Page 2 of Talk Wicked to Me

Baz scoffed at what the women around town called him behind his back. Husband material. What did that even mean? That he was successful? Good-looking? A protective biker? So were plenty of other guys. He didn’t consider himself special by any means. “Just because I have things I want to accomplish before I settle down doesn’t mean I have commitment issues.” He averted his gaze with that bald-faced lie.

“We know,” Tori said. “Your beloved trip.”

“Which you totally deserve,” Evie said in his defense. “I’ve been telling you to take it for years. I’m just going to miss my bestie.” She put her arms around him. “And my bait.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Eves, but it’s only June, and I’m not leaving until September. I’m sure you can find a guy before then, if that’s what you want. Hell, we’ll be at the Hog tonight.” They were meeting Gunner and his now wife, Sid, and some of his cousins there.

She stepped back. “Good point. I’ll just have to up my game.”

“As fun as this convo is, I did come in here for a reason,” Tori said. “Dr. Quinton Anthony is here for his interview.”

“Isn’t he the guy you know from vet school?” Evie asked.

“Yeah. I’ve got high hopes that this’ll work out.”

“Tori, what’s he like?” Evie asked.

Tori’s brows lifted. “Refreshingly nice. Like a tall glass of champagne, and I didn’t see a…cork.”

Baz shook his head. “She asked what he was like, not if he was hot and single.” He gave Evie a disapproving look. “I haven’t seen him for a few years, but back then all the girls called him Shemar because he looked like Shemar Moore.”

“Yes! He totally does,” Tori confirmed. “Why didn’t I think of that? He’s a dead ringer for the guy.”

Evie hiked a thumb over her shoulder, walking backward toward the door. “I need to get something from the lobby.”

“Behave,” he said as the girls walked out, whispering like co-conspirators.

He cleared off his desk before going to greet his old friend, and found Quinton talking with Evie. He hadn’t changed much. He still had the same short hair and chiseled features, though his eyes were wiser, just as Baz imagined his own were. Life had not always been pretty.

“Hey, Baz,” Evie said lightly, eyes glittering with interest. “I was just giving Quinton the rundown on the practice. I’ll leave you two to chat. It was nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Quinton said with a nod and a friendly smile.

Baz didn’t miss their lingering attention on each other. “Thanks, Evie.” He extended his hand to his old friend, who stood eye-to-eye with him at six-plus feet. “Good to see you, Quint.”

“You as well.” He shook Baz’s hand. “It’s been a while, but you look the same, with more ink.” He nodded at Baz’s tattoos. “You always said you wouldn’t cut your hair for a job.”

“And you always gave me shit for it.” He raked a hand through his longish dirty-blond hair. “Why don’t we go back to my office and talk.”

An hour later, when he walked Quinton out, Tori and Evie had their bags in hand, ready to leave for the day. The second he was out the door, Evie said, “So? Is he as awesome as his clients say he is?”

“How do you know what his clients say about him?”

“She googled him,” Tori offered.

“He’s got a great reputation,” Evie said. “He’s also a lot easier to talk to than the woman you interviewed earlier this week. Did you uncover any skeletons when you were talking with him?”

“No. He’s a solid candidate.”

“Do you want me to cancel next week’s interviews?” Tori asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” Evie asked. “Clients will love him, and you just said he’s a good candidate.”

“Because this is a major decision, and I want to see everyone we’ve lined up. That’ll give me time to check out his references and do some other—”

The front door flew open, and a dog barreled in, followed by a very pregnant woman. She was speaking a mile a minute as her dog, which had the markings of a heeler and the face and ears of a Staffy, barked and jumped up on him. “I’m sorry to barge in like this, but I was getting gas and totally forgot I put a chocolate chip cookie in the cup holder, and when I got back in the car, Ollie had it in his mouth. Ollie, shush.” She yanked the leash, but the dog jumped right back up on him. “I tried to get it away from him, but he ate half of it, and the other half broke off in my hand and all over the passenger seat. I tried to pick up the pieces before he ate them, but he’s a fast rascal, and I was stuck behind the steering wheel.” She looked at her stomach. “Obviously, right? Ollie, no.” She tugged the dog back down, speaking over his barking, “It was only one cookie, but I know chocolate isn’t good for dogs. Is there any chance you can check him out? I don’t know why he’s jumping up so much. He never does that. Well, he does, but—”