The Most Famous Illegal Goose Creek Parade (26 page)

“What I mean is, uh, I didn't expect to see you here. Or anywhere. Since you live in Frankfort, that is.” She snapped her mouth shut before her babbling got worse.

Millie took the paper from Mrs. Easterly's hand. “He's here to see me.”

“Oh.” Disappointment flooded her. She had assumed he was there to try to convince her to keep their date tonight. A stupid assumption, since she knew Millie had hired him.

She started to retreat but Justin hurried around the reception counter, aqua eyes fixed on her face. “But I really hoped I'd run into you. Matter of fact, I plan to hang around until you finish for the day and try to convince you to change your mind.” His expression became pleading. “Have dinner with me.”

A pleasant warmth washed over her. “I really can't—”

“Oh, come on. We'll grab a quick burger or something.” He raised two fingers like a boy scout making a pledge. “I promise to have you home in time to do your laundry.”

Those eyes would be the downfall of her resolve. The longer she
looked into them, the less sense her decision to cancel their date made. What harm was there in dinner with a friend? A girl had to eat, didn't she?

“Wellllllll…” Indecision gave the word a few extra syllables.

He straightened, grinning. “Great. When will you be finished here?”

Before she could answer, Millie piped up. “Your last appointment is at three forty-five.”

“I'll be here by four thirty,” he said.

Susan started to ask if they could make it five so she could go home and change clothes, but he stopped her by raising a finger in the air. “No backing out.” Before she could voice her question, he whirled and dashed through the door.

“He seems like a nice young man,” commented Mrs. Easterly. “And quite pleasant to look at, too.”

Millie nodded and typed the diagnosis code into the computer. A secretive smile curved the receptionist's lips, giving her the look of someone who was particularly pleased with herself.

Millie's Chewy Chocolate Cookies

2 sticks butter, room temperature

2 cups sugar

2 eggs

2 tsp vanilla extract

¾ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

2 cups flour

1 tsp baking soda

½ tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350°. Cream butter and sugar together. Add eggs and vanilla, stirring until well combined. Sift the dry ingredients together and add to creamed mixture a little at a time. Form a rounded spoonful of cookie dough into a ball and place it on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, pressing slightly to form a disc. Bake in preheated oven for approximately 10 minutes. Cool slightly on cookie sheet before removing parchment paper with cookies to the counter to continue cooling.

Chapter Seventeen

A
dozen times during the afternoon Susan picked up her phone to text Justin and cancel the date. All Daddy's reasons still held true. The business needed her full attention if it were to have a chance to succeed. Every effort should focus on that end. The list of former patients she had painstakingly assembled awaited phone calls, which she could make while her laundry was in the wash. She ought to call Daddy so he could act as the voice of reason and talk her out of spending the evening with Justin.

But whenever she reached for the phone something stopped her, and the call to Daddy never got made. Instead, she ran home during a lull in the schedule to grab a change of clothes. Leggings instead of a skirt, since Justin made a point of saying he intended to wear jeans, but she could at least wear heels and a pretty top. And makeup.

At 4:10 she said goodbye to Mrs. Pennyweather and her tabby cat—with only five toes on each foot, imagine that!—and closed herself in the bathroom. She studied the image in the vanity mirror. Goodness, was the light dim in here or did she really look that washed-out? She should start wearing makeup every day. And her hair…she pulled the ponytail holder out and shook her head. What a limp, mousy mess. She rummaged in the bag she'd brought from home and extracted a long-ignored curling iron. Hopefully she could remember how to use the thing.

Twenty minutes later she stepped back and examined the transformation. Not bad. Decent, in fact. Gentle curls falling around her face definitely softened the sharp angles of her jaw. And her skin took on a silky appearance with a touch of powder. Yes, a definite improvement from the shoulders up. If only the mirror showed the rest of her. She whirled once, enjoying the silky feel of the swirling gossamer fabric. The long top settled around her trim thighs. Looking down, the effect was flattering. Hopefully Justin thought so.

She emerged, the heels of her strappy sandals clicking on the hallway floor when she stowed the bag in the office. The sound of the clinic's front door closing and the rumble of a deep male voice set off a violent flutter in her stomach. For a moment her confidence failed and she sagged against the edge of her desk. What was she doing? She hadn't had a date since her freshman year in college. Her studies were too important, Daddy advised, and he'd been right. Then veterinary school absorbed every spare minute. The effort had been worth it. She'd emerged at the top of her class.

I'm stalling.

Stiffening her spine, she strode toward the reception area.

If she'd had any doubts about her looks, they evaporated when she came through the clinic door. Justin stopped his conversation with Millie mid-sentence. His gaze swept her from head to foot and back again, coming to a stop on her eyes. Admiration radiated from him in nearly palpable waves.

“Wow. You look…” He finished his sentence with a long whistle.

Heart pounding, she lowered her gaze. “Thank you.”

“What a beautiful tunic, dear.” Millie's voice bubbled with enthusiasm. “So flattering. And that hairstyle really suits you.” The receptionist gazed at her with something approaching maternal pride, which brought a pleasurable warmth to Susan's cheeks.

“Uh, there's only one problem,” Justin said.

Her gaze flew upward. “Problem?”

“Do you have anything sturdier that covers your toes?” A frown
gathered on his forehead as he peered at her sandals. “Leather boots, or even tennis shoes would be better than those.”

“You don't like them?” Horrified, she heard a quiver in her voice.

“Sure I do.” He took two giant strides forward and touched her arm. “They're great, really. But they're not safe on a motorcycle.”

Now it was her turn to stand with her mouth gaping.

“You're on your motorcycle?” Millie stood to look out the window. Consternation creased her brow. “You can't take a date on a motorcycle.”

His head cocked sideways. “Why not? I brought an extra helmet.”

Millie heaved an exasperated sigh. “A motorcycle isn't appropriate for a first date.”

Justin looked truly perplexed. “But it's a Harley.”

The answer was so outlandish Susan couldn't hold back a laugh. She'd heard that Harley Davidson owners were proud, but she'd never actually met one. The bewildered expression he turned on her made her laugh even harder.

“What's funny about a Harley?” he asked, sounding slightly offended.

She answered with more laughter. The situation really wasn't that funny, but her mirth was fed by pent-up nerves, and she couldn't stop. What would Daddy say when he found out she'd gone on a date with a biker?
And
that she'd ridden on his motorcycle? She bent double, laughing, and then recovered enough to say, “Just give me a minute to change shoes.”

“If you have any sturdier pants you might want to put them on too.” At her questioning glance, he explained, “If a bug hits your leg at sixty miles an hour, it's gonna hurt like heck unless you have some sort of protection.”

Her lips twitched at the idea of projectile insects, but she controlled herself as she returned to her office to change back into the slacks and T-shirt she'd worn beneath her lab coat.

“That little guy was born at the beginning of February.” Susan followed Justin's nod to a nursing colt at the far end of the pasture. “I was driving by the day they turned him out for the first time, so I pulled off to watch and struck up a conversation with the breeder. They say he has the look of his sire, who was a Derby winner. Sometimes I come out here just to watch him.”

When they left the animal clinic Justin took her to a roadside diner down a tree-lined country road, the kind of place she would never have the nerve to visit on her own. The tiny building could use a good painting, and the sign hung slightly lopsided. Inside they'd sat at one of the five tables, where Susan was served the best burger she'd ever eaten, smothered in grilled onions and dripping with cheese. They talked for almost two hours, the server refilling their glasses with sugary sweet tea more times than she could count. Then he drove her down the narrow country lane beneath a canopy of tender spring leaves that seemed somehow closer and more alive from the back of a motorcycle than they ever did in a car.

Now they stood in the grass at a white plank fence surrounding a peaceful green pasture where a half-dozen foals and mares grazed in the deep green Kentucky grass. On the horizon sat a gigantic white barn with blue trim, covered in cross-hatched doorways and topped with a trio of spire-style cupolas. Though the farms around her home in southwestern Kentucky had their share of traditional horse barns, she had never seen so many gorgeous and extravagant thoroughbred barns as graced the central part of the state.

The colt lifted its head and stood for a moment beside the mare, then took off across the grass with the frolicking gait of a foal that has not yet grown into its long legs. Susan climbed up onto the bottom plank and hung her arms over the top of the fence to get a better look. “He's going to be a runner.”

“You know it. I'm not a betting man, but if he makes it to the Derby in a couple of years I might have to make an exception.” His expression as his gaze followed the colt held a paternalistic touch of pride.

A few minutes later Justin held out a hand to help Susan down. When she stood firmly on the grass, he did not release her but instead entwined his fingers in hers, which set off a delicious tickle in her stomach as they covered the few steps back to the waiting motorcycle. When they arrived, it was with obvious reluctance that he let go so he could help her shrug into the bulky leather jacket he insisted she wear. His hands lingered on her shoulders a minute longer than absolutely necessary, and she didn't mind in the least.

“What do you think of your first ride on a motorcycle?”

“I love it. It feels so…” She threw her arms wide as though to embrace the countryside. “So freeing.”

“You're a convert.” Approval sparkled in his eyes. “Before you know it you'll be shopping for your own.”

A laugh emerged at the idea. Daddy would have a conniption. She shook her head. “I'd much rather be a passenger. That way I don't have to worry about shifting gears or traffic or all that stuff. I can sit back and enjoy the view.”

He grinned. “When I was little and rode on the back of my dad's bike I used to sing at the top of my lungs. Inside the helmet nobody could hear me.”