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“The right person will come along exactly when you need them,” she said. “There’s a lot to be said for getting to live in a place like this. Terrible hours and less pay are sometimes worth it for peace of mind.”
“Hmm,” he said. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
She yawned and closed her eyes. “Thanks for seeing me home. You’ve gone above and beyond the call of doctorly duties. Can you turn the light out when you leave? My eyes hurt.”
Colt snorted. Her conversation diversion wasn’t subtle at all.
“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” he asked. “Don’t worry. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”
He did as she asked and turned the overhead lights off, but sunlight was streaming through the expanse of windows. There was nothing he could do about that.
“I’m going to get you a fresh ice pack and ibuprofen before I leave,” he said. “If you have any.”
“Of course I do,” she said. “I’m a writer. Look in the kitchen. It’s right next to the coffee maker.”
It was a large condo, two floors, and as much square footage as his cabin. Downstairs consisted of an open floor plan, a large commercial kitchen in white with gold hardware and fixtures, and a dining area with a modern glass table and eight chairs. He thought it ironic she’d have a space built for entertaining when she knew absolutely no one and didn’t seem like the type to invite them in.
He maneuvered his way through to the kitchen, and he noticed there was one area of the house she had set up—her office. He didn’t feel bad about peeking inside. The French doors were wide open.
Priorities. He understood them. His clinic had been the first thing he’d started renovations on when he’d bought Doc Willis’s practice. She had a sleek desk made of the same glass as the dining room table and there was a desktop computer with two monitors on its surface. There was a treadmill in the corner and shelves filled with everything from research books to ornately carved knives, awards, and a whimsical glass dragon.
But in front of the large picture window was an old comfortable chair, a single floor lamp, and a leopard-print throw that had seen better days but looked very soft. He knew instinctively this was her real workspace.
He moved into the kitchen and almost laughed. Again, priorities. The countertops were completely bare except for a very fancy coffee machine and a giant mug. Next to the mug was a Costco-sized bottle of ibuprofen.
“How long have you lived here?” Colt asked.
“Exactly one week,” she said. “Why?”
“You have no food.”
“I have cereal in that box over there. And milk and a bottle of wine in the fridge. I order in for everything else. At least for now until I get the kitchen set up. I don’t spend a lot of time cooking.”
“I’d never have guessed,” he said under his breath. “Keep that ice on your head. It’ll help the swelling go down. But you’re going to be an interesting shade of green and purple for the next few days.”
“Good thing I don’t know anyone,” she said. “It might raise questions.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone in town already knows who you are, what happened to you, and where you live. The locals don’t miss much.”
He grabbed a bottle of water and four ibuprofen and went back into the living area. Chewy had made himself at home on the chair next to his new mistress.
“You didn’t know who I was,” she said irritably.
“That’s because I’ve delivered four babies, given a hundred physicals for the upcoming athletic season at the high school, and treated twenty-two summer colds over the last week. And I haven’t seen any of my family. They’re my normal gossip dealers.”
She took the ibuprofen and water from him. “You were too busy to see them or you chose not to see them?”
“Strategic avoidance,” he said, grinning. “I’ve become quite adept. Do you have plastic bags? I’ll make you another ice pack before I go and refreeze this one.”
“They’re in a box,” she said, waving her hand toward an open box. “I only know that because I was looking for the cereal and I came across them.”
Her voice was trailing off, and he could see the dark circles of exhaustion beneath her eyes. He found the plastic bags and filled one with ice, and then he found a dish towel and wrapped it around the bag, switching it out for the one she was holding on her forehead.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “Chewy will watch over you. And I’ll be back to check on you and bring you something to eat. It can be our first date.”
She mumbled something unintelligible and he took it as a sign of acknowledgement before telling Chewy goodbye and letting himself out the door.
It had been quite the day. And if he didn’t get some sleep he wouldn’t have the energy to pry all the secrets out of the woman who he knew would be the wife of his heart.
