by Vivi Holt
He laughed, his eyes full of intensity. “Okay, okay, I’ll call someone. I just hope it’s something easily fixed – and cheap. Hey, come back,” he groaned in complaint.
She pulled back anyway and pinched the bridge of her nose to clear her thoughts. “Eamon, there’s something I have to talk to you about. You know how I lost that job at the Brigham?”
He nodded, watching her closely. “Yeah …”
“Well, I found another job.”
His eyes lit up and he smiled brightly. “Awesome! I knew you would. Where is it?”
She paused. What would he say when she told him? He’d think she was moving here to be with him, no doubt, and probably freak out, thinking she was the clingy type who’d move across the country because of a few stolen kisses. But that wasn’t it … or not entirely. She wanted this job because being here made her feel warm, at home. Peaceful.
“It’s in Tifton.”
His eyes narrowed in confusion and his smile wavered. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been offered a position as a GP at a practice in town. I’ll be working as a surgeon at Tift Regional Medical Center as well – they tell me I can split my time between the two.”
His eyes widened and he slid from the counter, his hands landing on his hips. “Oh wow! I didn’t know you were looking for something like that.”
“I wasn’t – I sort of tripped over it, the morning before we ate at Oinkers. There was an ad for the position at the GP’s office, and I sent my resume in. I wasn’t serious at first – I mean, I still haven’t told them I’ll take the job. But being here has given me time to think, and I know I don’t want to go back to working the way I was – constantly, no breaks, no vacation, no rest. I was stressed all the time – you saw the way I was when I got here …” She laughed nervously.
He nodded and combed his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, you were wound pretty tight.”
“And I don’t want to be like that again. I want to take time to smell the roses. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed life before coming here, and I hadn’t even realized it until I got here and slowed down and gave myself a chance to think. I promise, I’m not stalking you …”
He frowned and studied her face. What was he thinking? It was so hard to tell.
But finally he grinned, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. With his lips hovering just above hers, she could smell his musk and admired the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He took a long, slow breath before saying,
“I don’t mind you stalking me. Just an FYI – you can stalk me any time.”
She threw her head back and laughed as her fears dissipated, then rested her cheek against his chest as he stroked her hair. She could hear his heartbeat though his shirt, and the sound flooded her soul with peace. “So you think I should accept?”
“Of course I do. Are you gonna be living in Tifton, then?”
She nodded. “I should probably start looking for a place this weekend.”
“Would you like me to help.”
She leaned back to see his face. Counting the tiny freckles across his nose could become her new hobby. “That would be great. I could really use your local insights.” She chuckled and raised a hand to brush his cheek, reveling in the feel of day-old growth beneath her fingertips.
“Well, you don’t want to pick something down by the river, trust me. Midges are not your friend.”
“See, that’s the sort of advice I need – real estate agents are likely to sell me on something with midges, rats and backing onto a construction site, and I wouldn’t even know it.”
He laughed. “That wouldn’t do.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Hey, how about we get started on that supper.”
She frowned. “What? I thought you were cooking supper. Now it’s we? What are you trying to do – make me learn how to cook?”
“I hadn’t considered it. Though of course it would be nice if my girlfriend could cook me a meal occasionally, not just the other way around. I mean, what if I get sick, or injured? Who would feed us?”
Girlfriend. The word sent a shiver of delight through her. Never had such a simple word sounded so delicious.
Her cheeks flamed and she ducked her head with a chuckle. “Well, in that case … hand me an apron.”
He laughed and reached into a cabinet to get one for each of them, while she pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through it for some music to play while they cooked. She connected it to the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen, and within moments Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” blared through the room.
Eamon flinched, smacking his head on the top of the cabinet door as he pulled two aprons out. “Ow!” He rubbed the back of his head ruefully.
She took one apron and put it on, tying the string carefully around her waist. “You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just that awful noise.”
“What? Come on…”
“I’m sorry – my kitchen, my music.” He lunged for the phone.
She struggled to keep hold of it, but his arms closed around hers, holding her in place while he attempted to wrench the device free of her grasp.
“Hey, stop that! You’re out of line, Mr. Williams!” she shouted between giggles.
Finally, he yanked it free and raised it high in victory, his eyes shining. He turned his back to her and the music stopped, soon to be replaced by Trisha Yearwood. “That’s better.”
She groaned and slapped a hand over her eyes as she realized which song he’d picked – “She’s in Love with the Boy.”
“Come on, really?”
He faced her grinning, his hips gyrating to the beat of the song. He laughed as he faced her and offered her his hand. When she took it, he spun her beneath his arm and she collided into his chest with a gasp. They danced in a slow embrace as the country song surrounded them, aprons pressed together and eyes connected in an intense and unbroken gaze.
Chapter 9
“What did you think of the last one?” asked Eamon, glancing at Emily as he shifted into third gear.
She didn’t want to say that she’d felt like bursting into tears three apartments ago. That would sound hideously spoiled. So instead she forced a smile.
“It was … okay.”
She pressed the button to roll down the window and let the hot breeze blow against her face. It felt like an oven out there, and the air-conditioning in the truck couldn’t keep it at bay. She rolled it back up and leaned her head against the headrest with a sigh, her temples pounded with the beginning of a stabbing headache and her throat was parched.
“Well, this is the last one, so I hope you like it. Otherwise we’re gonna have to get you a double-wide out at the Golden Sunrise Trailer Park.” He chuckled and rubbed a hand over his hair, which was springing free without his usual Stetson or ball cap to keep it in place.
Her heart fell. She wasn’t a snob, but why did every property they’d inspected so far have to smell like wet dog, cigarette smoke, motor oil, or have mildew on the ceilings? Was it so much to ask that her new home be free of dangerous toxins and wretched odors? She sighed again and massaged her forehead gently.
“Don’t worry,” assured Eamon, resting a hand on her shoulder. “If all else fails, you can stay at the ranch until the perfect apartment comes along.”
She looked at him in gratitude. How had she managed to discover a man who not only made her body quiver with one touch, but also seemed to genuinely care about her? And why hadn’t she ever found such a man before in her life? Were they all hiding in rural Georgia?
“Here we are.” Eamon turned the steering wheel, guiding them through a large wrought-iron gate next to the sign saying “Stoneleigh Apartments.” Emily straightened to look at the sprawling buildings with interest. Already it looked much better than anything else they’d inspected. “This one’s also close to the doctor’s offices – you could walk there in about fifteen minutes if you wanted.”
“Yeah?” She leaned forward and studied
the picturesque kudzu vine that crept up the front wall of a red brick building. Fifteen minutes to walk to work … that would be a nice change of pace from the hour-long commute in heavy traffic to the Brigham each day. The gardens were well-maintained and there was a security keypad at the entrance – likely they shut the gates at night. Not as necessary in such a small town, no doubt, but it still made her feel a little more secure.
They met the building manager in the reception area and she showed them several units. The rooms were spacious, clean, mildew-free and smelled like a home should. Emily preferred living on the upper floor, and within thirty minutes she’d signed a lease for number 215. She was officially moving to Tifton, Georgia for at least a year – and she had a lease contract to prove it.
While they’d inspected the property, marveling at the size of the gym and the swimming pool, Eamon had held Emily’s hand, lacing his long rough fingers through hers. He grinned at her and pulled her close while they wandered through the apartments. For a few minutes she caught a glimpse of everything in life she desired. It was within her grasp – all she had to do was reach out and take it.
* * *
Eamon put the tip of the straw in his mouth and tasted the delicious chocolate milkshake. Aunt May’s Southern Grill was just one of the eateries on Main Street – most were chain restaurants, but this one was small, and family-owned. He loved their oversized burgers, thick-cut fries and milkshakes. They made him feel like he was a boy again.
So did Emily – he’d laughed more in the past two hours than he had in years, something he never would’ve thought possible with the dour, serious woman he’d met at Dalton and Hazel’s wedding rehearsal. There was no doubt about it – she’d undergone a transformation in the time she’d stayed with them, and he liked it. He was beginning to think there might be a future for them together. The idea made his gut churn and his heart race at the same time.
He chewed a fry as he listened to Emily talking about her new job. She was excited to begin and candid with him about how much that surprised her. She’d always gone for the most challenging roles, the ones that would elevate her career to the next level. Now she was just looking forward to making a difference. Already, her employers were calling her daily to talk about patients, excited about what she’d be bringing to the community in terms of patient care, expertise and skill.
He smiled as he listened – he could see she felt appreciated, and it brought out a warm glow in her cheeks. He let his hand drift toward hers, took her fingers and played his own across them, the thrill of her touch making his skin spark with pleasure. “Hey, I was wondering something … have you ever been fishing?”
She laughed, as though she’d been expecting him to ask anything else, then shook her head, her long dark locks swaying. “No, I haven’t.”
“I love fishing. I used to go with my Dad before he died, so every now and then I like to take my pole out to a lake in the area and just sit, waiting for something to bite. Gives me a chance to rest and to think.” He took another slurp of milkshake.
She tipped her head to one side and frowned. “That does sound nice. I’m not sure about the worms, though.”
He chuckled. “If I handle the worms, would you like to come fishing with me this afternoon? I usually take Saturdays off from the ranch and I thought I might go, but … I’d also like to spend the afternoon with you. Why don’t you come? It might be fun.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll bait the hook?”
He nodded.
“Okay, it’s a deal. I should probably change first …”
“Me too. Let’s head back to the ranch, we’ll change and I’ll grab my poles and tackle and meet you back at the truck. Okay?”
“Okay.”
By the time she'd put on the cutest fishing outfit she could muster, torn denim shorts and a button down checked shirt that tied just above her navel along with white converse slip-ons, she could see Eamon through the window, already waiting by his pickup. She reached for a straw hat, and shoved it on her head as she skipped out the front door.
"Ready?" he asked, leaning back against the door of the truck, his ankles crossed and his cap tilting lazily over his eyes, throwing them into shadow.
The sight of him, all tanned muscles, shorts and t-shirt, made her palms damp and she rubbed them down the sides of her shirt with a quick intake of breath. She knew she should take things slow with this cowboy from south Georgia -- shouldn't dive head-first into anything without thinking it through. But her head and her heart seemed to have lost their connection.
Eamon opened the passenger door for her, and she slid into the seat, her arm brushing up against his and making her skin goose pimple. Slow things down? It'd take everything within her not to leap into his arms right now.
She pushed her hands beneath her rear, and sat on them. If that's what it took - she'd just have to stay that way until she could trust herself around him. She sighed. The drive to the lake might be a longer trip than she'd bargained for.
The lake wasn't much more than a large pond. It was nestled against some evergreens, and a sloping rise. Shaped almost like a figure eight, Eamon had lovingly dubbed the place the Magic Eight Lake. He swore it was the best place around for catching large mouth bass, because the man who owned the property, Bill Pullen, stocked it annually with fingerlings. So, the fish were practically begging to be caught. She'd laughed when he said that, and he'd offered her a grin that made her legs weak.
True to his promise, Eamon baited her hook for her. He couldn't resist shoving the wriggling worm in her face before he did it, but she managed to shoot him a look of disdain worthy of a renowned surgeon, and much to her relief he soon gave the game up.
They stood side-by-side, two poles bent warmly over the still, glasslike pond. Emily's heart was full, and she smiled without thinking as she watched minnows darting in the shallows by her feet. The grass was full of the hum of bees, and the occasional rap of a woodpecker in the trees nearby blended with the call of a family of wood ducks who were foraging in a bed of reeds across the water.
"So, what do you think?" asked Eamon.
Emily slapped at a midge on her arm. "Of what?" She squinted at him through the glaring sunlight.
"Of fishing."
"Oh... it's good so far."
"Hmmm..."
She chuckled. "If I'm understanding it correctly, it involves a lot of standing and staring at the water. Have I got it right?"
He grinned. "Yep. That about covers it."
"Well, it's beautiful here." She sighed, and then drew in a long slow breath of hot air laden with the musty, sweet smells of the outdoors. "I feel more relaxed already. And hot. But I've kind of gotten used to the heat, now that we don't have AC at the ranch anymore."
He frowned. "Anymore? I just have to fix it, that's all..."
She sniffed. "Yeah, like I said..."
Emily watched with one arched eyebrow as he carefully pushed the handle of his pole into a holder he'd set up on the bank. Then, he stepped over to her and lifted her pole from between her hands, and set it in another holder. She frowned.
"Hey? What are you...?"
Just then, his face erupted into a grin, and he grabbed her, tickling her ribs with his fingertips. "You're just full of feisty today, aren't you?"
She laughed out loud, as the tickling made her sides clench. "Stop it!" she cried between fits of laughter. She couldn't catch her breath. "I'm sorry. Yes, you can fix it. You will, I'm sure of it. You're the best HVAC technician in the south. Stop!"
By this time she'd crumpled to the ground, and the relentless tickling continued as Eamon followed her down. She lay on her back, writhing from side to side. He wouldn't stop. She had to do something. She reached up and poked him in the ribs with both hands, making him flinch. Good, he was ticklish too. She set about tickling him as hard as she could, still overcome by paroxysms of laughter. Soon he was laughing hard too, and the two of them rolled about on the ground caught up in the fun of the mom
ent.
When finally she couldn’t take any more, they stopped, both of them breathing hard. She had somehow ended up on top of him, and let her head drop against his chest, her cheek pressed to his shirt. She could hear his heart hammering against his ribs.
She pushed up onto her elbows, still resting on top of him, a half-grin playing around the corners of her mouth. With one hand, she stroked his cheek, her fingertips grazing against day-old stubble.
"How did we get here?" she mused, her gaze focused on his full lips.
"Well, you kind of took advantage of me when I was down..." He chortled.
She slapped him playfully on the chest. "No, I mean here - as in, this thing that's happening between us. I would never have guessed it could happen. That I could..."
"Fall for a cowboy like me?" He filled in the blank, and her cheeks flushed with warmth.
"Well, I wouldn't put it that way. But yeah. I guess so. It was unexpected."
He raised a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. "Unexpected can be good. Right?"
She smiled. "Yeah. I wouldn't usually agree, but in this case…”
Reluctantly she pulled away, and sat on the ground, her knees against her chest, and her arms wrapped tightly around them.
He sat as well, and lay his legs out straight in front of him, crossing his ankles. Strong arms took his weight as he leaned back, and she resisted the urge to run her fingertips over them.
"What's wrong?" he asked, one eyebrow arched.
"Nothing."
"No, it's not nothing. What is it?" He turned to face her, and gently stroked her hair with the palm of his hand.
"My parents."
"Oh." He chewed the inside of his cheek. She knew he didn't understand.
"What's your Mom like?" she asked.
He leaned back again, and stared off over the lake. "She's Mom, you know? She's always there for me. Loves me unconditionally. Just wants to see me happy, I guess."
She sighed, and let her eyes drift shut for a moment. "Yeah, that's nothing like my parents. Oh, don't get me wrong — I'm sure deep down they want me to be happy. But the most important thing to them is that I bring honor to the family. That I work hard, get a good job, make money, buy a nice house, marry a successful Chinese doctor, or judge, and have at least one, possibly two perfect little babies, who will grow up to do the same."