“Do you have a problem with irregularity?” Nanci asks with concern, making me laugh for the first time since this stupid conversation started.
“I was talking about my dad and…. Forget it,” I tell her with a wave of my hand, dropping it back down to continue doodling.
“It sounds to me like you need someone to take care of you for once,” Nanci says. “Someone who makes you want to spend your free time with them.”
“Sure.” I laugh. “It would take a special someone to take care of me, because even though I say I want it, I’m too much of a control freak to let anyone do anything for me. This is why I will be single forever, Nanci. Just accept it. I have no type, and I don’t want or need any man. Can you answer my question about Erin and her hours now?”
Nanci suddenly leans closer to me, cocking her head to the side to get a better look at my notebook.
“Would you look at that? You scribbled Dax’s name all over the page,” she muses as I look down in horror at what I didn’t even realize I’d been doing.
I don’t know what it is about this woman. No matter how exasperating I think she is, she still has the ability to make me word-vomit all my troubles and then doodle a guy’s name in my notebook like I’m in high-school, hoping he’ll ask me to prom.
“Does this mean we’re going steady now?”
I slam my notebook closed when I hear Dax’s voice above me, tipping my head way back to look at him upside down. Probably a bad idea, since the grumpy cat frown I’m currently giving him looks like a giant smile from his angle.
He’s resting his hands on the back of the bench right by my shoulders, and he’s leaning over me, which of course gave him the perfect view of the hundreds of times I doodled his name all over that notebook page.
“I really hate you,” I mutter quietly, even though he’s so close I can smell his fresh, soapy, manly scent, and it makes me want to turn around and shove my face into his chest to sniff him.
“Good. Because I really don’t hate you at all. Once of us should stay difficult to keep things interesting.” He winks.
Fucking winks.
I snap my head back upright and realize Nanci is still sitting a few feet away from me on the bench, looking back and forth between me and Dax with a sinister look on her face.
Fine, so it’s a sweet smile, but I know her better now, and I know she has nothing but evil intentions hidden under that grin. She’s got… matchmaking on her mind.
Swallowing back the vomit in my throat, I quickly get up from the bench, Nanci mirroring my actions and then stepping toward me, pulling a folded-up piece of paper out of the front pocket of her tan dress slacks.
“Here’s a list of all the employees, their hours, and their start dates,” she says with a bright smile, handing me all of the information I’ve been trying to pull out of her this entire time.
“You could have given this to me an hour ago,” I remind her, shoving the paper into the back of my notebook rather aggressively.
“Where would the fun have been in that? Then I wouldn’t have found out you’re not a snuggler, you only buy Lucky Charms to eat the marshmallows, and the last time you had relations with a man was—”
“Okay!” I shout, cutting her off before this gets even worse, the sound of Dax chuckling next to me not helping matters. “There are otters that need to be found.”
“I’d actually like to know the answer to that last one,” Dax whispers close to my ear, because of course he does.
Why the hell does he always smell so good? He works with animals. He should smell like shit and wet dog. I feel personally attacked right now.
Nanci finally gets the hint, saying a quick goodbye to both of us before heading toward the farmhouse. Dax and I start walking around the front of the farmhouse toward the otter habitat on the opposite side, where we’re going to be conducting the interviews. I make sure to keep at least a two-foot distance between us, so I don’t start panting like a dog if I smell him again.
“Well, she’s certainly a good time,” I tell Dax when Nanci is finally out of earshot.
He chuckles, sliding a hand through his hair to push it back out of his face.
“Imagine having her partially raise you,” Dax replies.
We walk in silence the rest of the way, and I try to study Dax out the corner of my eye without him noticing as he holds the door open for me that leads to his office.
Dammit if he isn’t a thing of beauty now. So masculine and hot. It’s just not fair I hate him.
Ovaries: Hate-fucking is making a comeback. We’ll pencil that in for you.
As Dax leads me through his small office, I push away any and all unprofessional thoughts as I watch him shove open the bottom half of a dutch door that leads out into what looks like a sparsely decorated living room with toys all over the place. I pause right inside the office as Dax turns to face me and closes the bottom part of the door, shutting me in without him.
“Let me greet them first and try to get them calmed down before you come out and join me,” he explains, smacking his hand on top of the door ledge at my waist twice before walking over to the middle of the room.
The work I did on this case from home last night included getting sucked into the black hole that is otter videos on the internet. I’ve seen them squeaking in excitement as they feed themselves treats, twittering as they get belly rubs, playing fetch in a pool with a rubber ball, and baby otters drinking milk out of baby bottles. Just the idea that I am seconds away from interacting with them is making my palms sweat and my heart beat faster in my chest. It’s impossible to remain calm in this moment, and I don’t even try.
My notebook and pen are tossed somewhere behind me, and I grip the ledge of the dutch door, bouncing up and down where I stand. I watch as Dax kicks a few rubber chew toys out of the way before kneeling down in the middle of the room. All of a sudden, a loud whistle comes out of his mouth, followed by a shout.
“Babies!”
That’s it. Just one word. I heard him cry it and shriek it on a phone recording yesterday, and it almost brought me to tears I laughed so hard. Hearing Dax shout it in such a deep, commanding voice absolutely does not make me laugh this time, and nothing prepares me for what I am about to witness, not even four straight hours of otter videos.
Seconds after Dax shouts, it’s answered by a chorus of screams and chirps as a group of otters come barreling into the room from the doggie door that leads outside, snapping, biting, and tripping over each other as they race to get to Dax. I stop bouncing in place, and my mouth drops open when Dax holds out his arms, that gaggle of screaming, chirping otters climbing all over him while he greets them like he hasn’t seen them in months.
There’s laughter, smiles, and baby talk, kisses, and scratches behind the ears. I’m suddenly rethinking my stance on snuggling. And boyfriends? I’ll take ten!
I watch this hairy, muscly, tattooed, sometimes broody man get down on the floor and roll around with otters, who are licking his face and biting at his ears and beard like a bunch of puppies, and I resist. I resist, dammit! I hate him. And men are complications I do not have time for.
“Daddy will give all of you treats, but you have to calm down first.”
Oh, Momma like….
No! Absolutely not! This is having no effect on me whatsoever.