Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Sounds about right.” Yara grins.
“Strange.” I balance the new or spare pair on the fence post, when Oliver reaches for them, slipping them behind his pocket square.
“I’ll just hold onto these for you.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, unamused.
“Right, well, I suppose I’d better get myself to the clinic,” Yara says, bending to scoop up her bag. “I have a meeting to look forward to with the advocates of a cocker spaniel I operated on yesterday.”
My expression turns sympathetic. The downside of this job is handling the unhappy cases. “Things didn’t go well?”
“Eh.” Yara shrugs, then slides her bag higher up her shoulder. “Foreign-body obstruction. The surgery was fine. The issue is that the foreign body turned out to be a pair of silky knickers.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. For a dog, everything is edible until proved otherwise,” I say, mostly for Oliver’s benefit.
“Yes, so I’ve heard.”
I slant him a look that says So you’ve experienced.
“But it is the first time I’ve been asked to produce the foreign body,” Yara adds.
I pull a face. “Ew.”
“Good thing Rachel managed to pull them before they were sent for incineration.”
“Double ew.”
“That’s what she gets for giggling over other people’s problems,” Yara says airily, no doubt a reference to getting caught watching a certain Pulse Tok video.
I shake my head and smile, touched by her support.
“The advocate, also known as the pet owner,” she clarifies for Oliver, “asked me to describe them over the phone, and she did not sound very impressed when I did. ‘Red!’” Yara enunciates in an accent much posher than her own. “‘I do not own red undergarments!’ Anyway, they’ve been bagged for this afternoon’s appointment, and I have a very nasty feeling I’m only there as witness to her confronting him.”
“I’d clear all sharp instruments from the room if I were you.”
I feel the sudden weight of Oliver’s hand on my shoulder. “Because there are better ways to exact revenge.”
My face heats immediately, and Yara looks thrilled.
“It won’t be much fun,” I say, hurrying on.
“Maybe not for him, but I think I might enjoy it.” Her fingers fold around the strap of her bag. “Nice to meet you, Oliver.”
“And you. I’m sure our paths will cross again.” Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he wraps his arm around my shoulder, absently pressing his lips to my hair. I rest the back of my head against his chest, angling it to smile at him.
Anyone looking at us would probably mistake this for adoration. And I guess I’m getting pretty good at pretending, because even my heart feels like joining in.
Chapter 25
OLIVER
“I’ve got to find my phone,” Eve says as her friend disappears. Yet she doesn’t move, and neither do I, enjoying the weight of her head against my sternum and the whisper of her hair under my chin.
“Maybe we should buy you a tracker.” I frown slightly at my use of the plural.
“What about my glasses? I don’t understand how I now have two pairs of them.”
Four pairs. She has four pairs, all the same. She just doesn’t know that Andrew set his assistant the task of discovering which London optician held her prescription. None, as it turned out. They had to be ordered from the United States from somewhere called Warby Parker. Once the extra pairs were delivered, it was just a case of planting them around the suite to prevent her from spending large parts of her days looking for them.
“One of life’s mysteries,” I offer as my free hand slips over the curve of her hip. “But not a very interesting one, unlike like this spot right here.” My fingers trail over the tiny indent below her hip bone that seems to have been created for my thumb, before I explore the gentle curve of her stomach. Nature’s sweet slide into another wonderland.
“Hey!” She squirms, twisting away.
“You’re ticklish.” I happily slot the knowledge away.
“What’s Change of Heart doing here?” Nora appears around the hedge, her voice particularly strident for someone of her advanced years. “Come to ruin another suit, have you?”
“Nora, you know his name is Oliver,” Eve laughingly returns. A pleasurable pang resounds in my chest as she slips her hand into mine. “And no, you can’t rope him in to help today. He’s here as my ride.”
If only.
“Done already?” Nora asks, unimpressed.
“Yep, all finished. Yara already left for the clinic.”
The older woman sniffs. “She won’t get her treat, then. Here, this is yours,” she says, pulling a white paper bag out of her battered leather purse. A number of envelopes flutter to the ground.
“These look important.” Eve gathers up the mail before taking the proffered bag. “This one is from the council,” she asserts, sorting through them. “This one, I’m not sure. Want me to open it to see what it’s about?”
“Nah, chuck ’em on the pile. I’ll read them later. Take this.” From the pocket of her green pants, she pulls out Eve’s cell phone. “You left it on the hedge again.”