Dr. Stud

I can see the tension in her shoulders as she hunches over, muttering to herself. She’s got on a cotton dress that looks like something my aunt would’ve worn. It’s tied at the waist and flared around the knees, old-fashioned and supremely feminine. I love the way that it both highlights her figure as well as her strength, giving her the room to move and manage things, or room to swish her hips as she walks away. Her choice.

“Sometimes these old doors swell with the heat,” I explain, trying to keep my voice friendly.

I’m not sure why she is so skittish, but I don’t want to scare her off just yet. It’s been kind of a while since I’ve seen a new face in town. While Jupiter and Naples have been growing like crazy, the boom hasn’t quite reached our little hamlet just yet. I hear it’s just a matter of time, but I sort of hope that I am old and mostly dead by then. I like things here just the way they are.

“Look, if you’ll just let me—”

“Buzz off!” she hisses, twisting around.

Her expression is serious and focused, like this is not the first time she’s had to bare her fangs to make her point. I take a step back, careful to show her I mean her no harm.

“All right, settle down now,” I murmur low like she’s a wild horse or something. “I’ll just be over here if you need some assistance.”

Blowing her breath out through her cheeks, she turns back to the door and plunges another key into the old brass lock. After some enthusiastic jiggling, it does turn and the door swings wildly inward, carrying her along with it. She disappears into the gloom with the sound of her heels echoing on the old wooden floorboards.

I take the handle of her suitcase and carry it over the threshold automatically, depositing it next to the umbrella stand.

“What do you think you’re doing with that?” she snaps.

My eyebrows go up. “Your suitcase? Carrying it inside for you?”

She pouts and wiggles her fingers in the air as though brushing her thoughts aside.

“Oh,” she huffs. “Well, thank you.”

Amused, I take a couple of steps into the shop. This used to be the hat shop, I think, though it has been closed for quite a while. The woman who owned it passed on some time ago, and her family moved to Chicago. I guess they didn’t really give it much of a thought until recently. Out of sight, out of mind.

The woman paces the perimeter, shaking her head every few seconds like she’s upset at what she sees. I’m not sure what she was expecting. It’s just a dusty old shop, after all. Is that a surprise somehow?

“Is this your first time in Willowdale?” I call out.

I’m not sure why I am trying to make conversation with this obviously irritable person, but I am. She doesn’t answer right away, but twists the old knob on the office door until it comes off in her hand. The door swings open anyway, releasing a gust of musty air.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” she snarls.

Her hands rise and then fall, slapping against her thighs. For some reason, I find that sound stupidly exciting. It’s the sound my palm would make against her round, naughty bottom.

“What seems to be the problem?” I ask as an excuse to walk up behind her.

Ostensibly I am looking over her shoulder to check out the office, but really I am just aligning the front of my body to the back of hers. It’s a good fit. Static electricity sizzles between us.

“This is all supposed to be finished already!” she mutters.

When she crosses her arms over her chest I can see the muscles flexing in her shoulders. She is awfully tense.

“Finished, how?” I ask, my voice suddenly dry.

She whirls around on her heel and squints at me suspiciously.

“Can I help you with something? Are you supposed to be here?”

I back away, hands up, noticing the electrical impulses strung between us like Christmas lights flickering.

“I was just making sure you’re all right,” I assure her.

I’m not sure I’ve ever met somebody so defensive and prickly right off the bat. It kind of makes me want to chase her, like a cat wants to chase the mouse that most wants to run away.

“I’m absolutely fine,” she huffs, practically shoving me through the front door.