by Olivia Miles
“She loved it, though. She liked being out. Seeing people. Friends. Neighbors. She was like Dad in that way.”
Brett had been eight when his dad left. He really couldn’t say whether this was true or not.
“It’s not a bad joint,” Mark added. “I didn’t mind taking it over when she relapsed.”
Brett’s pulse flickered, and he brought the glass to his lips. He didn’t want to talk about this. Didn’t want to think about any of it. He’d been in college when the cancer had come back. And he’d stayed there while Mark came home and held down the fort.
He knew it was what his mother told him to do. He was headed for med school; he had that scholarship to Yale, after all. But was it what he should have done?
The answer had kept him awake too many nights and driven him to work harder than ever, to be the best damn doctor he could be. To make the most of his decision to stay in school, pursue his degree. Even if he couldn’t save his mother, he could save someone else. The sacrifice wouldn’t be for nothing. He’d promised himself that. And even though she didn’t know it, he’d promised his mother that, too.
“Mom’s really happy you’re home,” Mark admitted, and Brett pulled in a long breath. Guilt landed square in chest, needling and prickly, reminding him of the résumé that had been sent that morning and the hurt she would feel when he took off again.
He wanted to spare her that hurt. But sticking around Briar Creek couldn’t change the past. It would only ever remind him of it.
He drained his beer. He had come back to town for a temporary stay, hoping to make the most of it, to better his mindset, prepare for the next phase in his career. There was nothing more to it than that.
The sun was beating down on the pavement when Brett finally left the restaurant after catching the tail end of a ball game on the television they had in the bar area, wishing that he’d been on call or could have made up a polite excuse not to have dinner with Henry tonight. The last thing he wanted to do right now was sit in that cozy little house and start feeling things he shouldn’t when he caught a glimpse of Ivy’s smile.
He supposed he should bring a hostess gift. Henry didn’t drink—and neither did Ivy—but Jane would appreciate the gesture, and unlike his brother, he was worthless in a kitchen, leaving any offering to be of the store-bought variety. He walked down Main Street, toward the grocery store at the far end, watching in growing curiosity as the revving of a dying car engine filled the otherwise quiet evening and a woman climbed out of a bright orange vehicle and started beating the hood.
A woman who looked a lot like Ivy.
His heart sped up with interest as he increased his pace, until he could make out the little wrinkle on her forehead as she set her hands on her hips and glared daggers at the station wagon. He knew that look, he thought wryly. He’d been on the receiving end of it more than once since returning to town. The girl was fiery, with a spark he found undeniably attractive. Most of the girls he’d casually dated would say or do anything they thought would please him. He couldn’t have a relationship with someone like that. But Ivy spoke her mind, stayed true to herself. She was the kind of girl who could share things, enlighten him, and keep things interesting for a long time.
If he were looking for that type of thing, of course.
He paused a few feet from the car and watched in stunned silence as she set down her bulging handbag and hit the hood of her car with all her might.
“What are you doing?” he asked, laughing under his breath.
She looked momentarily startled to see him. Her blue-green eyes flashed on him, sparking with awareness that she was being watched, but she just pinched her lips and shrugged. “It just needs a good pounding,” she explained, giving it another hard slap.
He struggled to compose himself. “A good pounding?”
“Yep.” She smacked it again, wincing as she pressed her red palm to the other hand.
She smacked it again, and this time he winced with her. That had to have hurt.
“Here,” he said, stepping off the curb. He pulled back his hand and brought it down to the metal hood. All at once a searing pain burned right through his skin, shooting sparks up his arm. “Jesus! Ow.” He gritted his teeth and shook his arm in the air.
Her smile was wicked. “I’m tougher than you think.” She hit it again and then jiggled her keys. “I think that should do it.”
He stepped back and watched as she slid into the driver’s seat, her pretty features pinched in concentration as she turned the key. Sure enough, the engine sputtered and then started, and from behind the windshield he caught her triumphant grin.
“I hope those hands are insured,” she said, poking her head out the window.
They weren’t, but he didn’t tell her that. Still, she had a point, and he’d be more careful next time.
If there was a next time. And there wouldn’t be. Because he needed to keep his distance from this girl and the way she made him want to fall deep and hard. And because she shouldn’t be driving this car around anymore.
He walked over to her open window and leaned inside. He was so close he could smell the vanilla-scented perfume wafting off her skin and hair and that creamy blue dress that hugged her in all the right places.
“You really ought to see a mechanic.”
“Why?” she quipped. “The car’s working fine now. It just needed a—”
“A good pounding. I know.” His mouth twitched. He closed his eyes briefly and thought about the worst case he’d ever handled back in Baltimore—motorcycle crash on a highway, no helmet, no padding. “A car shouldn’t need a good—” He swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t need to beat your car into submission.”
“Well, I don’t exactly have money for a new carburetor right now.”
“Ah, so you did see a mechanic.” Brett grinned.
“I did, and I didn’t like what he had to tell me. I could pay up, or I could suffer through a few little inconveniences.”
“Or you could end up stranded in the dead of winter on an empty country road. In the dark. Probably without any cellular reception.”
“Well, aren’t you just the angel of death? I intend to get it fixed, once I have the money for it. It hasn’t broken down on me yet, I’ll have you know. Sometimes it works just fine, and sometimes it’s just slow to warm up, but after—”
He held up his hand. He couldn’t hear it one more time.
He stood back, inspected the car. He hadn’t seen wood paneling since the eighties. The thing probably didn’t even have air bags. “You might drive this car all over the state seven days a week, but tonight, you’re not driving it.”
She blinked at him. “Excuse me?”
He reached through the window and, before she had a chance to react, turned the key and removed it.
“What did you do that for? It could take another half an hour for me to get it running again!”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Then you’ve proved my point. We’re headed in the same direction. I’ll drive you.”
“I’m not getting in a car with you,” she exclaimed, seeming horrified at the mere thought of it.
That stung, but he didn’t show it. Instead, he held the car door open and waited patiently for Ivy to climb out. Her keys were tight in his grip, and there was no way he was relinquishing them tonight. Not when he’d feel responsible if she broke down on the side of the road or the engine cut out while she was driving.
She glared at him and then, with a huff, pushed herself out of the car and strode past him, chin high, shoulders squared, leaving him with a slack jaw in the trail of her soft, sweet scent.
He slammed her car door closed and then, when he heard the rattle, wished that he had been a little more gentle.
“I was just running into the grocery store for a bottle of wine.” He shoved his hands into his pocket, locking Ivy’s blazing gaze. Even though she said she was fine with it, it still felt awkward to bring up alcohol around her. He supposed it was the same way peopl
e felt mentioning the c-word around him. And he’d rather they not dance around the subject. It only made him feel less normal, made him remember things he’d rather forget. He decided to loosen up and have the same approach with Ivy. “Do you think I should bring white or red?”
“White,” Ivy replied simply. “It’s hot as heck out here, and something chilled would be nice.”
If he had any last trepidations about broaching the subject, they were now gone. He pushed the door to the store open and motioned for Ivy to pass through. Her long hesitation told him she wasn’t going to be charmed so easily, but just the same, he felt a little lighter in his step as they walked to the back of the store and she slipped him a smile as he selected the bottle. He couldn’t say he’d ever been grocery shopping with a woman before. A friend, maybe. His mother, of course. His cousins didn’t count. But a girl like Ivy, a girl he was attracted to? Never. It made him think of how it could be to live life with someone else, to share the small duties that married couples did.
He didn’t need to think about things that would never be.
CHAPTER
13
Ivy didn’t know how she got through the fifteen-minute car ride to Jane and Henry’s house. Sheer willpower alone had kept her from glancing over at the perfect slope of Brett’s chin, the curve of his lips, the memory of them pressed against hers, grazing down her neck. Once, she had dared to slide her gaze over to his denim-covered thigh, but the quiver that had ripped down her spine and straight to the space between her legs put a quick stop to that.
She stared out the windshield, gritting her teeth and counting down the minutes as she told Brett where to turn. If he hadn’t snatched her keys, and if Henry wasn’t counting on her showing up tonight, she never would have agreed to ride in his car. Even if it was a very nice car, compared to her own—not that she would admit she missed air-conditioning, especially in late June, when the muggy heat sometimes made her worry the flowers would wilt before they got to her destination—and even if the man driving it was ridiculously attractive. Being here like this with him stirred up all those childish fantasies she’d played over and over all through her adolescence and, sadly, beyond. But it was nothing like in her dreams. It was instead just a hint of what could have been, had Brett been a different man than he’d turned out to be.
She thought of the way he’d snuck his hand through her window and turned off the ignition before she even realized what he was doing. She’d been so damn lost in those dark eyes that she’d been disarmed. She couldn’t help but smile at the effort. She might just call it chivalrous, if she wasn’t so furious. She supposed it was… nice.
But no. No. Brett couldn’t be nice. He was nice, as a kid, but not anymore. Brett the nice guy was the Brett she had crushed on for way too long. Brett the egotistical jerk was the guy she could see as attractive and nothing else.
It was probably some part of his doctor’s oath. He probably felt he had some civic duty not to let her drive her car, even if it was perfectly safe, even on these empty back roads.
Ivy unhooked her seat belt as they pulled into Jane and Henry’s driveway, eager for a quick getaway. Jane was standing behind the screen door with Sophie as Ivy scrambled from the car, looking surprised but pleased when she saw Brett step out of the driver’s seat and much more calmly close his door.
If this had been a dinner at, say, Rosemary Hastings’s house, Ivy would have been suspicious, but Jane and Henry had no motives when it came to her nonexistent love life. All they cared about was her health. And they cared entirely too much about it, if anyone asked her. Which of course, no one ever did.
“I have a loose tooth!” Sophie announced proudly, bringing her finger up to her mouth to demonstrate.
Jane pushed her hand back. “Let Mother Nature run its course.”
“I have two wiggly ones,” Sophie continued, ignoring her mother. “See?”
Ivy watched as the child moved the two front teeth with her tongue and tried not to laugh. “Impressive!”
“Do you have any wiggly teeth?” the little girl asked as Ivy stepped into the hall.
Ivy laughed. “I hope not, or I’m in real trouble.”
“Thank you for having me,” Brett said, coming up to stand behind her in the too-small entranceway. Had it always been so cramped? Ivy hadn’t noticed before, but now she felt like the walls were closing in on her, and there were entirely too many people stuffed into such a tight space. She could feel the warmth of Brett’s chest behind her, feel the heat radiating off his body and onto hers in a way that was much too intimate and altogether too tempting, as if they were a couple, arriving for a routine weekend dinner.
She tried to inch forward, but at the same time Brett extended his arm, brushing against her bare arm and sending every hair on end. She rubbed her skin with her hand, cursing herself for not having worn a jean jacket or something to protect against the inevitable drop in temperature once the sun went down. If Brett noticed their touch, he didn’t show it, other than to drop his gaze to hers for a hint of a second before grinning back at Jane.
“You shouldn’t have!” Jane exclaimed, taking the gift. “But thank you.”
“It’s not every day I get a hot meal. Cafeteria food gets old, and I’m not much of a cook.”
Ivy frowned, wondering if this hermit lifestyle he was describing meant there weren’t many restaurant meals, either. The thought of him eating his dinners alone, at work or in his bachelor pad, perked her up a bit. So maybe he wasn’t going out on dates, wooing other women.
Stop right there, Ivy. Just because he wasn’t wooing other women didn’t mean he was wooing her.
“Well, Anna is the cook in our family,” Jane said, “so I guess between the two of us, we don’t stand much of a chance.”
“Here,” Ivy said, reaching into her bag to retrieve the cookies Kara had given her that morning. “I brought dessert.”
“Cookies! Are these the ones Kara made?” Jane asked.
Ivy frowned in confusion. “Yes. How did you know?”
“There was a school bake sale last week I completely forgot about. I stopped by the restaurant to see if Anna had anything I could purchase, and she said she had a box of cookies from Kara on hand.”
Ivy considered this information and tucked it away to relay to Kara later. “They’re the very same,” she said, then turned to Brett, grinning. “In fact, Brett is going to be giving them away at the hospital fundraiser.”
His gaze dropped to hers, his smile slow and secret. It set a tingle down her spine, as if they were in on something together.
“Well, I’m glad you brought them,” Jane said. “They were gone before I could have a bite last time, and I’ve been dying to try them.”
“That makes two of us,” Henry said, coming over to greet them. Ivy couldn’t help but notice the nervous flick of his eyes from her to the cookies and back again. She brushed away the twinge of annoyance she felt, despite how valid his concern may have once been. He was just being overly cautious, but she’d put his worries to rest as soon as they had a private moment.
Of all people, he knew when to back off and just let her have a good time.
And she intended to have a good time tonight.
She slid a glance at Brett, and her heart did a little jumping jack. Well, not too good of a time.
“Cookies! I love cookies!” Sophie was already reaching for the bag excitedly.
“Not until after you’ve eaten your dinner,” Jane said.
“Awww.” Sophie folded her arms across her chest in a huff and pushed out her lips.
All the adults in the room burst out laughing, which, by the low growl Sophie then released, was not the reaction she had been hoping for.
Still, it broke the ice, and therefore it was just what Ivy had been hoping for.
“Come on,” Jane said brightly. “Let’s go back into the kitchen. I set out some appetizers.”
The appetizers consisted of carrot and celery sticks surrounding a b
owl of what Ivy knew to be yogurt-based dip. In other words: rabbit food. Jane and Henry did their best to support her diet, even if sometimes their effort went a little overboard.
“I had a patient the other day who could learn a thing or two from you, Jane,” Brett said, helping himself to a few carrots. “His wife was hysterical, convinced he was having a heart attack. Turns out he’d engaged in an afternoon eating contest with one of his other retired buddies. Spent the entire day wolfing cheeseburgers, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, nachos with extra jalapeños, and beer.”
Ivy laughed. “Sounds delicious, actually.” Sighing, she reached for a carrot stick herself. “How’s work at the hospital?”
See, she could do this. Simple chitchat. Just like she would do with anyone else. She’d show him she didn’t care. She’d show herself, too.
“Eh.” He shrugged.
“Not as exciting as an inner-city emergency room, I gather,” Henry said, hoisting Sophie so she could reach the tray.
“You could say that.” Brett’s expression seemed to darken. “But we still get some serious cases coming through the door. Just not as frequently,” he added.
Jane shuddered. “I don’t know how you do it. All those people. Hurt.”
Brett gave a modest shrug. “I like to help them.”
Ivy thought of the way he looked that day she’d come in for the fundraiser meeting, like some doctor straight off a medical drama. Even though she knew he was a doctor, somehow seeing him in scrubs, in his element, made the fact that he actually had the ability to spring into action, call out orders, and potentially save a life… terribly attractive.
And that is just plain terrible, Ivy.
“How ’bout a beer?” Henry asked, opening the fridge. He took out a bottle and held it up to Brett, opting for a soda for himself. Ivy watched as the two men went onto the deck to start the grill, Henry carrying a plate of shrimp Jane had pressed into his hands.
Unlike herself, Henry had a very different reason for never drinking, and it saddened her to think that to this day, he was still haunted by their childhood. She knew he shielded her from the worst of it as much as he could. He was more in tune with the warning signs and triggers, more capable of suggesting they leave the house or that she spend the night at Grace’s house. She let him have that role, even when she was finally able to see what was going on, too. It made him feel better to have the sense that he was doing something, when so much was out of their control.