Read Online My Funny Valentine (Pajaro Bay Series Book 4) by Barbara Cool Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Barbara Cool Lee
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nickname if you don't want the TV to land on your foot," Clint said quietly.
"Don't be so sensitive, Clint," Trip said, still grinning. "Can't you take a joke? Stop whining and push on your end."
Clint did, and the TV slid into the bed of the Jeep, between a surfboard and a box of Mrs. Anderson's china.
"She needs all this at the nursing home?" Clint asked.
Trip wiped his hands on his jeans. "Yeah, she wanted the stuff. So hey, what the old broad wants, she gets. Gotta keep my inheritance safe." He laughed like he was being funny.
"Yeah. Whatever," Clint said. He turned to go, then asked, "so how's she doing? I'm going to visit her next week, once I get the all-clear from the doctor."
"What do you mean, the all-clear?"
"I don't want to give her my flu, you know."
"Oh. Well, you don't need to go see her. She doesn't need anything."
"Well, she might need some cheering up."
"No!" Trip said. "You wanna give her your cold? What are you, an idiot?"
Clint thought of pointing out that he'd graduated top of his law school class, while Trip had supposedly been expelled in the eleventh grade. But he held his tongue.
Clint started away again, and then, because he couldn't help himself, said, "and Cassidy? How's she been?"
"Dunno," Trip said eloquently. "I dumped her."
"You dumped her?!" Clint immediately regretted the shock that was obvious in his voice, because Trip grinned.
"I know you gotta crush on her Ham-Boy, but it's not like she was ever going to go for you."
"You never know," Clint said quietly.
Trip gave a pointed look at him, from the wrinkled scar on his forehead, past the gray tee shirt with a hole in it, past his sweat pants, and on to his feet. "You're wearing two different colored socks, Ham-Boy."
Clint looked down at his feet. He was wearing a blue sock and a gray one with his Tevas. "Whatever," he said. Okay, so he didn't lounge around his house in designer duds. He hadn't thought she was the type to care about that. But maybe he was wrong. She must have seen something in Trip. "So why did you break up with her?" he asked.
"I had to let her go. She was cramping my style. She was just too needy."
Clint pictured the tall, confident, quick-witted young woman with the killer figure, the glossy black hair, and the intelligent brown eyes. "Needy. Right."
Trip headed back toward his aunt's house. Not surprisingly, he forgot to say thank you for the help.
Clint just shrugged. "Say hi to your aunt when you give her the TV."
"Yeah, sure," Trip said, went inside.
Clint trudged away across the wet lawn toward his own house.
----
" G ot a minute , Dr. Trujillo?"
Cassidy looked up from the reception desk to see a slight woman with unruly black curls poking her head in the veterinary clinic's front door.
"Of course, Mrs. Madrigal," she said. "Haven't had a customer all morning. I imagine people are out celebrating Valentine's Day with their loved ones."
The woman came all the way in the door. "Yeah, Kyle and I have a date night planned for later. What about you?"
Cassie shook her head. "No plans." Then, realizing she sounded curt, she added, "Probably grab a pizza or something and watch a movie. So what brings you here, Mrs. Madrigal?"
"Call me Hallie, remember?" Then she stared at Cassidy's face, and Cassie felt self-conscious all of a sudden.
"Of course I remember. Hallie." Cassidy rubbed her cheek, where from the pointed look Hallie was giving her, the bruise must be showing through her makeup. "So what's up?"
"My namesake's not too happy." She glanced down.
Cassidy stood up so she could see over the desk. Hallie was holding a pink plastic cat carrier. "Your namesake? Oh, the Halloween cat. She was fine on Tuesday when I updated her shots."
"Well, she's got a problem now."
"So what's her complaint?" She could see the orange, black and white calico glaring through the bars of her pink prison.
"I think she must have gotten her claw caught on one of the rugs. It's bleeding and I hope she hasn't torn
"Don't be so sensitive, Clint," Trip said, still grinning. "Can't you take a joke? Stop whining and push on your end."
Clint did, and the TV slid into the bed of the Jeep, between a surfboard and a box of Mrs. Anderson's china.
"She needs all this at the nursing home?" Clint asked.
Trip wiped his hands on his jeans. "Yeah, she wanted the stuff. So hey, what the old broad wants, she gets. Gotta keep my inheritance safe." He laughed like he was being funny.
"Yeah. Whatever," Clint said. He turned to go, then asked, "so how's she doing? I'm going to visit her next week, once I get the all-clear from the doctor."
"What do you mean, the all-clear?"
"I don't want to give her my flu, you know."
"Oh. Well, you don't need to go see her. She doesn't need anything."
"Well, she might need some cheering up."
"No!" Trip said. "You wanna give her your cold? What are you, an idiot?"
Clint thought of pointing out that he'd graduated top of his law school class, while Trip had supposedly been expelled in the eleventh grade. But he held his tongue.
Clint started away again, and then, because he couldn't help himself, said, "and Cassidy? How's she been?"
"Dunno," Trip said eloquently. "I dumped her."
"You dumped her?!" Clint immediately regretted the shock that was obvious in his voice, because Trip grinned.
"I know you gotta crush on her Ham-Boy, but it's not like she was ever going to go for you."
"You never know," Clint said quietly.
Trip gave a pointed look at him, from the wrinkled scar on his forehead, past the gray tee shirt with a hole in it, past his sweat pants, and on to his feet. "You're wearing two different colored socks, Ham-Boy."
Clint looked down at his feet. He was wearing a blue sock and a gray one with his Tevas. "Whatever," he said. Okay, so he didn't lounge around his house in designer duds. He hadn't thought she was the type to care about that. But maybe he was wrong. She must have seen something in Trip. "So why did you break up with her?" he asked.
"I had to let her go. She was cramping my style. She was just too needy."
Clint pictured the tall, confident, quick-witted young woman with the killer figure, the glossy black hair, and the intelligent brown eyes. "Needy. Right."
Trip headed back toward his aunt's house. Not surprisingly, he forgot to say thank you for the help.
Clint just shrugged. "Say hi to your aunt when you give her the TV."
"Yeah, sure," Trip said, went inside.
Clint trudged away across the wet lawn toward his own house.
----
" G ot a minute , Dr. Trujillo?"
Cassidy looked up from the reception desk to see a slight woman with unruly black curls poking her head in the veterinary clinic's front door.
"Of course, Mrs. Madrigal," she said. "Haven't had a customer all morning. I imagine people are out celebrating Valentine's Day with their loved ones."
The woman came all the way in the door. "Yeah, Kyle and I have a date night planned for later. What about you?"
Cassie shook her head. "No plans." Then, realizing she sounded curt, she added, "Probably grab a pizza or something and watch a movie. So what brings you here, Mrs. Madrigal?"
"Call me Hallie, remember?" Then she stared at Cassidy's face, and Cassie felt self-conscious all of a sudden.
"Of course I remember. Hallie." Cassidy rubbed her cheek, where from the pointed look Hallie was giving her, the bruise must be showing through her makeup. "So what's up?"
"My namesake's not too happy." She glanced down.
Cassidy stood up so she could see over the desk. Hallie was holding a pink plastic cat carrier. "Your namesake? Oh, the Halloween cat. She was fine on Tuesday when I updated her shots."
"Well, she's got a problem now."
"So what's her complaint?" She could see the orange, black and white calico glaring through the bars of her pink prison.
"I think she must have gotten her claw caught on one of the rugs. It's bleeding and I hope she hasn't torn
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