by Gina Wilkins
Joining the group preparing to play, Haley noticed that “Margo the Magnificent,” as she and Anne had dubbed their class president, was staying far away from the playing field. Margo was as immaculately dressed as always, not a bleached hair out of place, as she moved through the crowd accepting accolades for how well the event had turned out. Though Haley was well aware Margo had done little more than assign responsibilities to others in the class, she didn’t resent the attention the other woman received. Margo really was an exceptional student; delegation was just one of Margo’s many talents, she thought with a wry smile.
The study group made sure they were on the same team, though Anne was content to stay on the bench most of the time. Mia and Alexis stood on the sidelines, clapping and cheering when Connor—the former high school coach—made impressive plays. It got pretty silly—partially because everyone was enjoying a rare day of play and relaxation and partially due to the beer that had flowed so freely that afternoon. Haley hadn’t laughed so much in a long time.
At one point, she found the ball in her hands. While she wondered how she’d ended up with it, her teammates screamed at her to run for the makeshift goal line. She ran. Her teammates surrounded her, blocking the other team’s attempts to stop her. Giggling, she evaded an outstretched hand. Ron threw himself on the ground behind her, tripping anyone who tried to get past him.
“Go, Haley! Save yourself!” he shouted dramatically.
Laughing, she crossed the goal line.
Since no one had actually been keeping score, she had no idea if her touchdown put their team ahead, but they celebrated, anyway.
“Let’s see your TD dance,” Ron ordered, brushing grass from his red shirt as he ran toward her.
Grinning, she wiggled her hips a little.
Ron blew a raspberry in disgust. “That’s not a victory dance. This is a victory dance.”
Swinging his arms wildly, he mimicked a pro football player’s touchdown celebration, adding a few flourishes of his own. After tossing the football to someone else, she punched Ron’s arm. “You are such a ham.”
He threw the oft-abused arm loosely around her shoulders, giving her a hug that might have been almost brotherly, except for the way it made her heart race. Her face was flushed when he dropped his arm and turned to answer something Connor said. She hoped everyone would blame that on the exertion of the game.
Turning toward the drinks table, she found herself face-to-face with Anne, who was studying her much too closely for comfort.
She glanced around at her other friends and classmates, wondering how many were speculating about whatever might be developing between her and Ron. Or was she only imagining that anyone thought about them at all?
This was getting much too complicated. And if she had any sense at all, she’d put a stop to it now, before she and Ron strayed any deeper into dangerous waters. But something told her she was already caught in a current that she wouldn’t escape completely unscathed.
She busied herself with clearing away the remains of the party, trying to push any musings about Ron to the back of her mind for now. But like the man, himself, her thoughts of him had a way of grabbing and holding her full attention.
Ron knew by his second week on the children’s hematology and oncology ward that he’d found his medical calling. He was fascinated by the practice, though he didn’t immediately tell anyone he wanted to continue in it. More than a few people would be surprised if he expressed an interest in that specialty, he theorized as he sat in a hospital coffee shop late Thursday afternoon, nursing a cappuccino and biscotti and contemplating his future. Pedi hem-onc was a challenging and competitive specialty, requiring a great deal of dedication, meticulous attention to detail, and total commitment—none of which he was known for to this point.
Yet still he could see himself in the practice. He liked the fact that the hem-onc doctors developed one-on-one relationships with their patients. That they had so much interaction with the families. That they had the opportunity to provide futures for children diagnosed with potentially devastating diseases.
The children’s suffering and their parents’ anguish were heart wrenching. He’d already lost one brave little patient; a sweet-faced little girl had quietly slipped away Monday afternoon while her parents, the attending, the resident and Ron had been present. He’d thought of Haley’s grief over her Mr. Eddington as he’d fought tears of his own in the solitude of his apartment that evening. You couldn’t take it home with you—but as she’d said, it would require a heart of stone not to be affected by the human tragedies physicians dealt with on a daily basis. He never wanted to get to a point where such a sad loss didn’t disturb him at all.
Still, for every loss there were many success stories. Children who left the hospital with long, healthy futures ahead of them, thanks to rapidly developing advances in modern medicine. Teenagers who would attend their proms, attain their driver’s licenses, fall in love and have children of their own.
He wanted to be a part of that field. And yet he still had to get through more rotations, more shelf exams, the two-part, second step of the national licensure exam, residency applications and interviews, the uncertain wait to be accepted into one of those exclusive residency programs. So many pitfalls ahead of him, any of which could derail his dreams.
He knew how Haley would respond if he said something along that line to her. She’d go directly into cheerleader mode, assuring him that he could succeed at anything, bolstering his ego with pithy pep talks and cheery platitudes. She’d mean every word of it, of course; optimism was as much a part of Haley’s true nature as cynicism was of his. If she had any doubts about his suitability for that specialty—and he suspected she would—she would keep them well hidden.
As if he’d subconsciously called her to him by thinking of her, she walked into the coffee shop, pausing only a moment when she saw him sitting alone at a tiny table for two. She ordered a coffee and a fruit-and-yogurt cup, then carried them over to join him.
Because she was on the pulmonology ward while he worked hem-onc, they had seen each other only in passing during the ten days that had passed since the tailgate party. Even those few days apart had made him miss her. He savored the sight of her in her blue top and dark pants beneath the white coat she kept so snowy white and immaculately pressed. A navy band held her tidy bob in place, keeping her hair out of her lightly made-up face. Haley didn’t fuss with her appearance the way Margo and some of the others did, but she always looked fresh and pretty. Ron much preferred that particular look.
Automatically, he smoothed a hand over his own clean but slightly rumpled white coat and wrinkled khaki slacks when she walked toward him.
“How’s it going?” she asked as she slipped into the tiny, round-seated metal chair on the other side of the table.
“Not bad. You?”
She smiled. “Same. I missed lunch today. I needed a snack to get me through the rest of the afternoon.”
“I had a quick lunch, but I’m killing half an hour while I wait for a meeting with my resident.”
Dipping a plastic spoon into her yogurt, Haley laughed softly. “We always seem to be eating something when we’re together.”
He leaned back in his chair and grinned. “That’s the med student’s life. Long hours, little sleep and grab-food-when-you-get-the-chance.”
“I guess that’s true. At least this year’s not nearly as bad as last year. Though Anne warned me the surgery rotation is exhausting.”
“James said the same about ob-gyn. He’s definitely not going into that field.”
“Has he decided yet what he does want to do?”
“Not as far as he’s mentioned. You’re still set on psychiatry?”
“At the moment. Still liking peds now that you’re actually seeing it first hand?”
“Very much.” He wouldn’t mention just then that he was flirting with the idea of a hem-onc specialty. She probably figured he was considering general pediatrics.
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She nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me. You’re so good with kids. You’ll be a wonderful pediatrician, if that’s what you decide to pursue.”
Two minutes into their conversation, he thought with a smothered smile. It never took her long to work in a pep talk. Though there had been a time when he’d been irked by her relentless encouragement—when he’d been at his lowest in self-confidence—he found it rather endearing now. But he could say that about most of Haley’s little quirks.
He was gradually arriving at the realization that the ailing Ms. McMillan had been a very wise woman.
“I’ve barely seen you since the tailgate party,” he commented.
“I know. With the hours we put in here and being on call occasionally and studying for each day’s lecture, there just hasn’t been much free time.”
“The tailgate party was a big success. Everyone’s talked about how much fun they had. You did a great job.”
She beamed in pleasure at the compliment. “Thanks. I thought it went well. We’re working on planning the Halloween party now. I hope that goes as well.”
The annual Halloween party was always a success. A joint venture between the schools of medicine and law, it involved lots of wild costumes and free-flowing beverages. Ron had skipped out his freshman year in favor of studying with all the group except Connor, who’d taken Alexis trick-or-treating that night, but Ron had attended last year’s bash. Dressed as a jar of cotton swabs—which had involved many cotton balls stuck in his hair and an aluminum “lid” for a topping—he’d had a good time. The only downside had been watching Haley attend with a date.
It hadn’t been Kris; that had been a few months before she’d started dating him. She’d attended the party with a law student who lived in the same apartment complex as her. Though it was obvious that there was nothing serious going on between them, Ron still hadn’t been particularly pleased to watch her dancing with the other man, and that had been before he’d acknowledged even to himself that he had special feelings for Haley. She’d looked so darned pretty in a Cleopatra costume that had revealed intriguing slices of creamy skin—not too much, but enough to get his imagination going. Her companion had been decked out as Julius Caesar. Ron hadn’t cared for the guy, though he hadn’t disliked him as much as he had Kris.
Because he didn’t want to go through that again, he said on impulse, “Maybe you and I could go to the Halloween bash together? I know it’s almost six weeks away, but we could use the time to come up with some fun costume ideas.”
Her long lashes swept downward, hiding her eyes as she toyed with her snack. “Like you said, it’s six weeks away. It sort of depends on what our schedules are like then. One or both of us could end up on call.”
Frowning, he asked himself if that was a brush-off. A way for her to let him know she wasn’t interested in attending the party with him.
He felt ridiculously like a smitten schoolboy, trying to read her expression, trying to keep his cool—and his ego—intact while still angling for a date with her. He couldn’t say he cared for being in that situation at his age.
“Yeah,” he said, trying not to speak too curtly. “It all depends, of course.”
She raised her gaze to his face, and the anxious look in her eyes told him that she worried she’d hurt his feelings. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d be happy to go to the party with you if our schedules allow. It sounds like fun. Maybe the whole gang can get together that night. Anne and Liam and James and whoever he wants to bring, if anyone. Maybe Connor and Mia can join us after they take Alexis trick-or-treating. Our party usually starts after kids are in bed.”
“The whole gang. Sure. That would be great. It’s always good when we can get together these days.”
“Um, Ron?”
He crumpled the plastic wrapping from his biscotti and stood to toss it in a nearby trash can. “Guess I’d better get back to the ward. My resident should be available soon.”
She reached out to catch his arm when he passed her. “Ron, wait.”
He paused. “Yeah?”
“How about dinner tonight?”
The blurted question took him by surprise. “Um—dinner?”
“Yes.” She nodded firmly, as if to convince both of them. “We can meet somewhere…or you could come to my place. I’ll cook, if you like. I made and froze a lasagna a couple weeks ago. It wouldn’t take long to thaw out and warm it up for dinner.”
He searched her face, wondering if this was another pity gesture. A concession to his pride? An implicit apology for the brush-off of the Halloween invitation? He didn’t like any of those possibilities. And yet…
“Sure,” he said lightly. “I’ll bring the wine.”
“That sounds good. I’ll see you at about seven, then.”
Nodding, he took a step backward, making his escape before she had a chance to change her mind. “See you, Haley.”
“Yeah.” Her tone was just a bit hesitant, as if she was already wondering if this was a mistake. “See you tonight, Ron.”
She considered calling Hardik or James. Either or both of the bachelors would probably have enjoyed a home-cooked meal. She was sure Ron would enjoy spending a casual evening chatting with them.
She was equally sure that he would think she’d invited them because she’d been a coward. Afraid to be alone with him.
He’d have been right.
It wasn’t that she was afraid of Ron. She trusted him implicitly. She was the one who’d been acting strangely lately. Whose impulses seemed to be getting out of hand. Like this dinner invitation, for example. What had made her invite him to her place for a cozy, meal à deux?
Though she’d tried all afternoon to rationalize the invitation by telling herself that it had been a gesture to apologize for her inadvertently rude response to his Halloween party suggestion, she knew that wasn’t quite the whole story. The thing was, it was getting harder to deny her attraction to Ron—and his to her. It was time for them to either do something about it, clear the air, or allow their friendship to be irreparably damaged—something she wasn’t willing to risk.
He arrived exactly on time, bearing the bottle of wine he’d promised. Knowing her behavior was a bit too animated, she served dinner immediately, chattering and laughing the whole time. Ron played along, teasing and joking as he always did, though something in his eyes let her know he was as aware as her of the underlying tension between them now.
The chocolate torte she’d thrown together for dessert was a big hit, as anything chocolate always was where Ron was concerned. They continued to talk shop while they finished the meal. Ron shared stories about the hem-onc ward, and Haley told him about the children she worked with in pulmonology. One cystic fibrosis patient had particularly captured her heart, a six-year-old boy who’d been hospitalized with pneumonia, but was making a satisfactory recovery. Even with his health ailments, the child was sunny-natured and funny, wrapping the entire hospital staff around his little fingers.
“Sounds like you rather enjoy peds, yourself,” Ron commented as he helped her stack dishes after the meal.
“I do like it. I’m thinking maybe I’ll specialize in child psych, rather than adult.”
“You could do a double board residency. Get certified in both.”
“Actually, I’ve been looking into the triple board program,” she confessed. “Child and adult psych and peds. It’s a five-year program, but I’d be board certified in all three, which would really open my options for the future.”
He didn’t look particularly surprised by her aspiration. “I see. So you’ll definitely be leaving the state for your residency, since there’s not a triple board program here.”
“Yes, I would have to go somewhere else if I decide to go that route. But I plan to come back to Arkansas eventually. My roots are here.”
“Hmm.”
She wasn’t sure how to interpret that murmur. “Are you hoping to get into the peds residency here?”
He shrugged. “Y
ou never know. All depends on passing Step 2. And getting through the interview process.”
She gave him a look as she turned from the dishwasher. “You’re not preparing for failure, are you?”
He grinned. “Sugar, I’m always prepared for failure. Better to expect it and be pleasantly surprised than hope for the best and be blindsided.”
She sighed, hiding her reaction to his contagious smile behind exasperation. “You know how I disapprove of that attitude.”
“Yes, I know.” Taking a step toward her, he blocked her path, effectively trapping her against the kitchen counter. He lifted a hand to stroke a strand of hair from her cheek, letting his fingertips linger against her skin. He’d done that once before. It was no less disconcerting this time. “You’ve disapproved of me from the day you met me, haven’t you, Haley?”
“I, um—” She moistened her lips. “Of course not, Ron. We struck up a conversation the day we met, remember?”
“I remember. I mentioned my Plan B—being a mortician—and you gave me a locker-room talk about giving it my best and winning for the home team.”
“I didn’t say anything about the home team,” she muttered with a frown. “And I didn’t disapprove of you. You’re the one who had a problem with my attitude. You called me a cheerleader.”
“Mmm. As in motivator. Inspirer. Encourager. None of which are bad things.”
She couldn’t tell if he was mocking her or complimenting her. Maybe a little of both. She did notice that he wasn’t backing away. In fact, she thought he might have inched a little closer. “Ron?”
His gaze lingered on her mouth. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about your advice.”
“Um—what advice?”
“You know what you always say about taking risks and going after what you want?”
She did say that fairly often. “Well, yes…”
“What’s your advice for when a guy wants something very badly, but the risks are damned high?”
“I guess that would depend on how much you’re willing to lose,” she answered very softly.