He kissed her hair. “Where else would I be?”
“I know, but you had that meeting, and you’re leaving early tomorrow.”
“No big deal. It’s just a convention. It’ll take me ten minutes to pack, tops. I just wish I could have gotten here sooner.”
“You probably would have been grossed out.”
“Probably. But I still feel bad.”
“Don’t. There’s no reason to.”
He stroked her hair. “Do you want me to postpone my trip? I’m sure my dad would understand if I stay around here tomorrow.”
“No, that’s okay. I’ve got to work anyway.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah,” she said. “But thanks for asking. That means a lot to me.”
A
fter finding his son crashed on the cot and a dog in the recovery room, Max Parker listened as Travis explained what had happened. Max filled two cups with coffee and brought them both to the table.
“Not bad for your first time,” Max said. With his white hair and bushy white eyebrows, he was the picture of a well-liked small-town veterinarian.
“Have you ever treated a dog for it?”
“Never,” Max admitted. “Treated a horse once, though. You know how rare it is. Molly seems to be doing fine now. She sat up and wagged her tail when I came in this morning. How late were you up with her?”
Travis sipped the coffee with gratitude. “Most of the night. I wanted to make sure it didn’t recur.”
“It usually doesn’t,” he said. “It’s a good thing you were there. Have you called the owner yet?”
“No. But I will.” He wiped his face. “Man, I’m exhausted.”
“Why don’t you go get some sleep? I can handle things here, and I’ll keep an eye on Molly.”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“You’re not,” Max said with a grin. “Don’t you remember? You’re not supposed to be here. It’s Friday.”
A few minutes later, after checking in on Molly, Travis pulled into his driveway and got out of the car. He stretched his arms overhead, then headed over to Gabby’s place. As he crossed her driveway, he saw the newspaper poking out of the box and, after a brief hesitation, pulled it out. On her porch a moment later, he was just about to knock when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and the door swung open. Gabby straightened, surprised to see him.
“Oh, hey . . . ,” she said, letting go of the door. “I was just thinking that I should call you.”
Though barefoot, she was dressed in slacks and an off-white blouse, her hair fastened loosely by an ivory clip. He noted again how attractive she was, but today it struck him that her appeal lay more in an unfeigned openness than conventional good looks.
She just seemed so . . .
real.
“Since I was on my way home, I thought I’d let you know in person. Molly’s doing fine.”
“You’re sure?”
He nodded. “I did an X-ray, and I didn’t see any indication of internal bleeding. Once she got some fluids in, she seemed to get her strength back. She could probably come home later today, but I’d like to keep her one more night, just to be safe. Actually, my dad will watch her for a while. I was up most of the night, so I’m going to bed, but I’ll check on her myself later.”
“Can I see her?”
“Sure,” he said. “You can see her anytime. Just remember that she might still be a little doped up, though, since I had to administer some sedatives so she’d be calm for the X-ray and to help with the pain.” He paused. “The puppies are doing well, too, by the way. They’re cute as bugs.”
She smiled, liking the gentle twang of his accent, surprised that she hadn’t noticed it before. “I just want to thank you again,” she said. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
He waved it off. “I was glad to help.” He held out the newspaper. “Which reminds me, I grabbed this for you, too.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking it.
For an awkward beat, they faced each other silently.
“Would you like a cup of coffee?” she offered. “I just brewed a pot.”
She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment when he shook his head.
“No thanks. I’d rather not be awake when I’m trying to sleep.”
She laughed. “Funny.”
“I try,” he said, and for an instant she pictured him leaning against a bar and offering the same response to an attractive woman, which left her with the vague feeling that he was flirting with her.
“But listen,” he went on, “I know you’re probably getting ready for work and I’m bushed, so I’m going home to crash for a while.” He turned to step off the porch.
Despite herself, Gabby crossed the threshold and called to him as he reached the yard. “Before you go, could you tell me what time you think you’ll be at the clinic? To check on Molly, I mean?”
“I’m not sure. I guess it depends on how long I sleep.”
“Oh . . . okay,” she said, feeling foolish and wishing she hadn’t asked.
“But how about this,” he went on. “You tell me what time you take lunch, and I’ll meet you at the clinic.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“What time?”
She swallowed. “A quarter to one?”
“I’ll be there,” he promised. He took a couple of steps backward. “And by the way, you look fantastic in that outfit,” he added.
What on earth just happened?
That pretty much summed up Gabby’s mental state for the rest of the morning. It didn’t matter whether she was doing a well-baby check (twice), diagnosing ear infections (four times), giving a vaccination (once), or recommending an X-ray (once); she felt herself operating on autopilot, only half-present, while another part was still back on the porch, wondering if Travis had actually been flirting with her and whether maybe, just maybe, she’d sort of liked it.
She wished for the umpteenth time that she had a friend in town to talk to about all this. There was nothing like having a close girlfriend to confide in, and though there were nurses in the office, her status as a physician assistant seemed to set her apart. Frequently, she’d hear the nurses talking and laughing, but they tended to get quiet as soon as she approached. Which left her feeling as isolated as she had been when she’d first moved to town.
After finishing with her last patient (the child needed a referral to an ear, nose, and throat specialist for a possible tonsillectomy), Gabby stuffed her stethoscope into the pocket of her lab coat and retreated to her office. It wasn’t much; she had the sneaking suspicion that before her arrival it had been used as a storeroom. There was no window, and the desk took up most of the room, but as long as she kept the clutter under control, it was still nice to have a place to call her own. There was a small, nearly empty filing cabinet in the corner, and she retrieved her purse from the bottom drawer. Checking her watch, she saw that she had a few minutes until she had to leave. She pulled up her chair and ran a hand through her undisciplined curls.
She was definitely making too big a deal about it, she decided. People flirted all the time. It was human nature. Besides, it probably didn’t mean anything. After all they’d gone through the night before, he’d become something like a friend. . . .
Her friend. Her first friend in a new town at the start of her new life. She liked the sound of that. What was wrong with having a friend? Nothing at all. She smiled at the thought before it gave way to a frown.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Being friendly with a neighbor was one thing, making friends with a flirty guy was something completely different. Especially a good-looking flirty guy. Kevin wasn’t normally the jealous type, but she wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d be overjoyed at the thought of Gabby and Travis having coffee on the back deck a couple of times a week, either, which was exactly the sort of thing friendly neighbors did. As innocent as the visit to the vet might be—and it was going to be innocent, mind you—it had a vaguely
unfaithful
feeling about it.
She hesitated. I’m going crazy, she thought. I really am going crazy.
She’d done nothing wrong. He hadn’t, either. And nothing was going to come of their little flirtation, even if they were neighbors. She and Kevin had been a couple since their senior year at the University of North Carolina—they’d met on a cold, miserable evening when her hat had blown off after she’d left Spanky’s with her friends. Kevin had darted onto Franklin Street and threaded between cars to retrieve it, and if sparks hadn’t flown at that moment, there might have been an ember, even if she wasn’t fully aware of it.
At the time, the last thing she’d wanted was anything as complicated as a relationship, for it felt as though there were enough complications in her life already. Finals were looming, the rent was due, and she didn’t know where she was going to PA school. Though it seemed preposterous now, at the time it seemed like the single most important decision she’d ever faced. She’d been accepted to the programs at both MUSC in Charleston and Eastern Virginia in Norfolk, and her mother was lobbying fiercely for Charleston: “Your decision is simple, Gabrielle. You’d only be a couple of hours from home, and Charleston is far more cosmopolitan, dear.” Gabby was leaning toward Charleston as well, although deep down she knew that Charleston was tempting for all the wrong reasons: the nightlife, the excitement of living in a beautiful city, the culture, the lively social circuit. She reminded herself that she really wouldn’t have time to enjoy any of those things. With the exception of a few key classes, PA students had the same curriculum as medical school students but had only two and a half years to complete the program, as opposed to four. She’d already heard horror stories of what to expect: that classes were taught and information passed on with all the delicacy of a fire hose opened to maximum velocity. When she’d visited both campuses, she’d actually preferred the program at Eastern Virginia; for whatever reason, it felt more comfortable, a place where she could focus on what she needed to do.
So which would it be?
She’d been fretting about the choice that winter evening when her hat blew off and Kevin had retrieved it. After thanking him, she promptly forgot all about him until he spotted her from across the quad a few weeks later. Though she’d forgotten him, he remembered her. His easygoing manner contrasted sharply with that of the many arrogant frat guys she’d met up to that point, most of whom tended to drink inordinate amounts and painted letters on their bare chests whenever the Tarheels played Duke. Conversation led to coffee, coffee led to dinner, and by the time she tossed her cap in the air at graduation, she figured she was in love. By then, she’d made her decision about which school to attend, and with Kevin planning to live in Morehead City, only a few hours to the south of where she’d be for the next few years, the choice seemed almost predestined.
Kevin commuted to Norfolk to see her; she drove down to Morehead City to see him. He got to know her family, and she got to know his. They fought and made up, broke up and reunited, and she’d even played a few rounds of golf with him, although she wasn’t fond of the game; and through it all, he’d remained the laid-back, easygoing guy he always had been. His nature seemed to reflect his upbringing in a small town, where—let’s be honest—things were mighty slow most of the time. Slowness seemed ingrained in his personality. Where she would worry, he would shrug; in her pessimistic moments, he remained unconcerned. That was why, she thought, they got along so well. They balanced each other. They were good for each other. There would be no contest if the choice came down to Kevin or Travis, not even close.
Having reached clarity on the issue, she decided it didn’t matter whether Travis was flirting. He could flirt all he wanted; in the end, she knew exactly what she wanted in her life. She was sure of it.
Just as Travis had promised, Molly was better than Gabby had hoped. Her tail thumped with enthusiasm, and despite the presence of her puppies—most of which were sleeping and resembled furry little balls—she got up without a struggle when Gabby entered and trotted toward her before applying a few sloppy licks. Molly’s nose was cold, and she wiggled and whined as she circled Gabby, not with her usual abandon, but enough to let Gabby know she was fine, and then sat beside Gabby.
“I’m so glad you’re better,” Gabby whispered, stroking her fur.
“I am, too,” Travis’s voice echoed behind her from the doorway. “She’s a real trouper, and she’s got a wonderful disposition.”
Gabby turned around and saw him leaning against the door.
“I think I was wrong,” he said, walking toward her, holding a Fuji apple. “She could probably go home tonight, if you want to pick her up after work. I’m not saying you have to. I’d be happy to keep her here if you’d be more comfortable with it. But Molly’s doing even better than I predicted.” He squatted and lightly snapped his fingers, turning his attention away from Gabby. “Aren’t you a good girl,” he said, using what can best be described as an “I love dogs and won’t you come to me?” kind of voice
.
Surprising her, Molly left Gabby’s side to go to him, where he took over the petting and whispering, leaving Gabby feeling like an outsider.
“And these little guys are doing great, too,” he went on. “If you do bring them home, make sure you put together some sort of pen to keep them contained. Otherwise, it can get kind of messy. It doesn’t have to be fancy—just prop a few boards against some boxes—and make sure to line it with newspaper.”
She barely heard him as, despite herself, she noted again how good-looking he was. It annoyed her that she couldn’t get past that every time she saw him. It was as if his appearance constantly set off alarm bells in her, and for the life of her, she didn’t know why. He was tall and lean, but she’d seen lots of guys like that. He smiled a lot, but that wasn’t unusual. His teeth were almost too white—he was a definite bleacher, she decided— but even if she knew the color wasn’t natural, it still had an effect. He was fit, too, but guys like that could be found in every gym in America—guys who worked out religiously, guys who never ate anything but chicken breasts and oatmeal, guys who ran ten miles a day—and none of them had ever had the same effect on her.