Holiday House Call Page 6

  It just didn’t generally happen three separate times.

  But they’d somehow managed to save Taylor’s life. They’d managed to save her mobility, save her ability to speak and hear. They hadn’t been able to save her sight, though, and giving that news to her husband had been brutal.

  But the boys are in the Christmas pageant, Gabe had said, clearly not yet able to truly process the magnitude of what they were dealing with. Will she at least be able to see them next year?

  Karen had kept it professional, of course. Not once during the conversation had she allowed even one tear to gather. But thank God it had been a Tuesday because that was the one day per week she allowed herself to cry. Having just broken that rule the night Tuck pulled her over, Karen couldn’t afford to break it again. Opening up those floodgates would be a disaster of epic proportions.

  “Are you okay?”

  Karen looked up to see Ryan staring at her, his head cocked to one side. “Of course I’m okay.”

  He just kept looking at her, not dropping his gaze for a good fifteen or twenty seconds. Then he took her by the hand and pulled her around the corner. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”

  Karen almost laughed. She loved Ryan; she truly did. And she appreciated the offer. But he had a penis and she didn’t. They lived in two different worlds. Yes, he certainly had to deal with his share of issues on the job front. They’d had more than a few nights of trading stories, seeing whose could top the other’s. More often than not it was a flat-out tie.

  What she’d never really talked to him about, however—what she could never joke about—was her prime directive of not once, never ever, letting on how much what she did every day affected her. That, back when she’d first started doing rounds, she’d been called out in front of everyone by the attending and told to lose the “ditzy” blonde-haired, blue-eyed look because it wasn’t confidence inspiring among the patients, especially when she couldn’t manage to keep her emotions to herself. Old-school, but still humiliating to have someone she’d respected treat her that way. And that, after, yes, a few days of crying, she’d decided to, a) completely contain any future emotional response ever, and, b) take the passive-aggressive route by wearing the girly-girliest lip gloss she could find—sometimes, even, with glitter—plus make sure her highlights never faded.

  Then she kicked every one of her classmates’ asses, graduated at the top of her class, and developed a reputation so spectacular that when she’d decided to leave Denver two years back, she’d had to hire an assistant to handle the job offers.

  But under no circumstances would she ever allow anyone she worked with—even Ryan—see her cry. Or know that she did it regularly. “I’m absolutely fine. Perfectly content. In fact, I’m probably the happiest person I know.”

  Ryan had the nerve to let his mouth drop open at that. “Oh, Karen, please tell me you don’t actually believe that.”

  She frowned. Okay, so maybe happiest was an exaggeration, but still.

  Just for that, however, she absolutely wasn’t going to tell him she’d been the one to decide to drive out to Inspiration for lunch even though Zach had said he’d be perfectly happy to come to her as usual.

  Because she didn’t want the usual. Her routine on her days off was to get up early, go for a run, and then do some shopping. Her general feeling about her routine was perfect contentment, whether Ryan believed that or not. Today it just seemed kind of lonely. Sad.

  Since she was not a sad person, that whole sentiment just didn’t sit right. So, being the completely fine, I-am-totally-in-control-of-my-life person that she was, she’d chosen to shake it up.

  She was not, however, making any house calls.

  Getting the conversation back in hand, she told Ryan. “If you must know, since I’m having lunch with Zach today, I thought I’d stop here first to check Justin’s records and make sure everything’s going okay.” She wanted to know what she was walking into just in case she ran into someone from that night. Not that she’d recognize most of them, but still.

  And anyway, “What are you doing here?”

  After all Ryan generally had the same days on and off as Karen did, and if she had no reason to be here, he had even less of one. But since his ulterior motives were entirely out there, he had absolutely no problem coming clean. “Because I’m hanging out with Tim tonight, and I wanted to be up on the details.” Then Ryan leaned against the wall. “So we’re interested in seeing Officer Hottie again?”

  Karen attempted to keep any expression off of her face, but she may have found it a little bit difficult. “I’m sure Officer Hottie is very busy today. I mean, Tuck. Tuck is very busy.” Because that had to be the reason he hadn’t called her. They’d spent a very nice few hours together—which was exactly what he’d been going for, right? Sure, he’d been pretty clear on wanting something more than she did, but she’d never met a man who truly wasn’t interested in sex. Especially one who made no bones about the fact that he was attracted to her. And especially when they’d already slept together and it had been pretty perfect.

  So, honestly, she was sure he had a very good excuse.

  But in the time it took to get to Inspiration—fifteen minutes longer than it should have because she got stuck behind a damn tractor—she’d worked herself up into a bit of a state.

  What was his problem? Being a freaking doctor wasn’t enough?

  Or maybe it was too much. Maybe he was one of those guys who always had to be the best, who couldn’t stand someone who might be smarter than he was. Make more money than he did. Maybe it was fine to sleep with her when she’d been the blonde from the bar, but when she was one of the top neurosurgeons in the country, he couldn’t handle it.

  Which was exactly the reason she’d grown ultra-selective over the years. These days she was very private about the details of her life. She’d become an expert in reading between the lines of all those online profiles, and even better at managing a conversation so it was all about the guy and very little about her. Although that part wasn’t exactly difficult. Twirl some hair around your finger, lick your lips once or twice, and their thoughts went in one direction pretty damn quick.

  Again, she had to ask, what was Tuck’s problem?

  And so, when she got to Inspiration, having already texted Zachary she’d be late, she parked her car in one of the spots that lined the town green, zipped her jacket, and turned toward the police station rather than Deacon’s Bar and Grille.

  It was a cute little building, with big pots of mums lining the sidewalk and an aw-shucks, homey feeling that was similar to the one in Karen’s own hometown and where her father had spent his days. Which Karen would have been fine with if she hadn’t walked into the building to see Tuck with strings of holiday lights wrapped around his hands as he sat back against a desk, holding them out for the extremely attractive woman—also in uniform—in front of him to detangle. With a box of decorations that looked like some kind of Thanksgiving/Christmas mash-up.

  It wasn’t even Halloween yet! Karen cleared her throat.

  Just as he’d done at the high school, Tuck did a double take, standing up straight as the woman turned to Karen. “May I help you, ma’am?”

  What was it with these people? Did they not realize that perhaps women in their thirties did not like to be called “ma’am,” or was that just a thing they did here?

  Tuck must’ve been able to read Karen’s mood, because he didn’t even let her answer the question. “Karen’s a friend of mine.” Putting the lights down on the desk, he reached over and nudged open the little gate thing that let her pass behind the counter. Then he straightened up and gestured to one of the doors lining the back wall, presumably for Karen to go ahead.

  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” he added to the woman at the desk.

  A few minutes. Hmph.

  Hi
s office was more cluttered than she would have guessed. There were a lot of pictures of him with various teams, all ages being represented. A box of T-shirts sat in the corner, and a mesh bag full of basketballs was on top of it. The desk was covered with folders and stacks of paper although the piles were pretty neat.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked, a smile in his voice as Karen heard the click of his office door closing behind him.

  She tried not to be too snarly as she turned to him. “You didn’t call.”

  Rather than get defensive or angry, he raised his eyebrows and laughed. “Neither did you.”

  “I think I was pretty clear I was interested in seeing you again.”

  He leaned back against the door. “So let me get this straight—you don’t like the ‘ma’am,’ you don’t like me helping you into your car or opening the door for you, but the guy is supposed to ask the girl on a date rather than the other way around.”

  Karen frowned. “First of all, it’s ‘woman,’ not girl. And second of all, it’s not a date.”

  Now he put his hands in his pockets. “First of all, I concede the point. And second of all, since that’s exactly where we left things last time, that puts us at an impasse.”

  “Was it that bad? You really don’t want to sleep with me again?”

  All traces of a smile were gone immediately as he straightened up and put himself right in front of her. “You know it wasn’t. And you know I do.”

  She refused to take a step back to reclaim her personal space. But that meant the collar of his shirt was right at eye level and it was really difficult not to lean forward and lick the skin at the hollow of his throat. She craned her neck to look up at him. “I told you I don’t have time to date.”

  He stared down at her, clearly exasperated. “Well, Karen, it’s not like high school where you have to walk around everywhere with your hands in each other’s pockets. You have a car, I have a car, and we don’t live that far apart. For shit’s sake, it’s just dinner.”

  She felt a little breathless standing so close to him. She wanted him to kiss her again, of all things. She wanted to get up on her tippy-toes and kiss him the way she’d done the night he’d pulled her over. But although she had no problem whatsoever telling him she wanted to sleep with him again, kissing wasn’t something she took lightly. Sex was a physical act that, if done correctly, built up to that deliciously unbearable point and then released. Every species did it to some extent, and, if necessary, one could get to the end result all on one’s own.

  Kissing felt much more intimate. Except when you were thirteen and practicing in front of the mirror, it was not something to do on one’s own. It wasn’t something every species did. It was emotional. Intense.

  She’d kissed him that night because she thought she wouldn’t see him again.

  She’d let him kiss her after the dinner at Deacon’s because she’d had no intention at that point of allowing herself to see him again, especially not after wondering if that was how her father had made her mother feel, and if missing that was why her mom had become a hollow shell after her dad had died.

  Yet here Karen was.

  She moved around to the side of the desk so she wouldn’t be tempted. “So Mr. Goody Two-shoes cusses.”

  He didn’t smile or laugh or even get defensive, the way any truly polite gentleman would do. Instead, he looked at her for a few long seconds before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Why are you here, Karen?”

  “I’m having lunch with my cousin,” she snapped, then immediately felt contrite. “I thought maybe I’d check in with you to see how Justin was doing.”

  Which was a blatant lie, of course—in fact she’d very specifically not come here to do that. But she wasn’t about to admit the truth, even if it would be a very weird thing for her to just show up at the high school to track the boy down. Weird and, possibly, criminal.

  “You’re making a house call?”

  No, damn it.

  A smile passed over his face, gone almost as soon as it appeared. “How small town of you.” Catching on to the fact she wasn’t in the mood to be teased, he quickly added, “Having a hard time being benched for a couple of weeks, but otherwise good.” He leaned back against the door again and crossed his arms over his chest, watching her a little too closely. His voice dropped down to an octave that made her want to curl up at his feet. That was until she registered the words he said: “And how about you? It’s been a tough few days.”

  She brought her head up sharply. He knew about Taylor?

  He knew about Taylor and was still speaking to her?

  Not that Karen could have done anything differently—not that she would have done anything differently. But sometimes patients didn’t understand that. Their families very often didn’t. And her kids were so young. How could they possibly understand anything about what was happening?

  “Karen...”

  Not allowing herself to meet his eyes, she took a few steps backward, feeling behind her for the wall. She was not going to cry. She didn’t cry. Couldn’t. Only Bruiser saw that side of her, and only on Tuesdays.

  Well, and any cops who might happen to pull her over.

  Then Tuck said, “I know you had to make a choice. They know you would have saved her sight if you could have. They’ll adjust, Karen. Gabe will still have his wife to come home to. Those kids still have their mom.”

  A sob wracked Karen’s body despite every effort to keep it inside of her.

  And suddenly Tuck’s arms were around her and she was clutching his shirt and words were spewing out of her mouth, her tears an unending stream. “But what if they don’t? What if Gabe can’t be there for her? Or what if all he cares about is her, and his kids have to fend for themselves? What happens to them then?” And, oh, God, she could not believe she was going here, but, “And what happens if we did actually date? And we ran into her family and they hated me? And then they hated you, too?”

  Yes, she had officially lost it, and in front of someone who knew the people she was talking about. It was the most unprofessional thing she’d ever done, and there were more than a few people from her past who, she was sure, would have loved to hear about every second of it. Of course those would also be the ones who had ridiculed her mercilessly for crying on her first-ever day of rounds, and who then took great joy in berating her for being too emotional to ever succeed in medicine.

  Assholes.

  Tuck was not an asshole. But he certainly had some old-fashioned—she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt and not call it chauvinistic—ideas about women. Not that she needed to prove anything to him, but she went to great lengths not to show anything close to weakness, and here she’d gone and broken down on him entirely.

  “Well, you know,” he said, “that’s a lot to think about. And one particular part really gives me pause.”

  Her heart broke a little even though she’d very deliberately not allowed it to get engaged. She tensed as she waited for him to tell her that she was right, that they would hate her, and no wonder she’d failed Taylor and Gabe so miserably, given that she couldn’t even manage to get a grip. She would have avoided looking at him entirely, except he gently tipped her chin up, thereby forcing her to.

  “Somewhere in there it sounded like we were out on a date.” The smile he gave her held nothing but warmth. “But you were very clear about the fact that wasn’t on the table.”

  If he weren’t holding her chin in his hand, her mouth would have dropped open. “I... What?”

  Rather than move away, he pulled her closer with one hand, the other caressing her jaw and everything inside of her melted. “I mean I know you’re smarter than I am, so I could be completely confused, but, yeah, that sure seemed like you were asking me out.”

  He actually ma
de her laugh. “I didn’t just ask you out.”

  Truly looking sad as he shook his head, he replied, “I’m sorry to say it, but I think you did.”

  Now she slapped his chest. “I did not.”

  “And you have excellent timing,” he continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “Because I’m free tonight. I’d be happy to come to you.” He let go of her and backed away, showing that he had at least some sense of self-preservation, which, honestly, was good to see, given that he was a cop. “Or even better, I can just meet you after lunch and run you by the high school so you can see Justin for yourself.”

  She stared at Tuck grimly. That was a terrible idea. Justin wasn’t her patient and she absolutely shouldn’t be anywhere in his vicinity. “I should be done by 1:30.”

  Hell.

  Chapter Nine

  He needed not to be invested. There was a reason Tuck hadn’t called her despite spending every single night getting as far as picking up the phone to do that very thing. He liked for the women he did date to at least have a passing interest in going out—and although he had no specific plans for anything long-term, it would be nice if she didn’t practically get hives at the thought of spending time in the place Tuck called home.

  She was here, though. And for some reason, she’d come to see him. She’d cried in front of him, in fact, something he never would have expected to see, even after pulling her over under, he was guessing, similar circumstances.

  It had gutted him.

  So now what? He was going to just drive her to the high school, have her see that Justin was doing fine, and then let her flit out of his life again?

  There were definitely red flags here. They were coming at this from completely opposite approaches, and he’d had enough relationships in his life to know it was hard enough even when you did start out on the same page. But the idea of just letting her go didn’t sit well with him either. Not even a little bit. So he was going to take full advantage of this opportunity to chauffeur her around, maybe even try and convince her she had the wrong idea about Inspiration.