Jameson groans when he hears the call we’re about to go on. I slap his shoulder on my way to hop into the rig. “Guess you got a hot date, don’t you?”
He clenches his jaw before joining us. I almost think he’s going to refuse to drive us to Margaret’s house, but he wouldn’t do that.
The older woman has a hard on for Jameson and has for years. She calls with the most ridiculous scenarios just to get us to come by so she can see our Captain, the town’s golden boy.
The rest of us usually end up having to stand back and let Jameson deal with her because she will just get snarky with anyone else. Or she’ll yell because that’s what happened last time when I tried to tell her she doesn’t need to call 911 for a paper cut. Yes, that really happened.
My ear was ringing for the rest of my shift after that. I’m not saying anything again; someone else can have that job today. It would take a lot to take away the joy I’m feeling since my life is pretty close to perfect for the first time in a long time.
The only thing that could make it better would be Franki actually liking me. I’m getting tired of my hands burning every time I use hand sanitizer from all the bite and scratch marks covering them.
We hop out of the truck, Jo, Dave, and I hanging back while Jameson knocks on the front door. He did try to convince one of us to do it, but that wasn’t going to happen. It’s not our fault the woman is obsessed with him; he has to deal with his stalker himself.
She opens the door, beaming at Jameson, and I can’t help myself as I put my hands together, under my chin, and pretending to swoon. Until Jo smacks my arm. “Knock it off, be professional.”
“You’re no fun,” I complain.
“You’re a child.”
“I’m twenty-five.”
“You act five.”
“Good thing you’re not my mom.”
“You would hate for me to be your mom.”
“Hey, you done?” Jameson calls out, gesturing his head toward the open door for us to follow. Margaret isn’t standingthere anymore, so I assume she went somewhere she wants us to follow.
Or should I say, wants Jameson to follow. I think she would prefer if the rest of us weren’t here.
We step inside and turns out one of her cats managed to get a fish out of the tank and won’t let it go. It’s just sitting on the counter next to the tank with a fish tail peeking out of its mouth.
“Uh, what do you expect us to do here?” I ask.
“Help him,” Margaret snaps at me.
“The cat or the fish?” I try to bite back a laugh. Jo slaps the back of her hand against my chest.
Margaret looks up to Jameson. “I don’t like that one.”
“Margaret, we aren’t veterinarians, I’m not entirely sure how you want us to help.” Jameson’s tone is firm, but still friendly because I don’t think he knows how to be any other way.
“You don’t need to be a veterinarian to help.” She bats her eyes, and this time it’s much harder for me to hide my laughter.
“You’re right.” Jameson smiles, turning toward me so my own falls off my face very quickly. “Parker is a cat expert, he can help.”
Margaret furrows her brows. “The annoying one?”
My jaw drops, “Wha?—”
“Yup, he’s the one.” He smiles.
I sigh, dropping my shoulders, and prepare to work a miracle, I guess.
Approaching the cat, he looks at me skeptically. I’m pretty sure the fish in his mouth is no longer alive, but don’t say that.
I keep my voice low. “Just drop the fish, then we all can leave.”