More Than a Hotline Fling

-27-

Juneau's POV

February turned into March, which marked two celebratory events. First, I clicked my last online VTNE answer and, one 710 score later, earned my vet tech certification. Considering 425 was passing and 800 the max, I sat back in Damian's office chair with my mouth hanging open. Pride swelled up in my chest for a full five minutes.

I... did it!

The three-hour, 170 multiple-choice exam ended up being the easiest exam I'd ever taken. The exam itself wasn't easy and required two hours of studying per day for the last twenty days straight. Piles of flash cards lived all over our condo, at work, and in my purse. But all the definitions, abbreviations, and measurements were applicable to work - pharmacy and pharmacology, dentistry, lab procedures, diagnostic imaging, surgical nursing, animal care and nursing, pain management/analgesia, and emergency medical/critical care.

For the first time I remembered... school was interesting.

That said, I was relieved to be done. Online classes were efficient and flexible but lacked a human interaction factor. My professors posted lectures and answered questions in more of a chatbot exchange.

Unlike CCNY, my cert program involved a congratulatory email and stamped version mailed in lieu of a graduation ceremony. But this achievement was even better, more intimate.

Maybe because, for the first time, it's tied to what I want to do.

Whatever the reason, Damian took off early, burst through the door, and announced, "We're celebrating. Get your coat."

With tricks from my hands to nipples, I tried to convince him for a different, at-home celebration, but he refused.

For once. Is he sick?

The bulge in his pants agreed with me, but he ignored both of us. Not even a reach-around feel on his bike persuaded him. Not until he drove us to a restaurant did I remember that -

"Happy Birthday!!"

Damian's warm breath fanned over the shell of my ear, followed by a soft press of his lips on the side of my head. "Thought you needed a celebration."

Damian was right; all I'd done for the past six weeks was study, show marginal improvements with self-defense, squeak every time I fired a gun, and unsuccessfully calmed Luca's squeamishness about vet procedures.

"Oh gosh." I buried my warm cheek in his shoulder.

His warm chuckle muffled in my hair, followed by his deep voice, "Happy Birthday."

The uplifted corners of his mouth and sparkle in his eyes revealed his sneakiness. I looked away and my mouth dropped open at Adam's smirk.

"I just talked to you!" I accused him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "You didn't say a peep."

"And it was really, fucking hard." He squeezed back. "Until Vaughn got home."

He had to add that part.

"Terrible," I mumbled and hugged the restrained one of the pair. "Hi Vaughn."

"Say the word and I can punish him for that," he teased in my ear. "Happy Birthday, Juneau."

Pulling back, I dragged my eyes over his appearance. "You look... tan!"

The rest of us were as pale as the snow that lingered, but his skin wore a gleaming, tanned glow.

"Southern Italy," he reminded me. "I got back two days ago."

"And you," I choked out as Celia's pale arms strangled my neck and belly bumped my navel. "Good to see you."