by Susan Sands
“I’m just sorry casserole number two stank up your apartment so badly.”
They shared a laugh at that. But then, it became awkward, because he wanted—no—needed to kiss her then. It was a shared attraction, he was certain, but he didn’t want to blow the moment with more words, so he took a chance and stepped forward, gently putting his fingers gently through her hair at the base of her neck.
He lightly leaned forward and tentatively kissed her, tasting her lips for a brief instant. She didn’t resist. In fact, she surprised him by reaching out, and pulling his face toward her a second time. The pressure of their lips wasn’t so light then, and out of nowhere, as if a magnet had switched on, their bodies were instantly touching: legs, hips, chest, and lips.
Rachel sighed and pressed against him, and then she kissed him again. “This is such a bad idea.”
“It doesn’t feel like a bad idea,” he murmured against her lips.
“I thought I heard you kids coming up the stairs. Oh—my.” Mrs. Wiggins’s eyes widened behind her glasses like an owl’s might. “Well, I guess you two are getting to know one another.”
They sprang apart like busted teenagers.
Rachel’s cheeks were bright red. “Hi, Mrs. Wiggins. We were helping outside with the decorations. I told Sabine you wanted to help with the cookie swap and bake-off. She’s going to find out who’s in charge.”
Mrs. Wiggins wore a half-smiling, but still speculative, expression on her wrinkled face. “Thanks for checking on that, dear,” she said to Rachel.
“Well, I’ll say good night,” Nick said.
“Don’t let me stop you,” Mrs. W said, grinning fully now.
He moved toward his door.
“Did you want the rest of the casserole?” Rachel asked.
“Uh, I’ll get it later, if that’s okay.” He unlocked his door. “Well, good night.”
“Good night,” Rachel said. He could hear the laughter in her voice.
Then, just before he closed the door, he heard Mrs. Wiggins’s exaggerated whisper. “I think he’s embarrassed.”
Rachel said, “I have to admit that I’m pretty embarrassed getting caught kissing my next-door neighbor in the hallway.”
“Oh, nonsense. At least he had the decency to kiss you outside your door like a gentleman.”
Rachel hadn’t thought about that. “I guess so.”
“He’s a nice boy, that doctor. We don’t have fraternizing rules here, so no need to worry. I know what goes on between healthy young people.”
“Mrs. Wiggins!” Rachel couldn’t hide her shock at the older woman’s openly discussing fraternizing.
“Don’t act so shocked. How do you think we all got here, sweetie? S-E-X, that’s how.” She whispered the word loudly.
“Well, we’re not fraternizing, besides dinner and that one kiss, so don’t worry. I’m not looking to get serious or have S-E-X with anyone right now.”
“I’m just saying that if you do, you won’t be in the doghouse with me. He’s a catch, that one. And if you don’t catch him, somebody else might. And I hate to see him go to somebody I don’t approve of.”
“Well, right now I don’t think he’s with anyone else, so you shouldn’t have to worry too much about it. And he’s a full-grown adult, so if it happens, I guess neither one of us can say much about it.”
Mrs. Wiggins patted Rachel’s hand. “Be smart, dear. Just be smart, and if you think the two of you have a shot together, don’t dilly-dally.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks for the talk.”
The woman nodded sagely and headed back down the stairs in her careful, slow manner.
“Good night, Mrs. Wiggins.”
“’Night, dear.”
Rachel turned to go inside her apartment, her face still flushed from horror and shame. Then, she noticed the pie sitting on the table. He’d forgotten about the pie. And there was still football to be watched. Maybe tomorrow.
The window was still opened where they’d aired the place out from the tuna noodle surprise. No hint of the horrible smell remained, and it had gotten chilly inside, so Rachel cranked the window closed, but not before she glanced outside and noticed the transformation tonight’s efforts by the townspeople made. The clear lights shone brightly up and down the main street of Ministry. Rachel leaned to the right and could see the square, where they’d been earlier, all lit up.
If only her life could transform so beautifully and quickly. If only someone like Nick had come here to stay, and Rachel could find the kind of peace and happiness Sabine had with Ben. If it happened for other people, why not her?
Christmas made Rachel believe—believe in magic and miracles. And holding out that kind of hope was dangerous. Because it made those nebulous happily-ever-afters begin to feel real and tangible for people like her—for just a little while, amidst the lights, carols, and stories of Christmas babies and wise men.
As Rachel placed the few dishes in the dishwasher, she wondered what Nick was thinking on the other side of their shared wall. They’d both exposed some sensitive information about themselves to each other tonight. She’d gotten the feeling he wasn’t the type to go around discussing his personal life with just anyone.
She certainly wasn’t the type. In fact, the few times she’d dated the same guy more than a few times, her discomfort with sharing personal details had most certainly been a deterrent in moving forward with relationships. She was slow to trust anyone. Because of her father, and because of Richard, Sabine’s ex-husband.
Making herself vulnerable to someone seemed unwise. Tonight, however, she’d come very close to doing that with a guy she barely knew. But he’d shared too, so it hadn’t felt quite so scary in the moment.
Then, he’d kissed her. Wowza. What a kiss. As far as kisses went, it shouldn’t have affected her that way. His hands hadn’t been touching her anywhere but on the back of her neck and lightly on her face. But her entire body had awakened with only that slight touch. And of course, the touch of his lips on hers.
Her formerly intact lady parts were on high-alert now and screaming at her. Rachel wasn’t happy about that. He’d introduced a physical restlessness, and a desire she’d not experienced in a long time—maybe never.
Then, Mrs. Wiggins had shown up, and as far as Rachel was concerned, saved the day. Rachel wasn’t certain what might have happened next if she hadn’t appeared on the scene. Based on the state of her body’s response to just Nick’s kiss, things might have gotten out of hand. What if he’d actually gotten to second base?
The possibility existed that Rachel would have thrown her legs around his waist and begged him to take her on the floor in the hallway. How humiliating that she couldn’t rule it out.
For all her big talk about it to Sabine, Rachel hadn’t been with a lot of guys, sexually. Rachel hadn’t wanted her sister to worry about her not being well-adjusted or lonely. Making jokes about meeting guys here and there seemed like the thing to do at the time.
Truth was, Rachel understood men thought she was attractive, to the point of being intimidated by her. She’d played on that enough to scare most of them away. Those who were courageous enough to approach her, she typically brushed off with some excuse or other.
She’d had a couple boyfriends in college, but nothing too serious. It just hadn’t worked out.
Chapter Nine
Nick had just finished treating a beastly case of gout in treatment room two. Mr. Davis had allowed the situation to get so far out of control that Nick considered admitting the poor man because he was in so much pain and couldn’t bear any weight on his ankle.
But the farmer promised to take his meds, use the wheelchair for the next week, and stay off the foot. Nick understood how important pushing through pain was when one’s livelihood was at stake, but some of these folks were going to kill themselves in the process. It concerned him how many older folks he’d seen in the last week who just refused to adjust their activity to allow for their age and cond
ition.
Nick was still considering ways to communicate the importance of self-preservation when his reckoning finally came.
She was loud, and she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I want to speak to Doctor Sullivan. He has something that belongs to my momma.”
“Angie, you’re not allowed back here unless you’re a patient. I’ll give him a message.”
Nick heard Candy, the receptionist, try to dissuade someone named Angie.
“You gonna call the cops on me?” the woman sneered. “Thought not.”
The reckoning manifested itself in the form of a tall brunette, with very large hair, in skin-tight jeans, red cowboy boots, and an impressive, uh, chest that was encased in a tight reindeer sweater whose eyes were exactly in the nipple positions, for lack of a better explanation.
She spotted him as soon as she burst through the double doors, with Candy nearly hanging off the woman’s arm, still trying to dissuade her. “So, you’re the snotty piece of shit who can’t be bothered to pick up the phone and return a casserole dish when somebody spends time cooking you a welcome dinner?”
“Excuse me?” Nick was taken aback at the woman’s manner, and, he had to admit, the sweater with the strategically placed reindeer eyeballs. Was she even wearing a bra underneath? It was like a horrible train wreck where one couldn’t look away.
With great effort, Nick dragged his eyes from the shocking scene on the woman’s chest. “I’m sorry. I apologize if I’ve offended you. I don’t think we’ve me. I’m Nick Sullivan.” Nick stuck out his hand.
“I’m Angie Davis.” She narrowed her eyes, but shook his hand anyway. “I’m not used to being ignored, and I don’t appreciate it. Didn’t anybody tell you who I was when I dropped off the tuna noodle casserole?”
He shook his head, but suppressed a shudder at the memory of the smell when they’d broken the cheese seal. “I have your dish ready to return. I figured you’d stop by to pick it up. I’m not used to this custom. It’s not something people do where I’m from. Sorry.” He shrugged.
“Well, anybody with any home training or good sense should realize that when someone leaves a phone number, you should make a call.” Her well-groomed eyebrows shot up, making her point that he had neither.
He walked over to where a variety of casserole dishes were stacked on the counter. He’d been avoiding those phone calls, hoping the containers would magically find their way back home.
“Ah, here it is. Tuna noodle surprise.” Then, he cringed that he said it aloud.
“Why did you call it that? It’s Momma’s special recipe. Are you saying you didn’t like it?” the screamer called Angie demanded.
“I didn’t say that.” He handed over the oval glass dish. “Here you go. Thanks for your kindness. But you can’t be back here if you’re not a patient.” His patience with Angie of the obscene sweater was at an end.
“How dare you? Do you know who I am?”
He tried hard not to roll his eyes.
“Excuse me Dr. Sullivan. You have a patient in treatment room three,” his nurse said.
He took the chart for his next patient as if it had just saved his life. And he nearly kissed Georgie on the mouth.
“Sorry, Angie, was it? We’re in a hospital, and I have a patient. Thanks again for the casserole.” He turned away, and nearly sprinted toward treatment room three.
Not looking back, he was surprised when he opened the door of the exam room and there wasn’t a patient.
“Sorry, Doctor. I thought you needed rescuing. I grabbed a patient’s chart you’d seen earlier. Angie is the sheriff’s daughter. She’s a bully when she doesn’t get her way. Two years ago, she had her cap set for Ben Laroux, like most of the other women in town, and was extremely pissed when he wouldn’t date her.”
“So, do I need to worry about retribution?” he asked, and laughed a little, but wasn’t entirely sure it was a joke.
“Well, I don’t know how much influence she has with her daddy these days, but I hope she doesn’t go home and tell them you insulted her momma’s tuna casserole,” she said. Her expression was filled with empathy, and maybe just a little pity for his situation.
“Oh, shit. All I need is the local sheriff pissed that I insulted his sweet wife’s cooking. You know, a heads-up when the dish came in would have been nice.”
Georgie laughed then. “Then we wouldn’t have had this much entertainment in watching how you handled it. Take it from me, you might want to give the others a call and tell them thanks for the casseroles.”
“What are the expectations that go along with this phone call?”
She shrugged. “This is their shot at an introduction so you’ll notice them. They surely hope it will lead to more. The single women in this town wait for someone like you to show up. When you do, they do what they can to work things in their favor. You really can’t blame them.”
“I’m not here to stay. I’ll be gone by New Year’s.”
“Yes, well, that gives them less than six weeks to change your mind, doesn’t it?” She laughed and stepped out the door, leaving him to ponder her words.
As Rachel worked through editing the remaining shots from Thanksgiving, she stopped short when she came across a full head-shot of Nick, smiling at someone or something. It was unguarded and natural. And undeniably gorgeous. The impression that he was the real deal through her lens lent a credibility to her gut instinct. She trusted her camera lens. It rarely told the lies people did.
His teeth were white and straight, his hazel eyes were clear and devoid of shadows and secrets, though maybe a little regret or sadness lurking in the depths? His face had enough character to lend credibility, his nose was just off-center, as if he’d had it broken as a kid, but not so much that it detracted from his good looks. Rachel stared at the honest photo and secretly hoped he lived up to the ideal she’d captured.
The shot was admittedly such a good professional candid that he might like to have it to frame as a gift for his mother—or someone. Rachel understood how much people appreciated photos of loved ones in this world where objects were so easily purchased and discarded. Good photos were still unique and not easily replaceable.
She loaded high-quality glossy paper in her photo printer, and when she’d completed her software magic, printed out the photo in both color and black-and-white.
He was model-perfect, and the photo was excellent, she had to admit. This was quality enough to grace any magazine spread. Nick might consider a second career in print work if the whole medical thing didn’t work out.
A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought.
“Coming,” she called.
When she opened the door, the same face that was currently on her printer greeted her. “Hi there.”
“Hey. I stopped by to see if we were grounded.”
She laughed. “Actually, quite the opposite. Mrs. Wiggins let me know that she had no rules against fraternization. And she understands what goes on between young people.”
His eyebrows went up. “What goes on?”
“S-E-X.” Rachel whispered it loud like Mrs. Wiggins had.
Nick laughed at that and stepped toward her, wiggling his fingers. “It does? Wow, that’s great.”
She slapped his hands, giggling. “I didn’t say we were having S-E-X.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Aw, well. I have to say, that kiss was pretty major last night. We could do that again.”
“You’re in a mood this evening, aren’t you?” His playfulness had lightened her own attitude.
“It’s you and all your S-E-X talk. Actually, I just got off work, and stopped by to pick up the dish. It’s come to my attention I’ll have to return it.”
“Oh. Okay. Come in. I need to wash it. There’s still half a cheesy-chicken casserole inside. I was going to heat it up. And there’s pie. Have you eaten yet?” No more kissy talk.
“Uh. No. I guess I could eat it again, if you don’t mind my barging in a second night in
a row?”
“You provided the food, so fair is fair.” Rachel was getting all tingly just having him inside her apartment.
He shut the door.
She walked into the kitchen area to take out the food from the fridge, leaving him standing in the other room. “Why do you have a picture of me on your printer?”
Shit. “It was one I took at Thanksgiving. I thought it came out so good you might want to frame it for your mother as a Christmas gift or something.”
He grinned. “Thanks. It’s a nice photo. She’ll like that.”
“Why did you think I had a picture of you sitting on my printer?”
He gave her a sly look. “If I told you, it would sound extremely conceited.”
“Uh-huh. If you’ll notice, I also have one of my brother-in-law with cake on his face and one of my niece, so you’re in good company.”
“Should I go next door and get a bottle of wine?” He changed the subject.
“I’ve got some here. You can get a couple glasses for us.”
He moved into the kitchen and pulled down the glasses from the holder. She pointed to the bottle of corked wine and he brought them to the table.
“So, I have an interesting story to tell you about a lady in a reindeer sweater.”
They sat at the table once the food was hot and ready to serve. “Sounds like a good one. Do tell.”
He regaled a story about Angie Davis, the sheriff’s daughter, sender of the stinky tuna noodle surprise casserole, barging into the hospital with much dramatic flair, sending Rachel into peals of laughter.
“Oh, she did not.”
He pointed to where the reindeer’s big eyeballs were positioned, describing in detail the sweater, and Rachel nearly fell out of her chair. “Stop it! It’s too much!”
“And I might have called it tuna noodle surprise, not realizing my mistake, which led her to believe I wasn’t particularly fond of the dish.”
“You did NOT.” Tears were now rolling down her cheeks.
He nodded, tears of laughter leaking from his own eyes.
Once they’d stopped laughing, Rachel took a sip of her wine. “You’ve done it now, buster.”