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It had not been an easy decision, but last year Avery made it: She didn’t want to know if she carried the Huntington’s gene. Instead of potentially living in dread and imagining every memory lapse was the beginning of the end, she was going to live her life to the fullest.
It was better not to know.
She’d informed Katie of her decision and, bolstered by her friend’s support, had told her family over the winter. She hadn’t yet disclosed the rest of her decision to anyone though—that she wouldn’t drag a husband and children into this cycle of uncertainty.
Her new motto was, “plan for the worst, hope for the best.” So, yeah. No adoring husband, recalcitrant toddler, or angsty teenage daughter in her future. Just a cat with terrible taste in food and a penchant for gnawing on her favorite running shoes.
Speaking of the cat, Boots wound between her legs, rubbing against her calves, back arching high. Avery picked her up and the feline curled into her stomach like a lapdog.
A squirrel hopped across the yard and scuttled up a tree, nattering, and farther back, the river rippled by, constant and comforting.
Wes finished off his water, the bottle crackling. “What do you usually do in the evenings after work?”
“Well, if there are no emergencies, I catch up on paperwork.” Then because she realized how lame her life sounded, she added, “And sometimes my best friend Katie comes over for supper or we go out. Occasionally Gavin stops by to mooch a meal. What do you like to do in your spare time?”
His deep chuckle strummed her heartstrings. “I can hardly even remember. We worked long hours in Colombia, and I’ve been hiking virtually every hour of daylight since May. But I have a vague recollection of enjoying a game of pickup basketball now and then or shooting pool at a local hangout.”
“There’s a poolroom at the Trailhead downtown. Whenyou’re feeling better, you’ll have to check it out. Watch out for a guy named Stewie though. He’s a shark who takes great delight in suckering the tourists out of their pocket change.”
“Thanks for the tip.” He gave her a sidelong look. “I hope you don’t get this virus. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full around here.”
“Don’t worry about it. My dad says I have the immune system of an ostrich.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Apparently. But yes, the town’s medical needs certainly exceed the hours of this clinic. My goal is to eventually keep it open twenty-four hours. It seems as if a disproportionate number of emergencies occur in the middle of the night.”
“Hopefully once we get the carriage house renovated, you can find that doctor you need.”
“That’s the hope. It’ll be a tall enough order, finding a good doctor who wants to practice in such a small town.”
He glanced at the mountains in the distance, then returned his attention to her, lingering on her face for a beat. “I don’t know, from what I can see this place has plenty to offer.”
Was he flirting with her? The corner of his lip curled up, and his eyes softened in the evening light. It had been a while, but yes, he was definitely flirting.
A bubble of pleasure swelled inside. “Youaretalking about the landscape...”
“Of course.” His eyes sparkled. “What else would I be referring to?”
“I think your fever’s back. You seem a little delusional.”
“Never felt better. In fact, I should be ready to start work in the morning.”
“You’re definitely delusional. I’m not releasing you to work until your fever’s been gone twenty-four hours.”
He let out a deep sigh. “You’re going to be a stickler about this, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to be a doctor about this.”
She’d missed this—the easy banter with a man. She hadn’t dated seriously since undergrad. In med school she’d been busy keeping up her GPA and working as a teacher’s assistant for one of her professors. According to two men she’d gone out with, she could be a bit intimidating. That assessment had shocked her as she didn’t see herself that way at all. Her girlfriends suggested it was her grades and her single-minded ambition that scared men away. Whatever.
Avery recalled the ruckus her staff raised when they’d caught sight of Wes this morning. No doubt the man had stunning blue eyes and a nice physique—broad shoulders, flat stomach, and long, muscle-thick legs. But she’d never been into the mountain-man type. She’d always preferred her men clean shaven. Well, a little scruff never hurt. But big, bushy beards and overgrown hair? Not so much. Not that she was in the market for a man.
“What?”
The word startled her from her thoughts. She’d been caught ogling. “What?”
“You were staring.”
