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The fierceness in Doctor Pierce’s voice when he said, “I do,” gave her a thrill, and squashed her doubts. He might not be offering exactly what she wanted but having someone make her cocoa and give her hugs, and maybe even help her figure out her next steps would be nice. Doctor Pierce was obviously super smart and wasn’t as emotional as she was. Maybe he’d be able to talk through some solutions with her.
He stood and grabbed the box from behind her, tucked it under his arm, and then offered her his hand. So decisive. His take-charge attitude spoke to the Little part of her and it would be a relief to retreat into that headspace. She’d have to be careful to not let it go too far so she wouldn’t freak him out, but she could at least take his hand and let him show her out to his truck.
She was surprised Doctor Pierce didn’t drive a swanky new SUV with all the bells and whistles. Instead, he showed her to an older model pickup that looked like it had been well-maintained but had also seen a lot of hard work.
“It’s nothing fancy,” he told her as he unlocked the passenger side door—with an actual key! “But Selma has gotten me everywhere I needed to go, hauled anything I asked her to, and has only ever asked for some TLC in return. They don’t make vehicles like this anymore; she’s going to run forever.”
Cricket smiled. Selma reminded her of her grandpa’s truck except Beatrice had been brown instead of red.
Doctor Pierce gave her a hand up, and she nearly expired when he reached across her to buckle the seatbelt, and made sure it was latched with a tug.
It maybe said something about how long she’d been without a Daddy or a Dom or a boyfriend that the small gesture had her near swooning. Or maybe it was because she was all up in her feels from being fired. Whatever it was, it felt really good and Cricket’s confidence that she’d made the right choice by going home with Doctor Pierce grew.
* * *
Evelyn gave him her address and it didn’t take long to navigate there. It was a small, squat apartment building. Not new, and didn’t appear to have been maintained particularly well.
It would be one thing if it was old but well-cared for like Selma; that would make sense given that Evelyn probably hadn’t made much at her job. But this? He didn’t like that she would live someplace so…ratty. If he had his way, she wouldn’t live there anymore.
Owen tried to ignore the gnawing question of wherewouldshe live—he’d want her to be with him, obviously, but it would be one thing for her to move into his house in Anchorage, and something entirely different for her to relocate to Enclave. He supposed they’d cross that bridge when they came to it. Which would be across several more bridges before that. In the meantime, it had been awfully nice to hold Evelyn’s hand for most of the way here.
He pulled into an empty spot in the small parking lot and went to unbuckle his seatbelt.
“Please don’t come in.”
Owen dragged a hand over his face. “Evelyn, sweetheart. You’re going to need help carrying things out to the truck, and maybe packing. I’m a bush doctor. I’ve seen things that would haunt your nightmares and been in places no human should go. A sink full of dirty dishes isn’t going to bother me.”
If she were living in squalor it would bother him. Not because being messy was some kind of moral failing but because it was unsafe, and probably meant she’d been so tired for so long that she hadn’t been able to do the bare minimum required to take care of herself. He was hard-pressed to think of something that would be a turn-off but still existed in the realm of possibility. The overlap in that Venn diagram was small indeed.
“I’m not messy,” she told him, clearly affronted at the suggestion.
She’d unzipped her coat when Selma had warmed up, and he loved the way her cleavage deepened in her purple V-neck sweater when she crossed her plump arms over her chest. She was just too cute, and he thought she’d be even cuter in some Little clothes with some pigtails or a braid crown.
“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Are you secretly an arms dealer? Have all sorts of illegal animal hides? Run an underground fight club?”
“No,” she said, her nose wrinkling.
“Are you keeping some sort of exotic pet? Is an alligator going to climb out of your bathroom and chomp my leg?”
Okay, now she was giggling, which had been his goal.
“No. No lions or tigers, and thankfully no bears,” she told him. When she’d solidly caught her breath, she folded her hands in her lap. “But still. I would really appreciate it if you didn’t come in. I just… I value my privacy, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed, holding his hands aloft in surrender. “I’ll stay out here. But let me put my number in your phone so you can call me if you change your mind and want help.”
Although now he wondered what on earth C. Evelyn Baker was hiding in her inner sanctum…
Chapter Five
After their quick stop at Evelyn’s place and the drive over to his house, Owen parked Selma in the garage and helped Evelyn out before grabbing her things. Once inside, he set them down and clapped his hands together. She’d perked up when they’d pulled into the garage and he’d handed her down from the truck, but she’d been nodding off during the short ride.
He helped her out of her coat and hung their things up, and took off his shoes. Evelyn did the same. Without her chunky heels, she was a couple inches shorter which made her seem younger somehow.
“I’ll show you around in the morning after you get some sleep. For now, I think you should have something to eat and then get to bed. Do you have any dietary restrictions, or foods you don’t like?”
Evelyn looked at him bleary eyed. If she was that exhausted, asking her to answer questions—even something so straightforward as allergies or preferences—could be overwhelming.
Owen mentally ran through the food he had on hand which wasn’t a ton since he was supposed to be out of town next week. But he’d been planning on pasta with shrimp and vegetables tonight and he could easily make enough for two. Plus, pasta was generally a crowd pleaser.
