Every Glance (Every Life #3)

by Tasha Ivey

  About halfway through the afternoon, the receptionist asks if I can work someone in, so because I’m actually ahead of schedule for once, I agree. And it doesn’t take too long before I’m wishing I hadn’t.

  Linda Avery is sitting on the exam table when I enter the room, and it’s hard to keep myself from walking right back out. “Good afternoon, Ms. Avery. What can I do for you today?”

  I stay near the door instead of walking over to her, hoping and praying that she’s just here for a refill on her blood pressure meds or with some concern that won’t require my close proximity. But I know her better than that.

  “My throat is a little scratchy. It may just be allergies, but I heard that strep is going around, so I thought it’d be best for you to check it.”

  Shit. Not only do I have to be in the same room with her, but now I have to get within inches from her. And I can’t pull Ella in here right now because she still assisting Stan with some stitches.

  “Have you had any fever, Ms. Avery?” I grab a thermometer cover out of the canister between two fingers and slide it over the stem.

  “I don’t think so,” she practically purrs as I approach.

  I try not to notice the way she caresses her top lip with her tongue as I place the metal end of the thermometer in her mouth. The seconds of waiting for the little beep are excruciating with the way she’s looking me up and down, and as suspected, when it does beep, it reads a perfectly normal temperature.

  After tossing the cover in the trash, I open another canister to pull out a tongue depressor, and I find myself wishing they were six feet long instead of six inches. “Let’s take a look at your throat,” I say, hesitantly approaching her and placing the depressor on the end of her tongue, which isn’t even needed, really. She’s a pro at opening her mouth wide, it seems.

  “Tonsils aren’t swollen.” I shine my light into the very back of her throat. “And it’s only the slightest bit red in the—” My words are cut short because both of her hands are no longer on the table.

  No, one of them in cupped between my legs.

  “Just as I thought. Hung like a horse,” she coos, squeezing gently.

  I try to step back away from her, but as soon as I do, her hand becomes a vice grip, so I can’t back away without leaving a very important part of me behind. It’s just almost enough pressure to take my breath away.

  “Ms. Avery, I’m going to have to ask you to let go. This isn’t appropriate.”

  She trails her index finger down my chest. “Oh, screw propriety. Come on…we can be quick, and no one will ever know.”

  I toss the tongue depressor onto the bed, and I wrap a hand around her wrist and squeeze almost at tight as she is. “I’ll know. Let go of me. Now.”

  “You’re just afraid we’ll get caught, but that’s what makes it so fun. I’ll bend over this table a little, you can lift up my skirt, and we can be out of here in a few minutes. No one will come in here as long as we’re fast.” Her other hand moves to dip into my waistband, so I drop my light into my breast pocket and reach down to stop her from going any further.

  “I’m serious, Linda. This is my last warning. Take your damn hands off me, or I’ll call Ella in here. You can either leave without a scene, or I’m okay with making a big one. Your choice.”

  Her eyes narrow slightly and she grips me even tighter. “Don’t threaten me. You will regret it.”

  “And you’ll regret it when I make a few calls to the board members about your behavior.” I don’t squeeze as hard as I can, but I tighten my hold enough for her to squint. “I won’t ask you again to release me.”

  She doesn’t budge.

  Fine. “Ella…Stan,” I call out as loud as I can. “Can you come into room four immediately?”

  I can hear the squeak of Ella’s shoes on the linoleum getting closer, and just as the knob is turning, Ms. Avery lets go.

  “What’s going on?” Ella asks and Stan appears in the door behind her.

  Linda wrenches her arm from my grip. “What’s going on is your doctor is manhandling me!” She holds up her wrist to reveal a red handprint. “Do you see this? I’m going to have no choice but to contact my lawyer immediately.”

  Stan blocks her escape. “That probably wouldn’t be in your best interest, Ms. Avery. You see, I saw what happened out in the hallway when you were here last week, and the cameras caught it all, too.” He looks over at me. “I trust Dr. Hoover implicitly. And I know that the only way he’d ever put his hands on you is to block your inappropriate advances and to protect, not only his reputation, but the reputation of my clinic. However, I’ll have no problem putting your reputation on the line if you choose to pursue your lies any further.”

  “Well,” she huffs, walking up to Stan and shoving him aside. “You won’t have to worry about having my family’s business again.”

  As soon as we hear the waiting room door slam, Ella starts cackling so hard that she nearly falls over, and I just scowl at her. “It’s not funny. She literally had me by the balls and wouldn’t let go. I didn’t know what to do other that call you in here, so it wouldn’t be my word against hers.”

  “It’s okay.” Sam is trying hard not to crack a smile, but the smirk isn’t as easy to tame. “I’m glad you called us in. Maybe we won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

  I close my eyes and hang my head. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

  Ella starts to say something, but it just sends her into another fit of giggles. All I can make out is “the look on her face.”

  Stan crosses the room and claps me on the back. “I was once accosted by a seventy year old. At least yours still has her teeth. Come on…we have about four more patients, and we’re done for the day. Don’t worry about her. She won’t take it any further, and I’ll tell Stephanie not to book any more appointments for her.”

  I nod, pausing before following them out of the exam room to adjust my now-tender testicles.

  I’m so ready to get out of here.

  AFTER RUSHING THROUGH the last of my patients and finishing up all of my paperwork, I’m pleased to make it home by five. It’s been a while since I’ve made it home that early, but then again, I don’t get felt up every day either.

  I’ve been fuming ever since it happened.

  I’m not in the mood to see anyone, so I opt to wash the day away in a scalding shower and melt away the lingering memories with a couple of beers. So I park myself in front of the TV with half of the rotisserie chicken I picked up on the way home, a pile of steamed broccoli, and a cold one…or two.

  About halfway through my meal and toward the end of my second beer, my doorbell rings, and I cringe. I actually think about not answering it, but considering how loud the TV is and the fact that I left the garage open, whoever it is knows I’m home. I just hope it isn’t Kyler.

  Padding quietly to the door in my usual attire of athletic shorts, I decide quickly that, if it’s Kyler, I’m going to put more clothes on before I answer the door. Peeking into the peephole, I don’t see anything, so I open the door and step out onto the porch. I nearly have a heart attack when I see Devyn’s car parked behind mine. And another one when she steps around the corner of the house.

  “Oh, there you are. When you didn’t answer right away, I thought you might be out back.”

  She looks amazing, but then again, she always does. Today, she’s wearing skinny jeans with flats and an open cardigan the same color as the golden sunset over a lace-trimmed, black-and-white patterned top. The bright yellow contrasts beautifully against her pale skin and long, loose curls of chestnut hair.

  “Uh, hey, Devyn. Come on in.”

  I get a whiff of her shampoo as she walks by, and I feel a sinking weight in my stomach. Why does she have to smell so damn good?

  “I brought your jacket back.” Her eyes drift down my bare chest and stomach when she turns around, and her cheeks flood with color. So, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, I take the jacket and excuse myself for a seco
nd to grab a t-shirt from my closet.

  “Have a seat,” I offer when I walk back into the living room.

  She walks around the coffee table and perches on the edge of the cushion as if she’s contemplating running right back out the front door. “Thanks,” she says quietly.

  “How’s Simon?” I take a seat on the other end, leaving an entire cushion between us.

  “Oh, he’s probably none too pleased at the moment. His dad picked him up from Kyler’s this afternoon because I had to work a little late. Otherwise, he’s feeling better and doing fine.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

  You might be able to cut through the awkward silence in the room with a chainsaw, if you were lucky. Devyn is fidgeting with her charm bracelet and I’m eyeing my beer, wondering if it would be rude to guzzle it real quick.

  “Uh, can I get you something to drink or a plate? I don’t mind to share my dinner if you haven’t eaten.”

  Her head snaps to me. “I’d love a drink, but I’m planning on picking up some dinner on the way home.”

  “Nonsense, I have more than enough.” I jump up from the couch and head into the kitchen to reheat the bowl of broccoli. “You do like broccoli and chicken, right? I also have some veggies if you prefer a salad.”

  She walks around the couch to sit at the bar. “What you’re having is just fine. Thanks.”

  After cutting the other breast off the chicken, I set it on the plate and trade it out with the broccoli in the microwave, setting it on a minute. “What do you want to drink? I have water, milk, lemonade, and I still might have a couple of sodas.” I peer into the top shelf. “Yeah, they’re both regular, though, not diet.”

  “Do you have any more beer?” she asks. “I don’t keep any in the house because of Simon, so I rarely get to have one. But I’ll only have one since I’m driving.”

  A woman who actually likes beer. Be still my heart.

  “Of course,” I say, twisting the cap off the amber bottle and pushing it across the bar. Her fingers graze mine as she takes it.

  The microwave beeps, not giving me a chance to think about our momentary contact, so I get the steaming chicken out and scoop some of the broccoli onto the plate.

  “Your dinner is served, madam,” I say with an extremely bad British accent and carry her plate into the living room, setting it next to mine on the coffee table. I know my food is cold by now, but I’m not all that hungry now anyway. I know I won’t be able to eat much with her sitting right here next to me.

  “Thanks.” She laughs and sinks into the couch, grabbing her fork.

  I pick up what’s left of my beer and carry it into the kitchen, finishing it off while grabbing another from the fridge. When I return, Devyn is washing down her first bite.

  “The broccoli is delicious. And a little spicy. Is that some kind of Cajun seasoning?

  “Yeah, but it’s not too spicy, is it? I can steam some more without it.” I hold my hand out to take her plate.

  “Oh, no. I love spicy food.” She smiles. “It’s really is good.”

  Beer and spicy food. Nice.

  Eating our dinner in front of the TV reminds me of last weekend when she and Simon were here. I glance down to the floor where he had sat, and I kind of wish the little guy was here with us. Every time he giggled at the cartoon, I’d smile.

  And having Devyn here alone is really screwing with my head. She hasn’t announced the real reason why she came—I have a feeling it wasn’t only to return the jacket—but I’m not at all upset that she’s here. I’m just waiting for her to drop whatever bomb it is.

  It could be that Kyler told her what happened last night, and she wants to lay into me on how I acted toward her. She could’ve finally realized who I am. Or maybe she’s thought about everything and doesn’t want me to hang out with Simon anymore. I don’t know what brought her here, but I hope that’s not it.

  “You’re not eating,” Devyn says before taking a long pull of her beer.

  “Oh, uh, I already ate quite a bit before you got here. I’m pretty full.”

  She sets her nearly empty bottle down and turns to face me. “I’m guessing you’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

  Here we go. “I’m glad you came, but yes, I am curious.”

  “Well…” She looks up at me through a thick fringe of dark lashes. “I’ve changed my mind.”

  Shit. The one thing I feared the most. I hate that she’s going to do this to me, but I hate it even more that she’s doing this to Simon. “You don’t have to do this, Devyn. I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt Simon.”

  “Oh, no,” she gasps, reaching out to put her hand on my thigh. “That’s not what I meant. I mean that I’ve changed my mind…about going on a date with you.”

  I can’t decide if it’s the beer or her words that kick the room into a tailspin, but it takes me a second to right my equilibrium again. “For real?”

  “Yeah. That is, if you’re serious about not wanting to see Kyler anymore, and we’ll need to keep it quiet until we decide whether we work or not. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, especially Simon. I haven’t dated anyone since Carter and I split, so I don’t want to do the whole rebound thing and end up screwing him up even more than he already is. He likes you a lot, so I don’t want to screw that up for him either. He may not like the idea of us dating.”

  “Actually,” I begin, lifting her hand from my thigh and pressing her palm to mine, “he already brought it up the other day in the car. He caught me watching you in the rearview mirror and accused me of liking you and wanting to be your boyfriend. I was afraid he was worried about it, so I told him that you and I were friends and that I didn’t want to be anybody’s boyfriend, hoping it would make him feel at ease. But he was pissed. He started pitching the sale like a veteran car salesman, saying that you’re nice and make good chocolate cake.”

  She smacks her free hand over her face. “He didn’t.”

  “Oh, but he did. It was pretty funny. He wants to see you happy, Devyn.”

  “Yeah,” she sighs, dropping her hand from her face and bringing her gaze to me. “I’ve thought a lot about what you said Sunday, and you’re right. I want to find a little piece of happiness, too, so I can be a better mom, not a bitter mom. I realize now that helping Simon to find some peace will require me finding it, too. So I’m taking a leap, no matter how much it scares me. And don’t take what I’ve said the wrong way…I don’t mean to sound like I’m using you. I feel a connection with you that I’d like to explore a little further. I’m comfortable with you as if we’ve always been great friends, as cliché as it sounds.”

  Not even a little bit cliché. “I feel the same way, and I’ll do whatever I can to help you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

  Her mouth pulls up at both corners. “So you still want to date me?”

  “Hell, yeah, I do. And it starts tonight.” I jump up from the couch and tug on her hand to pull her up from the couch.

  “Where are we going? I know you’re not driving anywhere after having three beers, and I like to wait a while, even after only one.”

  “We’re not leaving. Just going to the back porch.” Ever since imagining Devyn and I curled up under the stars in front of the flickering fire pit, I’ve told myself that, if ever given the opportunity, it was going to happen. I’m glad it didn’t take too long.

  I drag a bench over in front of the fire pit, so Devyn can sit while I get a fire built. After grabbing an armload of wood from the stack next to the shed, I strategically stack it over the pile of pine kindling after I get it lit. It doesn’t take long before the fire is crackling and emanating a nice, bone-deep heat.

  Before I sit down, I run back inside to grab a blanket and both of us another beer. That’ll be my insurance that Devyn will stay a few hours so we can talk. I set the bottles on the end of the bench and unfold the blanket, sitting down and covering both of our laps in one motion. Then, I twist the caps off both bottles and hand h
er one.

  “I’m keeping you a while.”

  She smirks and takes it, clinking the neck to mine before taking a drink. “So this is our first date. I like it a lot.”

  “Actually, we could count it as our second. We just had dinner and a movie on Sunday.”

  Her laughter echoes out into the inky black surrounding us. “That was pizza and a cartoon with my son in the room.”

  “So.” I shrug. “I’m counting it. I held your hand that day, and you let me.”

  She’s silent for a beat. “But you aren’t right now.”

  “Well, we can remedy that.” Damn, she’s killing me.

  I take two long drinks and set the bottle in the grass before I wrap my arm around her shoulders and drag her closer to me. I rest my other hand in my lap, palm facing up, and wait for her to take it, which she does immediately.

  “Better?” Now, when I turn to talk to her, I’m close enough that her hair tickles my cheek.

  And when she turns to answer, our faces are mere inches from touching. “Much better,” she says. Her breath feathers across my jaw, causing me to swallow hard.

  We sit in silence for a while, but eventually, we get to talking about Simon and her pregnancy with him and what he was like as a baby. Normally, I’d be bored stupid with this conversation, but it’s fun to hear about the funny things Simon used to say when he first started talking and how amazing it was when she got to look into his eyes for the first time.

  After a while, she curls up to me with her head on my shoulder and her forehead buried into my neck. I have the desire to pinch myself every few minutes to make sure that this isn’t a dream. That Devyn really is here with me.

  I’d love to tell Sawyer all about it, but he’d never understand. Never. He wouldn’t believe for a minute that she’s different, and he’d be even more worried about where my head is at than ever. Once I tell her who I am, we’ll be able to get past the past and prove to everyone that this can work, regardless of what happened over ten years ago.