ask with a laugh. “Why bananas?”
“Because they’re a nice, innocent fruit, okay?”
Also, phallic-shaped, but I choose not to mention that for fear her head might explode.
“And full of potassium,” I add mockingly, and she glares. “What’d I say wrong now?”
She sticks out her tongue at me. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“Oh, come on,” I say, and a chuckle escapes my throat. “Bananas? You knew you had it coming with that one. What am I supposed to talk about with bananas?”
“I don’t know,” she snipes. “Gwen Stefani managed a whole song on the topic.”
Man, she’s cute and almost dangerously entertaining. I’ve never met a woman like her in my life. I’ve never seen the appeal of bickering with someone before, but this is unbelievably fun.
“Ah, yes. I know the song well. Chloe went through a god-awful phase with that one.”
“It’s not her fault,” she says defensively. “It’s catchy.”
“Oh no, you too?”
“It’s a Gwen Stefani classic. It’s not like Chloe and I are alone. Maybe you’re the weird one.”
“Maybe I am,” I agree.
“Jake Brent?” the nurse calls from the door beside the reception desk. It feels like no time at all has passed, sitting here teasing Holley Fields, and it almost feels like a shame to leave her. Still, I get up from my chair and bid her adieu.
She looks at me nervously, obviously thinking I really told them I was suffering symptoms of cardiac arrest to get this appointment—a little fib I thought she’d catch on to immediately since they would have sent me to the ER instead of coming in here like it was no big deal—and I have to