“A pumpkin spice latte please. No food for me. We’re splitting.”
The waitress jots everything down and promises she’ll be right back with our order, extra plates, and cutlery. In total, we’re about to sample eight different pies. Thank goodness my scrubs have a stretchy waistband.
“Whatever we don’t finish, I’ll take back to the office. Vicki will love it,” I joke.
“That’s thoughtful of you.” Fernando opens a napkin and spreads it on his lap.
“Not really. It’s more that she loves free food.”
“She sounds like some of my coworkers. The high schoolers are always looking for leftovers from the weekend birthday parties.”
We both laugh. Then he excuses himself to use the bathroom.
So he does work with kids. Hmm. What type of job would have insanely early hours and involve teenagers and birthday parties? I stare out the window, watching some of the traffic on Main Street pass by. Could it be a place like Chuck E. Cheese?
My brain conjures an image of Fernando in a giant mouse costume, roller skating around the restaurant from table to table. I shake with silent laughter. As amusing as that is, being the top mouse wouldn’t be a job that pays enough to be a full-time career. Unless he’s a manager or franchise owner. That’s a possibility.
Just as Fernando returns, the waitress rolls up with a small cart holding our desserts. “Here ya’ll are. I have the boysenberry, the pecan, the sweet potato, the peach crumble, the pumpkin, the Dutch apple, the triple berry, and the mince pie.”
My eyes discreetly rove Fernando’s body as he moves his arms, organizing our plates. I take in how his biceps flex and extend through the fabric of his shirt. They’re large enough to impress a Marine sergeant drill instructor. It strikes me that Fernando would fit right in with the buff male vets from the Lake Wakahanra Animal Hospital. Is he actually a vet? Could he have been playing me the entire time to get the inside scoop on my clinic?
“These look delicious! Good call on the pies,” he says, flashing me a schoolboy grin. It’s cheeky and unassuming—the same look he gave me the day we met. My breath hitches. No, he can’t be a spy. I’m positive he didn’t know what to do with his friend’s cat.
“Would you like some whipped cream?” the server asks.
“No, thank you,” Fernando and I both answer at the same time.
“I don’t blame you. If you need anything else, let me know.”
My attention returns to our food. I stare at our selection with wide eyes and wonder if perhaps we are being too ambitious. “I think my eyes might’ve been bigger than my stomach.”
“That problem will be solved once you take a bite of each. Don’t feel like you have to eat all of them, just pick your favorites. The rest, like you said, can go to Vicki or to the teens at work.” Fernando meticulously cuts each slice in half with the precision of a surgeon. “Shall we go from sweet to savory or savory to sweet?”
“Savory to sweet, you neanderthal. Who eats sweet to savory?” I answer without thinking. My hands fly to my mouth. Oops.
“I do.” He winks. “But this time, we’ll do ityour way.” He reaches for the pumpkin first. “On the count of three. Uno. Dos. Tres.”
Our forks slice through the adjoining edges of the pie like putty and I take a small bite. I taste it all, the nutmeg, the cinnamon, the pumpkin puree. It’s a symphony of flavors in my mouth.
“I don’t think I want to eat anything else. This is so good.” I groan, remembering why this dessert is my favorite.
“Then it’s yours.” Fernando scoots the plate closer to me. “You don’t have to sample the others, but it might be fun to.” He takes a sip of water. “I have to agree with you. This is one of the best pumpkin pies I’ve ever had. It’s light and tastes homemade.”
“You might even be able to get the recipe from them,” I tease.
“Maybe.”
We try each of the remaining pieces. Fernando declares he likes the mince best, with the Dutch apple coming in second. We ask the waitress to box up everything else while we sit and finish our favorites.
“So, Ava, I wanted to ask you earlier... I’m curious, why are you skipping your December clinic? Is it too much with Christmas?”
“No.” I set my fork down and sigh. “I’ve been talked into taking a vacation by my sister.”
“Vacation? That’s usually a good thing.” He cocks his head to the side. “You make it sound like a punishment. You clearly work hard. You deserve some time off.”
“A day or two, sure. But two weeks? That would be the longest stretch of time I’ve taken off in... let’s just say a long, long time.”
I flash back to the visits Dylan and I took to every bank in the Central Valley when we were ready to open the place. There were only two institutions willing to offer a start-up loan to two vets who had only just graduated from veterinary school. And only one that offered us an interest rate we could stomach.
