Page 34 of The Perfect Blend
“For posterity,” I said. “Your acts of heroism have so far gone undocumented, but search and rescue for a dog is next level. Also, you make a cute pair.”
Zach smiled at me. “I’m very glad you think so.”
Twenty minutes later we made it back to the churchyard. Zach loaded Beanie up in the back of his car.
“It’s okay!” I said. “I can take her.”
“Let me? That way I can carry her into the vets?”
I had to concede that was a good point. “Thank you. I’ll follow in my car. Do you know Brook Road Vets?”
In the short space of half an hour - considerably shorter than the amount of time spent tramping across the fields, we were waiting for our emergency vet appointment. Zach insisted on waiting with us.
“Now what’s your excuse,” I smiled.
“She might need to be carried back to the car,” he said and grinned at me. “Besides, what are friends for if not for waiting in waiting rooms together, hey Beanie?” Beanie looked up adoringly and beat her tail in response. I tried not to overthink the friend's comment - friends said jokingly because we had acknowledged we wanted to be more than that? Friends because we had a friendship? Was it just me who had been flirting? I shut down my inane commentary and smiled. I was overthinking it, we’d both been flirting the other day in the coffee shop. I opened my mouth to respond when Zachs phone started ringing.
Sophia Calling.
It said on the screen. Zach’s face broke into a soft expression that yanked all my paranoia front and centre. He went to answer just as the veterinary nurse waved us in. He indicated for me to go ahead as he answered the phone.
“Sophia!” he said enthusiastically, and that was all I caught before the surgery door swung shut behind me. The next twenty minutes were tense because I was worried about Beanie and I was frustrated at myself for being so bothered and paranoid about Zach's phone call. I thought I was better than this. Finally, Beanie walked unaided back out of the room, leg bandaged and mood high with the post treatment treat she had been given. She had a slight limp, but the vets said it was just bruised, no break. She would heal quickly. I paid up and Zach stepped into sync beside me as we left. I filled him in on the situation.
“That's great news!” he said. “No permanent damage!” He gave Beanie a big ruffle and I wondered how ridiculous it would be for me to ask who on earth this Sophia was that he was so excited to hear from.
“Sorry I had to answer that call,” he said, breaking the silence. “Sophia’s my um, she’s a friend of mine,” he said. I pressed my lips together at his stumble.
“A friend.” I said flatly, immediately regretting saying anything. I saw a flash of something cross over his face.
“Yes, a friend,” he said, and bent down to catch my eyes where I had looked away from his face. “What’s this about?”
I blew air out of my mouth in a big huff. “I’m sorry, I guess I still get some hang ups from, well, Pete. I guess I’m a bit skittish. I suppose, I thought we might be heading towards something and I sort of got thrown that maybe I had misunderstood or…” I trailed off my rambling.
Zach groaned, “Oh, I’m sorry Robin, no you didn’t,” he coughed, and I glanced up, spotting a pink tinge to his cheekbones. “You didn’t misunderstand a thing, that’s definitely my hope. Listen, Sophia is a friend, I’ve known her all her life, she’s just a kid. I’m not playing the field with anyone. We said we’d give this a proper go after the market, didn’t we?”
I nodded, relief flooding me as I took in his earnest expression. I hadn’t messed it up, and my fears truly were unfounded, built off my own trauma. He smiled, and the rest of my paranoia fled, leaving just a tinge of embarrassment at having jumped to conclusions. This man didn’t just spend hours searching for my dog in the cold, dark, middle of nowhere, only to be stringing me along with another girl on the side.
“Alright then,” he said softly, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
“Thanks again, for everything. Goodnight Zach.” I reached up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, before ushering my patient into the car. I waved my hand goodbye out of the window as I pulled away, and saw him lift a hand in my rear mirror. I felt warm and fuzzy all the way home.
Chapter Thirteen
The morning of our Farm-Warming Christmas Market at Bluebell Ridge Farm dawned brightly. I opened my eyes to the light filtering through my curtains and felt a flicker of excitement. Still, it was an effort to leave the delicious warmth of my duvet. I stuffed my feet into my fuzzy slippers and slouched out of the bedroom, greeting Beanie with a morning pet where she lounged in her own bed in the living room. My morning cold brew was calling me from the fridge and I padded over and pulled it out. Combined with some ice in my favourite glass and a seat by the window looking out over the rooftops, it was my little morning indulgence. The first sip let that rich goodness flow over my tastebuds, reminding me just how much I loved coffee. Yesterday morning I’d been extremely enterprising and made American Pancake batter, so after a minute of nursing my drink, I made the short trip back a few paces into the kitchen. I heated up my frying pan and popped some butter into it, switched the radio on and sang along with the Christmas tunes as I made my breakfast. Today was going to be a good day, absolutely, 100%. No need to be nervous. After polishing off five fluffy pancakes smothered in maple syrup, I had begun to believe my own hype. Who didn’t feel ready to take on the world after such a great start to the day, a belly full of coffee and pancakes?
After all the excitement from yesterday, I thought it best if Beanie didn’t come with me to the market. Once I was dressed, I headed out with my golden girl to walk over to Sharon’s house. She lived three streets over and the little walk would be just the right length for Beanie with her injured leg. Sharon had agreed to have Beanie for the day, and I knew the kids would love playing doctor with her while she rested, and Beanie was always so gentle with them.
We walked up to the front door and knocked on.
“Come in!” Sharon’s muffled voice floated through the door.
I let myself in and we had barely stepped inside as our arrival was heralded by three excited children. “Beanie!” they screeched with glee. At five, seven and nine, Jessie, James and Katie had boundless enthusiasm.
“Oh, yes?” I asked loudly with mock outrage. “And what about Aunty Robin? What am I, chopped liver?”
Katie giggled as she stroked Beanie - who was lapping up all the attention. “Chopped liver!” she parroted. Strictly speaking, since Sharon was my cousin, not my sister, the kids weren’t technically my nieces and nephew. But in our small family, such technicalities didn't really count for much.
“Love you, Aunty Robin!” chirped little Jessie, coming to give me a big hug.
