With a frustrated huff, I pushed my chair back, spread my legs—because why not go big or go home—and prepared for a little solo expedition.
My fingers had barely begun their,ahem, exploration, when my office door flew open like a horror movie cliché.
Of course, someone had to waltz in now.
LeeAnn McDonald, my future stepmother—a woman whose Southern charm could melt any man—strode in, followed by her daughter, Laurel Dubrovsky, who looked like a startled fawn, and Bailey Montclair, whose expression I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Josephine, it’s time to plan...” LeeAnn began, her voice as smooth as warm honey.
I froze, hand still intimately acquainted with, well, myself, realizing I’d been caught red-handed. Or should I say, red-fingered?
Their eyes widened.
Mine, I suspected, bulged like a startled goldfish. My face, I was sure, blazed with the incandescent heat of a thousand embarrassed suns.
I yanked my hand away with the speed of a caffeinated cheetah, trying to adjust my posture to something vaguely resembling composure.
Too late.
Bailey, bless her sharp eyes, had already witnessed the spectacle.
“Well, well, well,” she drawled, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “Looks like someone’s been having a little fun at work.”
‘Fun’was an understatement of epic proportions. I wanted to spontaneously combust. Or perhaps teleport to a desertedisland populated only by fluffy kittens and unlimited supplies of chocolate.
Laurel tried to suppress a giggle—a giggle that sounded suspiciously like a strangled dolphin. LeeAnn, however, merely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, the silence punctuated only by the subtle whirring of the office air conditioning.
“I... uh...” I stammered, my brain suddenly short-circuiting. “I was... uh... stretching?” I offered, hoping that sounded less ridiculous than it actually was. Clearly, my inner explorer needed a serious lesson in discretion.
“Stretching?” Bailey repeated, her smile widening. “A very... thorough stretch.”
“Josephine,” LeeAnn interrupted, her voice the perfect scandalized Southern Belle, but with a hint of something else—amusement, maybe? Curiosity, possibly? Perhaps she had similar experiences in her younger years. The thought oddly comforted me. “We need to finalize the arrangements for the wedding. And, Josephine, perhaps you could bring a more appropriate level of enthusiasm—unless this new method of stretching is also your secret weapon for planning?”
Laurel finally lost it, bursting into laughter.
I joined her, partly from relief, partly because the absurdity of the situation was overwhelming.
Even LeeAnn cracked a small smile.
“Well, at least it’s efficient,” Bailey quipped, and for the first time, I felt a glimmer of camaraderie amidst the chaos. Perhaps my little self-exploration had unintentionally broken the ice, albeit in a rather unconventional way. And maybe, just maybe, this ‘new stretching technique’ would become our little secret.
After all, who needs a stress ball when you have, well, yourself?
Chapter Ten
George
Sitting at my desk, surrounded by charts that looked suspiciously like abstract art, I heard a knock. Jessica, leaning against the doorframe like a glamorous fifties pin-up model, grinned.
“So, there’s a nasty rumor spreading around town. Word is you’re gonna have a little shadow for the foreseeable future.”
“No, you are,” I muttered, already picturing the miniature Tasmanian devil—Cameron—about to wreak havoc on my perfectly organized clinic. Chaos, my friends, was brewing, and it smelled suspiciously like burned popcorn and adolescent angst.
Jess laughed, a sound like wind chimes made of polished silver. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m still technically on maternity leave. Besides, I already have my own band of misfits to deal with; I’m not taking on another.”
“A thousand dollars.” My offer hung in the air, a shimmering bribe.
She shook her head, her smile widening. “Not for a million bucks.”
