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“Proposition?” she prompts.
I swallow and lift my gaze to those hopeful blue irises. “Give me one week. You tell me when it’s the right time, and let’s go away. One stress-free week. Then, if that doesn’t work, we’ll take the next step. Whatever that is.”
“You think I’ve been too stressed?” Her chin drops.
Shit. She’s interpreting my offer as me believing she’s to blame. Too many people blame themselves when they shouldn’t. And of course, in the medical world, the inverse is also true, but the inverse doesn’t apply here.
I tap my index finger on the tip of her nose. “Don’t go reading into what I’m saying. But there is research that shows stress can have a negative impact on fertility. You run yourself ragged running two salons and maintaining your own clientele. Let’s just get away. Vacation. When was the last time you went on vacation?” Those eyes appear mystified. “That’s what I thought. Years, right?”
She collapses onto her back and lays an arm over her forehead. My gaze travels down her lithe, naked form sprawled on the bed. The sheets cross her pelvic bone, and I let my fingers travel the valleys over her smooth skin.
“I think that’s a good idea.” My fingers brush the sheet aside. “I’ve also read about acupuncture and reiki being beneficial. Suzanne swears she’s four for four.”
My fingers hesitate over her smooth, bare mound. “What?”
“Yes. If your chakras aren’t aligned, it can cause issues with fertility. Here in the west, we don’t pay enough attention to our chakras.”
I raise my gaze from her delectable pussy to see if she is actually serious. She sits up and swings her legs off the bed, distancing herself from my roaming fingers.
“We need to get going. We can’t be late for Christmas brunch.”
“Are you really going to align your chakras?” I’ve been studying medicine for twelve years, and let’s just say chakras don’t make it into anatomy class. To me, that’s about as sensible as taking horse dewormer for a virus. But I suppose if it has the same effect as a placebo pill, it could be as effective as my proposed vacation.
She shoves a drawer closed, and with garments in hand, waltzes naked to the bathroom. My gaze follows her slender, willowy form, hoping for an invitation.
“I’ll be quick so you can get in.” She’s chirpy as she closes the door.
Damn. After locating my boxers, I meander into the kitchen to get the coffee started.
We finish exchanging presents, which is basically a bunch of clothes. Then I rush through a shower and she shoos me out the door, telling me we can’t show up at the same time. When I climb in my car, hair damp and my overnight bag shoved in the trunk, an uncomfortable knot forms in the pit of my stomach.
The front door swings open as I pop open the trunk and lift out my overnight bag. I plan to stay at my folks’ tonight, spend some time with Sam’s family, then go back to Houston in the morning. Everyone else will head to Sam’s place in Aspen, but I can’t take the week off. Or, more precisely, if I’m taking a week off, I’d rather it not be in a crowded ski house with my parents, Sam’s family, and Oliver and his new girlfriend. There was a time when I loved our Christmas ski trips, back when it was my parents, Sam, Oliver, and our brother from another mother, Jason. Times have changed.
“How was traffic this morning?” Mom asks from the stoop.
“Roads are pretty empty. Got here without any issue.”
“I wish you would’ve come last night.”
“Patty, he’s a grown man. He probably prefers his own bed,” Dad grumbles from within the house.
Once inside, he and I share a gruff man hug, complete with a pat on the back.
“How’re things at the hospital?” Dad asks.
“Fine.” I spend a fair amount of time at my private practice, but to Dad it’s all the same.
Mom runs her hand over my cheek in the way she likes to do, then she pats her apron and heads to the kitchen with Dad and me following in her wake.
“Sandra should be here any minute,” Mom says.
“Is that right?” I respond.
Mom gives me her all-knowing look, and that has me questioning my acting skills. She drops it, so it’s probably all in my head. If Mom thought there was a bone to be found, she wouldn’t stop digging.
Dad points to the Christmas tree set up outside on the back porch. “You can go put your presents under the tree out there. Sam and Ollie and all the rest of ’em will arrive in a few hours.”
“Really? That quick?”
