“Deacon, it’s not that big of a cabin. It won’t take us long, I promise.” There was laughter in her voice. “Just let me get my suitcase. Oh, and you should bring in the tomatoes, too, and I’ll give you some better containers for taking them home.”
“Let me give you a hand.” I trailed her to her car, waiting while she unlocked the trunk. “I can carry that for you.”
“Deacon, I appreciate it, but I’m capable of handling my own luggage.”
“I know that, but if Gram were here, she’d smack me upside the head for not doing it. Don’t make me risk a concussion. Let me take it.”
Emma cast her eyes upward to the skies, but she handed the bag to me. “Fine. Whatever.”
We climbed up the porch steps. “I like your rocker. I bet you enjoy some beautiful evenings out here.”
“I’m sad to say that I haven’t yet.” She grimaced, fumbling in her purse for the keys. “I’m usually at the hospital until after dark. But after spending two weeks in Virginia, where my mom and I shared quite a few sunsets, I’m determined to change that. I know it’s not a new year, but I’m making a resolution anyway.”
“I promise, I won’t turn you in to the resolution cops.” I shot her a wink as she opened the front door. “It’s been my experience that making changes can work better when they come organically rather than when the rest of the world decides the time is right.”
“Words of wisdom from Dr. Girard?” Emma quirked an eyebrow at me, dropping her purse on a chair.
“You know it.” I patted her small duffle, still on my shoulder. “Want me to take this to the bedroom?”
Her cheeks went pink, and I knew in that moment that both of us were thinking of the same thing. But she only nodded.
“That would be awesome. Let me show you where it is.”
Emma’s cabin was as pretty on the inside as it was on the outside. It was an open concept design, with the kitchen to our right as we walked through the small living room to the closed door in the back. She opened it and then stepped back to let me go into her bedroom.
“You can just drop it on the floor if you don’t mind.” She was flustered because we were both standing near her bedroom together. I found that kind of adorable.
I hid a smirk from her as I carried the bag to the end of her bed. It was dark in there, but I got the general sense of the room: it was neat and comfortable with homey touches that made me think of Gram and how she decorated the farmhouse.
Stepping back out into the living room, I watched Emma switch on lights and toe off her sneakers.
“This is incredible, Emma.” I made a slow turn, taking it all in. “I can’t believe you did this all yourself.”
“Well, that’s because I didn’t.” She leaned both hands on the back of the sofa, and I wondered if she knew that the position threw her breasts into prominence beneath the loose tank top. “I had so much help. And the more complicated stuff, I hired out. I wasn’t going to mess around with plumbing or electricity.”
“That was smart. Just because you didn’t lay the pipes or hook up the wires doesn’t mean you weren’t still part of the work and the planning. And all the people who helped—they’re the community you built. You have this way of drawing people to you, Emma—you connect them. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She dropped her gaze to the floor. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Deacon.”
“Well . . . it’s true. And I’ve said lots of nice things to you before.” I couldn’t come up with any example right at the moment, but that didn’t mean I was wrong. “I tell you how much I value your work. I talk about how much the patients like you.” I paused. “Back when . . . before, I’m sure I said stuff that was very complimentary. Matter of fact, I’m sure of it.”
“Anything you say during sex doesn’t count,” she informed me loftily, and then, realizing what she’d said, she bit her lip. “Um, want to sit down? I think I’d like something to drink. I’m always so parched after being on the airplane.”
I recognized a change-of-subject tactic when I heard one. I could’ve called her on it, but I decided to be kind. “Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Emma had opened the fridge, and now she stuck her head around the door to look at me, her blue eyes skeptical. “I’m having seltzer with a lime. But I have beer, or wine, or just plain water.”
“Just plain water’s good. I’d love a beer, but I need to get in to the hospital early tomorrow morning.” I sank down into a cushion of the huge couch. “Wow. This is really comfortable. I might not get up again.”
Her brows drew together briefly, making me wonder what I’d said to elicit that expression on her face. Before I could ask, she spoke again. “Like I said, I could always go in tomorrow. Then you wouldn’t have to wake up so early on a weekend.”
“No.” I pointed at her. “What I said before still goes. You’re not to show your face at St. Agnes until Monday.”
“Hmmm.” She poured water into a glass and handed it to me before going back for her own drink. “I seem to recall that when you got back to Florida after your mission trip to South America a few years ago,yougot off the plane, dropped your bags at home, and headed straight for the hospital.”
“I only did that because a little bird had told me that our new naturopath was countermanding all of my existing orders, coming up with new treatment plans and causing general mayhem.” As she passed me to sit on the other side of the sofa, I lifted my glass to hers, touching it lightly. “Cheers.”
“Ha. Some little bird . . . named Mira.” Emma rolled her eyes as she took a sip and then dropped to the couch. “And I hadn’t been doing any of that—I’d just been doing my damn job.”
