He squirmed, tried to roll into a ball, leaped over the seats, then back again. He slithered like a snake in an attempt to wedge himself under the seat.
Then, unable to escape, went limp again, forcing the two women to carry his dead dog weight into the examining room.
“Fuck me, Fee. Couldn’t you raise Poms?”
“He could be a face-eating Chihuahua.”
“Please tell me you got his weight at home because there’s no way we’re getting him on the scale.”
“Eighty-two.”
It took a solid and sweaty thirty minutes as Newman resisted every second.
“You know,” Fiona panted, using her own body to hold Newman’s down, “this dog would walk through fire for me. Through fire over broken glass while meteors rained out of the sky. But I can’t get him to just hold the hell still for a routine exam. And he knew. The minute I called them to get in the car, he knew. How many times do I put them in the car for work, for play, for whatever? How does he know? I had to get the others in first—they’re more easily fooled. Then drag him. It’s humiliating,” she said to Newman. “For both of us.”
“Thank all the gods, we’re done.”
Mai didn’t bother to offer the treat as Newman would very likely spit it in her face. “Cut him loose, and let’s open that wine.”
Mai’s pretty bungalow sat with its back to the sea. Once it had been part of a farm, then the house had morphed into a B&B. When Mai and her husband moved to Orcas, he’d wanted to farm.
Mai moved her Tacoma practice to the island, pleased to work at home, content with the slower lifestyle while her husband raised chickens, goats, berries and field greens.
It took less than four years for the bloom to wear off on the gentleman farmer, whose next brainstorm had been buying a bar and grill in Jamaica.
“Tim’s moving to Maine,” Mai said as they carried the wine out to the yard. “He’s going to be a lobsterman.”
“Not kidding?”
“Not. I have to say, he lasted longer than I expected with the bar.” Even as they sat, dogs hurried over to vie for attention. Tails wagged, tongues licked. “Sure, now we’re pals.”
Mai passed out the biscuits she’d brought with her.
“They love you—and the treats aren’t poison except in the exam room.”
“Yeah, all’s forgiven. I’m sorry I couldn’t run the base for the search on the little boy. I had that emergency surgery, and I just couldn’t postpone it.”
“It’s no problem. That’s why we have alternates. They’re a nice family. The kid’s a champ.”
“Yeah?” Mai sighed. “You know, it’s probably—certainly—best that Tim and I put off having kids. Can you imagine? But my clock’s ticking double time. I know I’m going to end up adopting another dog or cat or other mammal to compensate.”
“You could adopt an actual human child. You’d be a great mom.”
“I would. But... I still have a tiny crack of a sliver of hope that I could start a family with a man, give the kid the full complement of parents. Which means I have to actually date, and have sex. And when I think of men, dating and sex, I remember how horny I am. I’m considering naming my vibrator Stanley.”
“Stanley?”
“Stanley is kind, and thinks only of my pleasure. I’m still winning our dry spell contest, I assume. Fourteen months.”
“Nine, but I don’t think that one time really counts. It was lousy sex.”
“Lousy sex is still sex. It may be a crap contest to win, but there are rules. And while there will always be Stanley, I’m seriously considering other options.”
“Girls? Club trolling? Personal ads?”
“All weighed and rejected. Don’t laugh.”
“Okay. What?”
“I’ve been checking out the Internet dating sites. I even have a profile and application ready to go. I just haven’t hit send. Yet.”
“I’m not laughing, but I’m not convinced. You’re gorgeous, smart, funny, interesting, a woman with a wide range of interests. If you’re serious about getting back into the dating arena, you need to put yourself out there more.”
Nodding, Mai took a long sip of wine, then leaned forward. “Fee, you may not have noticed, but we live on a small island off the coast of Washington state.”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
“The population of this small island is also relatively small. The single-male element of that population, considerably smaller. Why else are two gorgeous, smart and sexy women sitting here on a pretty evening drinking wine with dogs?”
“Because we like to?”
“We do. Yes, we do. But we also like the company of men. At least I think we do as it’s been some time. And I believe I’m correct in saying we both enjoy good, healthy, safe sex.”
“This is correct, which is why I really think that one time shouldn’t count in the contest.”
“Old business.” Mai flicked it away. “I’ve made a considerable if unscientific study of that single-male element of our island population. For my own purposes, I have to eliminate males under the age of twenty-one and over the age of sixty-five. Both boundaries are a stretch as I’m thirty-four, but beggars, choosers. The pool’s shallow, Fee. It’s pretty freaking shallow.”
“I can’t argue with that. But if you add in tourists and seasonals, it’s a little deeper.”
“I do have some small hope for summer, but meanwhile? I took a hard look at James.”
“James? Our James.”
“Yes, our James. Mutual interests, age appropriate. Low spark, admittedly, but you work with what you’ve got. The trouble is he’s got his eye on Lori, and there’s no poaching within the unit. There is one intriguing possibility on island. Single, age appropriate, dog owner, very attractive. Creative type. A little taciturn for my taste, but there’s that beggars, choosers again.”
“Oh,” Fiona said, and took a drink.
“Simon Doyle. Sylvia carries his work. Wood artist, furniture.”
“Mmm,” Fiona said this time, and took another drink.
Mai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re looking at him? Damn it, he might be all that’s standing between me and HeartLine-dot-com.”
“I’m not looking. Not exactly. He’s a client. I’m working with his dog.”
“Cute dog.”
“Very. Hot guy.”
“Very. Look, if you’re going to call dibs, call it, because I have plans to make. I have a serious need to get laid.”
“I’m not calling dibs on a man. Jesus, Mai. He’s really not the kind of guy you tend toward.”
“Shit,” Mai said, and took a slug of wine. “He’s alive, single, within the age boundaries and, as far as I know, not a serial killer.”
“He kissed me.”
“Two scoops of shit. Okay, give me a minute to hate you.” Mai drummed her fingers on the table. “All right, hate time’s done. Sexy kiss or friendly kiss?”
“It wasn’t friendly. He’s not especially friendly. I don’t think he likes people that much. He stopped by so I could work with Jaws. I was running the mock search with the Bellingham unit. So I invited him to stay, mix, have some brownies. I doubt he said five words to anybody. Except for Syl. He likes Syl.”
“Maybe he’s shy. Shy can be sweet.”
“I don’t think so, and sweet’s not a word I’d use in the same sentence with Simon. He’s an exceptional kisser, and that’s a plus.”
“Bitch, don’t make me hurt you.”
Fiona grinned. “And I don’t need a relationship, but I do require some basic conversation when I sleep with a guy.”
“You had conversation with the one-time guy nine months ago. Look where that got you.”
“That’s true.” Fiona was forced to sigh in remembrance. “But I’m not calling dibs. If the opportunity presents, help yourself.”
“No, it’s too late. He’s out of the running. HeartLine-dot-com, here I come.”
“We need to go on vacation.”
Mai choked out a laugh. “Yeah, sure.”
“No, I mean it. You, me, Syl. A girl trip, a girl thing. A spa,” she decided, inspired. “A long girl spa weekend.”