Page 19 of Falling for Mr. October

She’s already rising as she hangs up the phone.

“I need to get to work. One of my favorite patients is having a bad morning.”

“Sorry to hear that. We’ll do the pumpkin thing when you get back.”

She bites her bottom lip, and my eyes settle on it. I’m distracted by the view, which is probably why I don’t already realize what she’s about to say.

“We can’t. The pumpkin patch opens early on the official launch day. A Murphy needs to be there.”

“But I’m not a Murphy,” I say pointedly, my heart racing—partly with excitement but also with a tinge of worry. I could get caught. Everyone who was trailing me in Maine could find me here.

“No, John, but you are subbing in for Miles so he can do whatever mysterious shit he’s doing, where he can’t even use his phone to check in with his damn family.”

The woman has a point. I promised my friend I’d look after his family and try to smooth the waters for him, although I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do on that count. Especially since he asked me not to tell anyone what he’s up to.

The thing is: he has a pretty good reason for not checking in, but I can’t explain that without sharing his secret.

I steel my jaw and nod. “All right. I’ll do it.”

Some of the severity drops from her face. She takes a final sip of coffee before putting her cup in the sink. “Okay, head down to the apple barn and tell Fiona I sent you. She’ll get you set up and show you how to run the register.”

I give her an incredulous look. “I’ve run a store for years.”

“So you should be fine.” She surprises me by wrapping her hand around my bare arm after she finishes with the sink.

I go very still, my breath hitching as her touch ricochets through me, making me hungry for more. Maybe I’m just touch-starved. It’s been days since I’ve hugged anyone other than my grandmother. Hell, the Murphys don’t even have a dog anymore, or the triplet goats they had roaming around when we were kids.

Either way, her touch is disconcerting.

Her big eyes hold mine. “Thank you, Giovanni.”

The moment stretches between us, intense. But a beat later, the side of her mouth lifts into a knowing smile. “Or should I say John?”

CHAPTER SIX

BIANCA

“She’s okay,” Emily says, her eyes full of tears as she meets me at the door to Luanne’s unit. She has one of the simpler, cheaper setups: one room with an attached bathroom. “I’m sorry you came all the way here on your day off, but I was scared, and the RN on duty said it was okay if I called you, and⁠—”

“I’m glad you did.” I pull her into a tight hug, eyeing Luanne, who’s sitting on the loveseat in front of her bed. Her wheelchair is parked next to it, her cane resting up against it. Her warm brown skin has its usual healthy tone, thank goodness, and she appears in good humor.

“You gave Em quite a scare, Luanne.” I steer my medical cart into the room, following Emily in.

“Pish.” Luanne waves a hand. “It was just some bad indigestion. I told her as much. You know the food they serve here is an insult to the stomach.”

“The taste buds maybe, but flavorless mush is very digestible.” I give Emily a quick hug and then step away to examine Luanne, who’s half-heartedly watching reruns of some prime-time cooking show. The doctor’s already come and gone, but I take her vital signs again, for my own peace of mind.

I find nothing abnormal for a woman her age.

I smile encouragingly at Emily. “She’s a tank, aren’t you, Luanne?”

“You need a class on how to sweet-talk women, Bianca,” Luanne says. “No lady wants to be compared to a tank. Doesn’t matter how many men she has on her roster.”

I snort, thinking of Giovanni. “Maybe I’ll ask my new roommate John for some charm lessons.”

Luanne sits up a little straighter, her eyes gleaming. “Emily told me you had a handsome boy living in your house, sleeping right next door to you. Do you have a photo of this young man?”

I scoff. “No, and I’m not going to creep around and snap photos of him, so don’t ask, you jezebel.”