“Where does she live now?”
“Scottsdale with her parents.”
“Maybe you should go see her. Do you want to go see her?”
They stepped into the elevator. “Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you said I could ask you anything.”
Easing his head back against the elevator wall, he closed his eyes on a heavy sigh. “I don’t know.”
Jones looked up, cocking his head.
“Why did you get Jones for me?”
Luke’s brow furrowed then he opened his eyes.
“I thought you’d like him.”
Jones shifted his head tilt to the opposite side. Jessica puckered her lips and blew him a kiss. “Don’t worry, Jonesy, I love you.”
The elevator door opened. Jessica and Jones followed Luke into the condo.
“So you, who thrives on order and cleanliness, just thought, ‘Hey, I think I’ll get Jessica a puppy,’ for no particular reason?”
“Why are you asking me this a month later?” He grabbed a Heineken from the refrigerator.
Luke drinking before noon gave her an uneasy feeling. “It’s crossed my mind quite a bit, especially since you call him ‘mutt’ and I think he’s given you a few gray hairs.”
“Maybe I wanted you to stop calling me Jones.”
She hopped up on the counter. “I don’t buy that.”
A long pull of beer bought him time to reply. “Dogs can be therapeutic.”
“Jones is part of my therapy?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“You’ve referred to yourself as a monster. Jones brings out your nurturing side. Monsters don’t nurture.”
“So it was a test to see if I’m truly a monster?”
Luke shook his head. “Yes,” he answered, thick with sarcasm.
“Tell me about Francesca.”
Chuckling, he set his beer onto the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re asking a lot of random questions today.”
“I’m not. They’re all about you. I’m just trying to figure out how you tick. It’s my turn to ‘study’ you. That’s not random. Besides, ‘Tell me about Francesca,’ is not a question.”
“What do you want to know?”
“My God, Dr. Jones … you’d make a terrible patient.”
Talking about Francesca evidently required a second beer. Jessica frowned while he retrieved another one from the refrigerator.
“I saved Fran from a burning building.”
The pads of her fingers drummed her lower lip, eyes wide. She laughed but it came out as a cough. “You’re joking.”
“It was my sophomore year of undergrad while I was still a volunteer firefighter. She lived with three other girls in a rundown apartment building. There had been a party in the apartment below them. Someone fell asleep or passed out before putting out their cigarette. Her friends were all out of the building by the time we arrived, but Fran went back for her fish.” He shook his head. “A fucking gold fish in a bowl of water.”
“And you saved her?”
“And the fish from the third floor window. The next week she dropped off a cookie bouquet at the fire station to ‘her hero.’”
“So you ended up dating.” Hearing every little detail felt unnecessary and a bit more nauseating than she anticipated.
“For a year before I proposed.”
Of course she wanted to know how he proposed. Did he get down on one knee or two?
“What did she do?”
“She said yes.”
“No. Her profession.”
“Oh, she was in school, too, at the time. She became a court interpreter.”
“Long hours. Stressful job.”
Staring at the label of his beer, he nodded.
“Who broke off the engagement?”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’m not sure.”
That answer fizzled her desire to know anymore at that point.
“We didn’t get our run in, so I might go for a bike ride. You want to come?”
“No more questions?” He finished the second bottle of beer.
The beer chugger before her looked like Luke, but his actions were that of someone much different—someone teetering on the edge of control. But why?
“No. But if you need to talk I’m always ready to listen.”
Beer number three. Jessica declared it an official what-the-fuck moment.
“How emasculating of you to my manhood and my profession.”
“How sexist of you to assume only men can listen when by nature your gender practices selective hearing ninety percent of the time. And if you’re wanting to flash your doctor badge, I suggest you first do some inner reflection as to why you’re on your third beer before noon in less than an hour after finding out your ex-fiancée needs a heart transplant.”
The impromptu speech filled with valid points did not deter Luke as he popped the top to another beer.
“Take care of my puppy. I’m going for a ride.”
Chapter Eighteen
Knight
The list of things that could top being fucked by Jackson Knight against a refrigerator was short. The birth of Maddie held the number one spot, refrigerator sex sat at number two. The fact that there were only two events on Ryn’s Life’s Best Moment’s List seemed pathetic. Dwelling over the sleepy details of her life was a waste of time. As she sat in her car, checking her makeup one last time, the past didn’t matter. It only took forty years to be that girl—the one who got the guy that everyone else wanted.