Page 25 of Sweet Devotion

“Yes, ma’am.” He looked down at Romeo, then back at her. “I’ll call Colleen and postpone today’s session till tomorrow.”

Alice patted his arm and turned back toward the house. “The pickup slip is on the counter.”

Nodding, he went back inside, Romeo shadowing him to the threshold before peeling away to settle in his crate with one eye on the kitchen door. Aiden grabbed the slip, found his phone, and stepped back toward the porch where reception was a little better.

“Hello?” Colleen answered on the third ring. Her voice put that same ridiculous smile on his face every single time.

“Morning. It’s Aiden.”

“Well, hello there.” He could hear a smile in her voice. “Everything all right?”

“Alice has me on dress retrieval duty. Some mix-up with a store pickup in Millers Creek. It’ll cut into this afternoon, so I figured I should let you know I’ll miss therapy.”

“How about that for a lucky coincidence. I have a few things I’ve been putting off driving to Millers Creek for. Would it be okay if I tagged along?”

“Of course.” She’d barely finished the sentence when the reply tumbled from his lips.

“Great. I’ll be ready by the time you get here.”

“Sounds good. See you soon.” He’d almost disconnected the call when he realized he’d never been to her house. “Wait.”

A chuckle sounded in his ear. “401 Willow Street.”

“Got it.” His smile widened. Whether it was because she knew what he was going to ask, or that she could read a phone book and still make him smile was up for debate—another time. Hanging up, he stared at the phone for half a second like it had just handed him a winning lottery ticket. A drive with Colleen. No horse. No dog. No family dinner. Just the two of them and a Texas road. Definitely not a waste of time.

The rumble of a noisy muffler could be heard before Colleen spotted the Sweet Ranch truck. While she waited for Aiden, she’d stood at the garage door with a cup of coffee going cold in her hand, looking at the same boxes of wood flooring she’d been looking at for two weeks. She still couldn’t decide if it made more sense to return the boxes and pick out a sturdy vinyl. As if flooring would make or break her efforts at establishing her own business.

Turning to the curb, her gaze settled on Aiden, carefully exiting the high vehicle. To her, it looked like today there was something different in the way he moved. Less negotiation in it. Like the conversation between his body and his hip had shifted from an argument to something closer to an understanding. She filed away the observation without letting herself react to it.

“Morning.” He came up the driveway, entering the empty garage as she waved him in.

Slowly, he walked through the space, reading the room. He looked from the adequately lit ceiling to the bare concrete floor to the mirrors wrapped in moving blankets against the far wall, the stacked boxes of flooring beside them. Colleen resisted the urge to squirm as his gaze shifted to the folding table she used as a makeshift desk, and the two treatment tables she’d managed to get in and set up that made the space look almost intentional if you didn’t look too closely.

“How many patients can you take right now?”

“Not many.” She leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not advertising until it’s finished.”

“How long has it been like this?”

She considered lying. “A while.”

He crouched beside the flooring boxes—carefully, she noted, but without the rigid caution of weeks ago—and read the label. Stood back up. Looked at the wall where the mirrors would eventually go. Looked at the corner and focused with such intensity she almost expected whatever he envisioned to appear at the snap of his fingers. “Changing room in the plans?”

She bobbed her head. “In that corner. I need a wall of mirrors but installation has to be precise not to crack such large pieces. Beside the changing room I plan to put all the weight equipment.”

His gaze drifted around the room, slowly his eyes narrowed. “Where is the equipment?”

“I haven’t ordered it yet. No sense having it just sit here while I pay interest.”

His lips pressed closed and his head bobbed up and down. “I can help with this.”

“Your hip—”

“Is better than it was and will be better tomorrow than it is today.” The words came out without defensiveness, just stating a fact the way he stated most facts.

She looked at the space, then at him. The pantry drawers Alice hadn’t asked for and the paddock gate Clint hadn’t asked him to fix and the back door hinge that had been quietly repaired one morning without announcement all tumbled to mind.

“Tell me this. If the room were finished and ready for multiple patients, would you be ready?”