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“You can have this one.”
I gave him a horrified look.
“You canborrowthis one, I mean,” he amended with a grin. “I won’t have you arrested for it, and we can work on getting you another one.”
I blew out a breath. “That’sreallygenerous of you, but I can’t accept that.”
“Stop. I have other cars.”
“Where?”
“There’s a shop in the back. I’m not actually the most handy guy, but the property had one when I bought it. I mostly keep non-winter-friendly vehicles in it.”
Vehicles. Plural. Small town ER doctors really made that much? I chose the wrong degree.
“My dad is a stockbroker,” Lachlan filled in, as if he could hear my thoughts. “Remember? My money never just sits in a bank account.”
I nodded sagely. “Rich people stuff.”
He snorted a laugh.
I gave him the address to my mom’s apartment across town, and then I texted her to let her know I was on my way. I hoped against all hope that I wouldn’t have to introduce them, but that was dashed against the log cabin style wall of the apartment complex when Lachlan got out of the car with me. I felt the sudden need to explain my mom to him, to explain that she was overbearing and kind of insufferable, but she generally meant well.
But then I thought back to Lachlan’s patient personality and the fact that he saw lots of people from all walks of life every day. I probably didn’t need to explain a thing.
We walked up a flight of stairs to the top floor apartment, and then I knocked under the gaudy tulle wreathe exploding with green sparkles, four leaf clovers, and glittering rainbow decals with pots of gold at the end. My mom swept open the door, her face set with a reprimand, and then she looked to my right. Her green eyes went rounder than the gold coins jiggling off the wreath by her head. “Hello,” she said with breathless surprise.
I barely managed to keep my eyes from rolling. “Hey, mom. This is Dr. Cade.”
Lachlan held out a professional hand. “Mrs. Brook. So nice to meet you.”
She took his hand in her orange-manicured one and limply laid her fingers over his. “Dr. Cade, a pleasure. I’m Hannah.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, my mom is ogling my… what is he? My fling? She’s ogling my doctor.Mydoctor.
My mom stepped aside to usher us into her heavily perfumed home. It smelled like she operated a potpourri factory, but really, she just had a QVC addiction. Calla lay on the overstuffed, olive-green sofa, and I went straight to her. My heart gave a painful thump, and I bundled her into my arms even as she shouted my name and threw her arms around my neck.
“Mom! I had a sleepover with Grandma!”
“You did?” I asked, my throat tight. “Gosh, that must have been the best. Did she let you play with her makeup?”
“Yeah, and we got ice cream because my throat hurts.”
I put a hand to her forehead. Her fever wasn’t too bad—maybe a touch warm. She had bright eyes and looked happy enough. My mom had styled her hair into two perfect little space buns, and she had a new unicorn dress over neat, white tights capped with shiny black shoes.
I gave my mom a genuinely grateful smile. “Mom, she looks adorable.”
“Doesn’t she?” my mom gushed. “We had such a good time. I checked her fever, and it’s at one hundred, but with Tylenol, I think it’s down even more.”
“Oh, good,” I gave Calla another squeeze, but she was already hopping off the couch and running to get a toy her grandma had bought her.
My mom was looking between Dr. Cade and me. “It’s been wonderful to take care of Calla. She’s so happy here. You should bring her more often.”
“Yeah,” I shrugged my coat off, not meeting my mother’s sharp gaze.
“Are you feeling better?” she pressed.
How was I supposed to explain this situation? People didn’t just have sleepovers with their doctors. “Yeah, I got antibiotics like you suggested.”
