“Yeah, well, I’m glad my kids’ private school has a dress code, because sometimes I think Chloe’s taste in clothes is far beyond her years.”
“Sounds like a sore spot.”
“Yeah. I don’t like to argue with her about it. As long as she dresses within reason, I’m okay, but sometimes she looks like a tiny adult.” He grinned. “That’s when I pull out the phone and take her picture, text it to my ex and let her weigh in on the outfit. If she approves, I keep my trap shut, but sometimes, well, let’s just say I miss my girl in her overalls and flowered T-shirts, you know?”
He wasn’t trying to impress Kasey or anything, but he caught a look of longing in her eyes, as if she really dug guys who worried about their daughters. “It wasn’t my idea,” he said, noticing a touch of confusion in her expressive eyes. “The divorce.”
“So you didn’t divorce purely on shopaholic grounds?” Her knowing gaze told him he hadn’t fooled her for a minute back at the bar.
He offered a humble smile. “Maybe the fact I was never around, always working on developing my private practice, had something to do with her turning to shopping. I guess it filled a void but, damn, practically every penny I made she spent.”
“Did you guys seek counseling?”
He nodded. “Too little, too late. I wish my ex well and all, I’d just like to have more say in my kids’ lives.”
“You should have input since you’re their dad.”
He gave her an earnest smile before he took another drink. She seemed surprised by it, with a quick yet subtle double-take before returning his smile.
“Thanks for being honest,” she said, popping another bite of pumpkin bread into her mouth. “We’ve all got problems. Sometimes we need to get them off our chest. Not that I’m asking you to unload all your gripes about your ex on me or anything.”
He laughed. “No-o-o, I wouldn’t do that. I’m sure she’s got her share of gripes, too.”
“Again, thanks.” She took a dainty sip and he really liked watching her, making him wonder what was up with that.
“You seem pretty well set up. No husband. No kids. You get to run a busy clinic. Make a differ—” Her laser-sharp stare stopped him in mid-word. “What?”
“I just found out I have a fifty-fifty chance of developing Huntington’s,” she said, with a defiant, subtly quivering smile.
Why she had let her dark secret slip out to Jared, she had no clue. Maybe it was because he’d opened up about his family and his frustrations as a father. Or because he tried to make her life sound all rosy-toes. From her perspective at least his problems were fixable. Maybe it was because she needed to get the burden of truth off her chest, and Vincent wasn’t around, and tonight was the night she’d planned to tell him. Whatever the reason, she’d said it, quite out of the blue, and from the sinking in her stomach, wished she could take it back, or at least stop her eyes from welling up. Darn it. The last thing she wanted to do was go all emotional on him. Not here. Not in public.
His gaze went stone cold, his body rigid. Dead silence ensued. Kasey could have sworn the coffee-bar music, which was quiet compared to the bar, got turned down ten more notches.
She knew the second the words had slipped out of her mouth she’d made a huge mistake. This wasn’t how she’d planned to tell someone. She’d wanted to tell Vincent, cry on his shoulder, let him soothe her, not tell a man she’d only just met. She’d never had any intention of telling Dr. Finch!
It was too late to take back the words and, oh, God, the look on his face, his startled gaze, was more than she could bear. She didn’t want his sympathy. The truth of the matter was she’d needed to tell someone before she exploded and now that she’d said it she couldn’t take it back.
Jared leaned in and looked at her with sad and serious eyes. “Wouldn’t you have already known if one of your parents had the disease?”
“Just got word my father died from it. I never knew him. Listen, I didn’t mean to say that. I certainly didn’t mean to hijack the conversation, but…”
Jared clamped his hand on her forearm. “This is tough news. You should’ve told me to shut the hell up with all my trivial griping. Have you taken the blood test yet?”
She shook her head.
“You need to have that test. You’ll go crazy with worry until you know for sure.”
“Tell me about it,” she said. “I found out three days ago, and I can barely function.”
“I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long! Listen, we’ve got a great genetic research department, I’ll arrange for you to have the test ASAP.”
“I can get it done…”
“Let me help you,” Jared said. “Now is no time to flaunt your big-girl panties. I get it that you’re an independent, big-city woman raised by a single parent, and you can handle everything by yourself, but just this once why not let someone else help you out?”
Was that what he’d taken away from their conversation tonight? That she was hard-headed and fiercely independent? Right now she felt anything but. Or maybe he saw her as impossibly stubborn. Either way, she was shutting him out with her response.
Hadn’t she recently given herself a lecture about needing more than two friends? The man had just offered to help her out. She should take it and be grateful.
“Okay.” She glanced at Jared and forced a smile. “Thanks. Let me know when to have the blood drawn and where to go.”
“I’ll get right on it first thing Monday.” He removed his hand from her arm and she immediately missed the warmth. He withdrew his cellphone and entered a note. “Maybe Vincent can go with you for moral support.”
She nodded her thanks. “That’s a thought.” She really didn’t want to go through this alone, and having Vincent’s support would mean the world to her, that was when she finally had a chance to tell him. Who would have thought she’d first blurt out her news to a near stranger?
“Oh, and another thing,” Jared said, putting his phone away.
She looked into his steady, concerned gaze.
“You’re not riding the T home by yourself tonight. I’m coming with you.”
After a brisk walk a couple of blocks to the station, they entered to the T. She didn’t even have to open her wallet to use her magnetic card to open the gate. Being from California, the whole public transportation thing still amused Jared. Seeing him fiddle in his pockets, searching for his Charlie card, she handed him her wallet.
“Here, you can use mine. I’ve got a bundle on it.”
“Thanks.” He took it and placed it over the card reader, waiting for the blip and the gate to pop open. Once inside, they rushed towards the red line, heading for Ashmont. She knew what she was doing, had probably ridden this line a thousand times. He followed along, making mental notes to do the reverse when it was time to go home.
She strode along, looking the picture of health and confidence, yet she’d been delivered a blow that would have brought most people to their knees. Huntington’s. Man, oh, man.
Granted there was a fifty percent chance she wouldn’t have the marker and develop the symptoms, and he hoped that would be the case, but it was still a raw deal. She seemed in her prime and deserved all that life could give her. It simply wasn’t fair.
She glanced back as if to make sure he was keeping up, and her soft smile and friendly eyes tugged at his heart. She’d gone from mere business associate to a woman who needed protecting in one evening, and though it was the last thing he wanted to get involved in—he had enough going on already—he felt compelled to be there for her.
Crazy. Absolutely crazy. He hardly knew her. It wasn’t his style. He had enough people depending on him already. Surely she had other friends and family around. At least there was Vincent. Yeah, Vincent would be there for her.
She’d never known her father, and didn’t seem to be close to her mother. At least that was what he’d gathered from their conversation tonight. She needed a friend, that’s all. Was that so much to ask? Yes, as a
matter of fact, it was. Relationships of any kind were definitely out for him at this stage as he was still smarting from the divorce. He glanced at her again and felt a firm yank on his heart. Aw, hell, maybe he should make the effort to be a friend before he forgot how it felt. Could he even do “friend” any more?
Did he really want to be a friend? Being a friend meant having a friend. So far, other than medical professionals, he didn’t have a single friend in Boston, and it had suited him just fine. Except for when he wanted to go to a Sox game and didn’t have anyone to go with, or when he didn’t feel like eating alone. Again.
Train fumes invaded his nostrils, a street musician played classical guitar in the corner. A thick crowd of people pushed toward the automatic doors on the train as they opened. He strode in front of her and helped her on board, guiding her at the small of her back. He thought he saw a flicker of surprise in her glance as she boarded. Her eyes were soft and green, and, as hard as he tried not to, he liked them.
Once the doors closed, and they’d both grabbed a pole to hang onto, she looked at him. “What a coincidence, seeing you at the pub tonight.”
Should he tell her he couldn’t stand the thought of going home to his empty apartment to eat alone on a Friday night? “I heard they had great pastrami sandwiches and I wanted to watch the Sox game because they played the Los Angeles Angels.”
She nodded. Maybe she believed him, maybe not. “I love their deli food, too. Do you go there often?”
“Once in a while.” Hey, she’d been brutally honest with him, the least he could do was be honest back. With a look of chagrin, he started. “Truth is I hit that pub every other Friday night, same routine. Pastrami. Beer. Ball game. The other weekends I have visitation rights with my kids. Then I head out to the school and stay overnight at a motel so I’ll be there bright and early to take my kids for breakfast on Saturday morning.”
She looked at him more closely now, as if grateful he’d told the truth. “Very interesting. And to think I thought doctors all hung out in fancy restaurants, having doctorly conversations on Friday nights.”
She’d forced a smile out of him, and he shook his head at the upside-down logic. Under the dreary circumstances, he should be the one trying to make her smile.
At the first stop, a large group of people got off, and they had the option to sit, but Kasey stayed standing so Jared did too.
“Does your mom still live in Boston?” he asked.
“No. She lives in Nevada. Works in one of the casinos.” She scratched her nose. “Since my nana died, I don’t have any relatives nearby.”
No support system whatsoever. That had to hurt.
“But I’ve got Vincent. He’s my best buddy these days.”
Vincent was her closest friend, and Jared was glad for that. “That’s it?”
“My other best friend, Cherie, moved to New York, so we don’t get to hang out as much as we used to.”
Something about the matter-of-fact way she’d admitted to being almost completely on her own pulled at him. Made him want to do right by her, which proved he’d had one beer too many, and that was that.
Downtown they got off and headed for the orange line toward Oak Grove. He made another mental note for the trip back home.
Whether she knew it or not, she needed looking after, and against his far better judgment, judgment that would normally have him running in the opposite direction, he saw a person who deserved to have a friend during this tough time. So he made a snap decision to sign on for the job. It wasn’t like he had to be her best friend or anything, just keep an eye out for her, make sure she got to the lab and followed up after the results. Hell, the last thing he could handle in his life right now was a new friend with a debilitating disease. Truth was he’d be useless as a friend. He needed to put all his energy into being a good dad. There just wasn’t enough left over for anything else.
Aw, what the hell.
Once Kasey and Jared exited the T they were lucky enough to find Kasey’s bus waiting out front and hopped right on. She’d grown noticeably quiet, and hoped he didn’t interpret it as not wanting him around. She’d been touched by his offer to see her home. Within ten minutes they were at her corner stop and jumped off.
“This is my street. I live five houses down on the right. Mission accomplished.” She stepped back and slipped off the curb.
He grabbed her elbow to balance her.
“You don’t want me to walk you home?” he said as they crossed the street.
“Thanks. I’m good. Really.”
She felt completely out of his league, and it was partially because of his aristocratic air, as if coming from California and riding the T was a big adventure for a guy like him, rubbing elbows with the folks and all. But he’d told her his mother was a teacher and his father a small businessman. Hardly aristocracy. Must be the overly confident surgeon part of his personality coming across.
She’d spilled her guts about the Huntington’s so he probably felt obligated to look after her. Well, she didn’t need his pity. Not now. Not ever.
He pocketed his hands, waiting.
Maybe she’d been too abrupt, but what was the point? He insisted on following her home, and she was grateful for that, but she didn’t need him walking her right to the door.
He couldn’t possibly have something like seduction in mind could he? Would he be so crass to take advantage of a woman who’d just admitted she might have Huntington’s? Unfortunately, she’d dated a guy or two like that in her life.
She glanced at him, passively waiting for her directions. No. That wasn’t it.
They’d reached the other side of the street and Kasey had a decision to make. Let the man walk her to her house and then what? Scurry to pick up the breakfast dishes or discarded clothing from the living room? Feel like she had to offer him something, and not sure she had a single soda in the fridge? Had she left her bra on the sofa?
Or she could stay with him here until the next bus back to the T arrived. Wouldn’t that be the practical thing to do?
“Wow, that pizza smells great,” he said, leaning back and noticing the Mama’s pizza parlor neon sign. “I’d weigh three hundred pounds if I lived this close.”
“The novelty wears off as the scale goes up, believe me.”
He half smiled, genuine and warm, and it halted her breathing for an instant. Maybe she had pegged him all wrong.
“Doesn’t seem to have done any damage to you—you look fine just the way you are.”
Ah, a smooth talker. Maybe he did have seduction plans.
Did a girl with a crooked nose, an ordinary face, and ample hips really look fine just the way she was to a future plastic surgeon? If her ex, the guy who’d broken her heart into pieces, hadn’t been able to accept her the way she was, a man like Jared would probably never waste a minute on someone like her. Didn’t he fix people like her? Maybe he did feel sorry for her. Well, no way would she tolerate someone feeling sorry for her, even if he did look sexy as hell standing under that neon sign. Sexy and kissable.
What in the world was she thinking, and why did he cause her to have these thoughts?
Oh, hell, this was too confusing, and the last thing she needed was to be confused tonight.
She noticed the bus lights coming down the street with great relief. “There’s the bus back to the T station. You’d better hop on because they come a lot less frequently this time of night.”
“I’d rather make sure you made it all the way home,” he said, grabbing her arm and squeezing, making her wonder what his version of “all the way home” meant. Did he think she was an easy hit, that he’d be doing her a favor to seduce her in her time of need?
Though fundamentally wrong, she also saw the upside of grabbing life by the horns and riding it for all it was worth, especially now, with her future at stake. But not tonight. Not with Jared. Neither of them had any business getting involved with each other.
“Really. I’m fine.” She pointed down the stre
et. “Count down five houses and see that big bronze star on the top floor? That’s me. I live downstairs. Got a guard cat waiting and everything. Go,” she said as the bus pulled up with a screeching of brakes. “You’ve done your gentlemanly duty for the night.”
He didn’t immediately let go of her arm, and gazed into her eyes so deeply she felt her toes twitch. “I’m calling the lab first thing Monday morning about that blood test. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have a date for you.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She did, too.
“Which means you’ll need to give me your phone number and address.”
She rattled off her numbers as he entered it into his phone. “Got it.”
He nodded, smiling and watching her, and there was nothing else he could say. Not now. Not until the test was done and the results were in.
The bus door opened.
“I’ll see you Tuesday at the clinic,” he said, getting on the bus.
She didn’t have a chance to respond, but stood and watched as the bus pulled off. Waving briefly, she turned and headed home, seriously hoping he wouldn’t forget about making the appointment for the blood tests. After all, she hardly knew the man, so why should he care?
She kept a brisk pace in the cool night, avoiding an overturned trash can and a car in a driveway blocking the sidewalk.
Of all the crazy times to meet a man who intrigued her, a man who turned her on with his dark hair and crystal-blue stare. A man who seemed a little interested in her, too. She shook her head, not believing that part of the equation. At least from the way he’d sat close to her in the bar when there had clearly been room to stretch out, and on the T, how he’d guided her by lightly touching the small of her back when they’d got on and off. Did he have a clue how heady that gesture was?
This was all too confusing. She needed to get a grip, think things through. Jared had changed from an aloof surgeon into a halfway nice guy tonight, but she didn’t do halfway nice guys any more. That’s how she’d gotten her heart ripped out of her chest the last time. She’d believed her halfway nice guy when he’d told her he loved her. The problem was, Mr. Halfway-Nice hadn’t convinced himself about love. If love meant sticking around, being there through the rough patches, he’d failed miserably. Why would Jared Finch be any different?
Dr. Tall, Dark...and Dangerous? Page 4