All I Ever Wanted(38)

“Have fun,” I said, but he was already out of earshot. Bowie yipped twice, then began licking his front paw.

“So what were you chatting about with the BTR crew?” Fleur asked.

“Oh, nothing specific. We were just schmoozing,” I said, glancing at her. “We’ll have a real meeting soon, and I’m sure you’ll be in on it.”

“Right.” She gave me a tight smile. While Fleur was a pretty decent coworker, I knew she didn’t like that I was above her in the chain of command. She was five years older than I was, and there wasn’t much of a ladder to climb at Green Mountain.

“Well, Ian, luv, we should push off,” Fleur said. “Mark’ll get all humped up if all of us…” she paused, clearly unable to find a Britishism for her next phrase “…wimp out.” She glanced at me. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be a tosser.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Go on, have fun. Tell Mark I’ll meet you all at the restaurant, okay?”

“Cheerio.” She hopped to her feet. “Let’s go then, Ian, shall we?” she asked, extending her hand. Bowie leaped up, hoping to go as well, as he was more than capable of running up and down this mountain six or eight times without feeling the slightest twinge of fatigue.

Ian turned around from where he was still surveying the view. He looked at me for a long moment. “I’ll stay with Callie,” he said.

“No, no!” I barked. “Go! Off with you! I’m fine.”

Fleur shot me a sharp look. “We really need to catch up, Ian,” she said, her accent evaporating.

“Go on, you two. I’m fine,” I said, trying not to pant (or moan). Gooorrrreeeeccchhh.

“I’ll stay,” he repeated.

“I really, really don’t want you to,” I said firmly.

“I will anyway.” He didn’t move, just stood there, hands in his pockets.

“Please don’t.”

“I am.”

Fleur’s eyes darted back and forth between us. “Well, then, I’ll stay, too. Keep you company, Callie.”

“You go ahead,” Ian said. “It’s your company’s event, after all.”

My alien gave another squirm, and I flinched.

Fleur took a huffy breath. “Well, right-o,” she said. “See you at the base, then.”

“I may have to leave before then,” he said. “I’m on call at the animal hospital tonight.”

Her mouth tightened briefly, but she covered with a quick smile. “Well, I’ll probably see you down there, at any rate. Great! Thanks for staying with poor Callie! You’re a prince.” She made a move toward him, almost like she was going to hug him, but Ian just stood, hands still in his pockets, and Fleur retreated. The sound of her hiking boots faded within seconds.

Ian sat down next to me. “You okay?”

“I’m great, Ian,” I lied. “You don’t need to stay with me.”

“Can I take your pulse?” he asked.

“No. I’m fine. It’s just…I skipped lunch. That’s all. I really don’t need a nurse. Or a vet.”

He didn’t answer, just stared off into the woods, which were lovely, dark and deep, just as Robert Frost said, and unlike the poet, I wouldn’t have minded going to sleep right now.

The only sound was birdsong, the rustle of the wind in the pines and Bowie’s slight snore. The alien seemed to be quieting down (please, God), and the sweet and piney breeze seemed to blow away that sick, foggy feeling bit by bit. My stomach emitted a small groan, but nothing like before.

“Maybe you could eat some grass and throw up,” Ian suggested. “Works for dogs.”

I glanced at him. He was still looking off into the woods, and I studied his craggy profile. “Thanks for the tip,” I said. “I don’t suppose you have any Tums or anything.”

“Sorry,” he said, cutting his eyes to me.

I felt heat rise in my face. Those eyes were startlingly direct. “So, are you from around here, Ian?” I asked.

“I moved here from Burlington two months ago,” he said.

“Where’d you grow up?”

He looked back into the woods. “All over.”

“Army brat?” I guessed.

“No.” He didn’t elaborate.

“So,” I said after realizing he was done with that subject. “Fleur invited you to our little thing.”

“Yes,” he said, reaching down to pet Bowie, whose tail thumped appreciatively. “I was under the impression that it was more of a town-sponsored thing. Open to the public.”

“Oh. Well, sorry for ruining it for you,” I murmured.

“I can’t believe anyone would buy something called Cleanse ’n Purge,” he commented, raising an eyebrow.

Ah, dang it. Humiliation and me—no bounds. “Bowie, would you please bite Dr. McFarland?”

Bowie rolled onto his back. Here’s my stomach, in case anyone’s in a scratching mood, he was clearly saying. I obliged, since I couldn’t think of anything else to do.

My GI distress seemed to have subsided. “I should probably head down,” I said. “I’m feeling better. Thanks for waiting. You can join the others.”