Текст книги "Then Came You"

Автор книги: Jill Shalvis

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Seven

One week after Wyatt’s and Emily’s first real conversation in the staff room, he got up even earlier than usual and ran to the store for everything he needed. Then he dragged Darcy out of bed. Too tired to deal with her walker, he carried her down the hall to the kitchen.

“What the—” she started grumpily, stopping when she saw the balloons, flowers, and blueberry muffins he’d just gotten.

“Oh, good catch,” she said yawning. “It’s Zoe’s birthday.”

“Yeah, and you’re going to help make a stupid big deal out of it.” Wyatt had long ago learned that the way to a woman’s heart was through gestures he didn’t always understand, so he knew enough not to question the power of celebrating a birthday in a huge way.

This, through some trial and error over the years, had come to mean decorations no matter how “Hallmark,” and something delicious that wasn’t allowed on a normal day. Zoe had been claiming to be fighting five pounds all year, and had banned muffins from the house.

But he knew she’d want one today, because according to her, calories didn’t exist on birthdays. Just like they didn’t exist for any dessert that had fruit in it.

He shoved Darcy’s walker at her and gathered up all the decorations. Then he got them both down the hall and to Zoe’s room.

There, they flipped on her light and sang “Happy Birthday” to her while she fought her tangled sheets to sit up, swearing at them the whole time.

When that didn’t stop them from singing as loudly and off-key as they could—a sibling tradition—she threw her pillows at them.

And then the book on her nightstand.

Wyatt ducked in time, but the book knocked a lamp over. Of course it broke, and then Darcy cut her finger on the glass. They yelled at each other over the lamp, the glass, Darcy’s cut finger, and then Wyatt shoved Zoe’s present beneath her nose.

A gift certificate to an entire day’s pampering at the spa.

She went still, and then, oh Christ, her eyes filled. She chucked her last pillow at him. “How did you know I needed this more than my next breath?” she demanded.

Wyatt smiled and tossed her a box of tissues.

Darcy punched him on the arm. “Don’t you dare take credit for knowing,” she said, and then turned to Zoe. “He knew because you left us a very specific list, as you damn well know. You e-mailed, texted, and put it on Facebook.”

Zoe laughed. “Oh, yeah.” She held out her arms.

Wyatt and Darcy both took a mistrustful step back. Well, Wyatt did. Darcy, gripping her walker, ducked reflexively.

“No, I mean it,” Zoe said, and waggled her fingers in a “come here” gesture. “I want a damn hug.”

“You need a Midol to go with it?” Darcy asked warily.

“No!”

Hoping to avoid yet another physical altercation, losing any more furniture—or his head—Wyatt shoved Darcy ahead of him. Naturally, the “hug” included some noogies and lots of bone crunching, but hey, there was no more bloodshed.

And then he heard the telltale sniff. Grimacing, he pulled back and gave Zoe a pained look. “Again?”

She swiped a tear. “Dammit! I didn’t expect to get all sappy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s because you’re old now,” Darcy said.

Wyatt wrapped an arm around her neck, covering her mouth with his hand.

“Mmffl!” Darcy said.

“Zip it, I’m saving your life,” he said. He looked at Zoe. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She sent them each a watery smile. “I know this is a birthday, but I gotta say, the crazy makes it feel a lot like how our first Thanksgiving together with just the three of us went, doesn’t it?”

They’d never celebrated Thanksgiving growing up. They’d never been in the States in November. But they’d celebrated this year, and not surprisingly, had fought like cats and dogs. Being here together now, fighting like cats and dogs yet again, he agreed that this was exactly what Thanksgiving had been like—crazy as shit. And crazy wonderful.

The next few days at work with one adorably sexy Dr. Emily Stevens flew, and he was getting pretty good with the ignoring thing. Or at least he’d done a good job with the faking of the ignoring thing.

Because she, with her tough, smart ways, was pretty damn difficult to ignore.

Except she wasn’t going to stick. She had one foot out the door. He didn’t have to work at remembering that—he couldn’t forget it. “So,” he said conversationally as they scrubbed up for their first patient. “How many days left?”

“Three hundred and forty-seven.”

He’d been just teasing her, but her ready answer was a sober reminder. Like his parents, like his ex-fiancée, like at least one of his sisters, she was yet another person in his life with one foot out the door. He needed to remember that.

The day was long and challenging as they saw twenty-two patients. They’d done their best for each of them, and each of them had appreciated it. It had been in every soft, warm lick, every tail wag, and in some cases, a rumbly purr.

It was the people who owned his patients who were the pains in his ass.

Mr. Thicket hadn’t appreciated being kept waiting and had bellowed at Jade behind the receptionist desk.

Since Dell had flown north to a client’s ranch to inoculate horses that morning, Wyatt was in charge. When he heard Mr. Thicket go off, he excused himself from a patient’s room and strode out to the front, standing in front of Jade’s desk, hands on hips to face Mr. Thicket. “Problem?”

“You have incompetent help.” He jabbed a finger at Jade.

Wyatt couldn’t see Jade, but he could feel her narrow her eyes. Jade was a lot of things, and maybe impatient was one of them, but incompetent? Hell, no. In fact, she was just about the most competent woman he’d ever met.

“You need to fire her,” Mr. Thicket said.

Wyatt had a very long fuse, but that fuse didn’t extend to a guy taking his frustration out on a woman, no matter that the woman in question had a baseball bat behind her desk and knew self-defense moves that could take down a man twice her size. “You have two choices,” he told Mr. Thicket. “Wait outside while I treat your dog, or go somewhere else to be treated.”

Mr. Thicket glared at him, weighing his options. There weren’t many. Everyone and their brother knew that there was no comparable animal center to Belle Haven for two hundred miles.

“It’s cold out there,” Mr. Thicket said. “Effing fall arrived.”

“Two choices,” Wyatt repeated, unmoved.

In the end, Mr. Thicket huffed and puffed, but went outside, where he proceeded to bitch to every person who walked in or out the front door until Wyatt finished seeing his dog.

The day didn’t improve when he was assisting Emily in treating a ferret named Franko and Franko’s owner—a teenage girl—grabbed the animal incorrectly. Franko lashed out, going right for Emily’s face. Wyatt caught him in mid-air, and got his finger bit nearly to the bone for his efforts.

Emily treated him in the staff room. He could tell she was shaken—not at the blood, she had nerves of steel—but that it was his finger and not hers. “You shouldn’t have done that for me,” she said.

In all truth, it had been instinct. He’d have done it for anyone.

“Does it hurt?” she asked softly when she was done with him.

“If I say yes, you going to kiss it better?”

She rolled her eyes and cleaned up.

Wyatt had no idea why he baited her.

Okay, he knew. After being near her for the past couple of weeks, and then remembering how good their long-ago night had been, seeing that they still had chemistry and knowing it would be that good again now, he wanted her. He wanted her naked beneath him, her tongue in his mouth, her legs wrapped around his back, her hips rocking up to meet his until they both came so hard they saw stars.

And she could take or leave him. The fucking story of his life.

A few hours later, Franko’s owner was back. The teenager had bought Wyatt a present—a tie with puppies and kittens on it. Jade made him wear the tie for the rest of the afternoon.

Much later, he stood at the front desk after their last patient, getting his messages from Jade and giving Gertie some love. His day was topped off when Cassandra Hastings came in carrying a casserole dish.

Cassandra was in her forties, unhappily single, and a regular at Belle Haven. She always paid on time and was polite. And warm and friendly.

Very warm and friendly.

“Here she comes,” Jade warned him beneath her breath. “The cougar, at six o’clock.”

“Cougar!” Peanut the parrot yelled, and ducked dramatically.

Wyatt turned his body away. Cassandra had a problem with roaming hands. And sure enough, she set the casserole dish down on the counter to give him a hug.

He pretended he’d dropped something, and evaded, a maneuver he’d gotten good at.

“Brought you lobster ravioli,” she said. “Your sister said it was your favorite.”

Wyatt was going to kill Zoe. Or maybe Darcy. Hell, he’d just kill them both and be done with it.

Jade, behind her counter, gave him the laughing eyes. She knew damn well that the last time he hadn’t turned away fast enough, Cassandra had copped a feel. Not something he cared to repeat.

Cassandra patted the casserole dish. “I’ve been told I make the best lobster ravioli this side of the Mississippi. Why don’t I come out to your place tonight to gather the dish?”

“Your place,” Peanut said.

Wyatt glared at the parrot. Jade was no help, she’d ducked behind her computer screen, shoulders shaking with silent laughter, the ingrate.

Taking his silence as consent, Cassandra shifted closer. “Poor baby, I bet you’re exhausted, what with how hard you work and all.”

“I’m not tired,” he said. He’d passed tired about three hours ago. “But I am busy later.”

“No problem.” She smiled and winked. “I’ll come early.”

He heard what he’d have sworn was a gagging noise behind him, and when he craned his head, he met Emily’s gaze.

She nudged Wyatt out of the way and offered her hand to Cassandra. “Dr. Emily Stevens,” she said. “The new intern. Why don’t I go in the back and transfer the dish to another container for you right now so you don’t have to bother Dr. Stone tonight?” It was worded as a question but everyone knew she wasn’t asking, including Cassandra.

She stared at Emily for a long heartbeat before pulling her hand back. “Not necessary,” she finally said. “I’ll get the dish back from him another time.”

“Boner!” Parrot yelled merrily as Cassandra left.

Jade put out her finger and Peanut high-fived her with one of his parrot feet. Then Jade grinned at Emily. “You’re good.” She turned away to answer the phone and then said, “Hold on a sec, they’re both right here.” She hit Speaker. “Go ahead, babe.”

Dell’s voice filled the room. “I can’t get back in time for dinner,” he said. “You two go on without me.”

Their welcome to Belle Haven dinner for Emily. Wyatt had forgotten that was tonight.

Emily stared at him and gave him a wide-eyed head shake that he got loud and clear. She wanted him to get them out of this. It made perfect sense.

But he said nothing.

Emily narrowed her eyes at him, and he found himself smiling.

“Problem?” Dell asked into the silence.

“No,” Emily said. “Of course not.”

“Use the company card, Wyatt, this one’s on me.”

“Got it,” Wyatt said, watching Emily bite her lower lip. The same lower lip he’d once sucked on until she’d moaned his name.

“You should come with us,” Emily said to Jade when Dell had disconnected.

“Oh, that’s sweet, but I can’t. It’s book club night and it’s at our house. You’ll have to join us next time, Emily. Sorry, Wyatt, chicks only.” She stood up and began her closing up routine. “Shoo,” she said to both of them. “Go have dinner. After the day we had, you both deserve it.”

Which is how Wyatt ended up in his truck driving Emily to dinner.

“This is silly,” she said. “You should’ve let me take my car. We could’ve left at the same time, and each gone our own way. No one would’ve ever known that we didn’t do dinner.”

“We’re doing dinner,” he said.

“Why?”

Yeah, genius. Why? “We’re going to be working closely together,” he said. “Ignoring each other isn’t going to work for a whole year.”

“Three hundred and forty-seven days.”

“Or that,” he said. “We might as well settle in and get to know each other.”

She slid him a look. “We already know each other. Far more than we should.”

He laughed. This was true, to an extent. He did know certain things, such as she had a warm, perfectly curvy bod that fit his perfectly. He knew what she tasted like—heaven. And he knew the soft, erotic little sounds she made when she was desperate to come. And those thoughts weren’t helping one little bit. He shifted in his seat. Yeah, definitely, he shouldn’t be remembering any of those things. “We could get to know each other on a conversational level,” he said.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and he did his damnedest not to do the same. “How is that a good idea?” she wanted to know.

“We can learn each other’s tics and idiosyncrasies.”

She stared at him. “You think that if we get to know each other, we won’t like what we learn, and that will put a coolant on our chemistry?”

He laughed a little, unable to help it. But there was a fat chance in hell that they could put a coolant on this thing.

Over there in the passenger’s seat, she turned to face him, arms crossed, clearly having taken his amusement in the wrong way.

“Oh my God,” she said. “You think you won’t like me. Why not?”

He was still smiling. “You already know you don’t like me all that much, so why the hell do you even care?”

“Humor me,” she said, eyes narrowed.

“All right.” He shrugged again. “I don’t want to fall for a woman who has one foot out the door.”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it and turned to the window.

Conversation over. Clearly he was right, which didn’t give him any satisfaction. But he was glad they’d gotten that out in the open. His parents had chosen their life’s calling over their own kids. His ex’s career had meant more than anyone or anything in her life, including him. And here was Emily, giving off that same vibe.

Good thing he learned from his mistakes.

Usually.

“Sounds like you’ve been hurt,” she said softly. “What happened?”

He didn’t like that she read him so easily. And as attracted as he was to her, he knew she wasn’t going to be his, so he had no intention of sharing his own fucked-up life with her.

She surprised him by suddenly seeming hugely relieved at his lack of response. “This is good,” she said, leaning back. “We can’t talk to each other. You know what that means? It means we’re totally unsuited. So all we have to do is not sleep together again, and it’ll be okay.” She glanced over at him. “We can do that, right?”

No, he was pretty sure they couldn’t. His expression must have answered for him.

“Crap,” she said finally. “We’re in big trouble, aren’t we?”

He was saved from having to answer that when his phone rang. He answered on Bluetooth and was shocked as hell when his mother’s voice filled the cab of his truck.

“Wyatt, darling,” she said. “So glad I caught you before I head into the Rome embassy.”

To hear from her was rare enough that his first question was the obvious. “You okay? Is Dad okay?”

“Of course,” she said. “We just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

He felt Emily look at him in surprise. “Mom,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s Zoe’s birthday, not mine.”

There was a long pause. “Are you sure?”

Wyatt choked out a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Huh,” his mom said. “Okay, well, tell her I said happy birthday.”

His eye twitched. “Mom, you should tell her yourself.”

“No time now, darling. Call her for me, okay?”

“I don’t need to call her, I live with her,” he said.

“You’re still in Sunshine then, at Nana’s?” she asked with a whisper of disbelief.

Wyatt understood her confusion. His parents thrived on constantly being in motion, moving on to the next great place. They’d given their kids the world, all of it, every single corner, and they couldn’t comprehend them not loving that lifestyle.

“In Nana’s house,” she said. “In that crazy old place. I can’t even believe it’s still standing. How in the world are you managing? And Darcy, with all those stairs?”

None of these were real questions, they were purely rhetorical. His mom cared about the general well-being of her children, she really did. She just never needed the details. “We’re managing fine,” he said.

“But you all fought so much as children,” she said.

Still did, Wyatt thought, remembering the lamp.

“I just figured you’d sell that monstrosity and move on,” she said.

Yeah, definitely, an eye twitch. He put a finger to it. “Mom, I told you and Dad both when I first got here last year, I’m staying in Sunshine.”

“In Idaho,” she said, adding bafflement to her disbelief. “Idaho.”

“Idaho’s beautiful,” he said.

“Yes, but how many people can say they’ve seen the seven wonders of the world before the age of eighteen? And out of all those places, you end up in Idaho.”

“I’m happy here,” he said, very aware of Emily’s gaze on him. Guess she was going to get to know more about him than he’d counted on. “I’m staying.”

“The three of you, together. It’s so . . . domesticated,” she said, still confused.

The truth was, just about everything Wyatt had ever done had confused her. Trying to collect animals wherever they went, wanting to stay in the same school for more than a month, insisting on attending college and vet school in the States. Vet school! That had really baffled her, and now here he was, living in Sunshine, which barely showed up on a map. “I realize your offspring living in nana’s house, fixing it up together, boggles your mind, Mom. But Zoe’s still flying the friendly skies and seeing the world, and I can assure you, Darcy’s as wild and untamable as ever. You did good there, real good.”

“I’m sensing sarcasm, Wyatt James Stone,” his mom said. “You know I don’t like sarcasm.”

He bit his tongue, which went against the grain for him. But talking to her never failed to remind him of why he led the life he did. Growing up, he’d had zero choices. But he had choices now, and no one could take them away.

“I’ve got to run,” his mom said.

The story of his life. But at least he no longer had to pack up and run with her.

“Send my wishes to the girls,” she said.

“Will do—” But she’d disconnected.

Eight

Emily found herself fascinated by the inadvertent peek into Wyatt’s personal life. Fascinated, and full of a surprising empathy. “Your parents live in Rome?” she asked.

Wyatt kept his eyes on the highway as he drove. “This month.”

Interesting that while at first glance he appeared to be relaxed and in his driving zone, his mouth was a little grim, his hands tight on the wheel.

He drove to the next town over from Sunshine, where there were more restaurant options. He parked, and they walked the short distance to the heart of downtown.

“Thai, Mexican, Sushi, or American cuisine,” he asked, gesturing to her choices.

Thai was good, but it always gave her a stomachache. Mexican was even better, but then she’d have pico de gallo breath. Sushi could go either way.

No, wait. A stomachache or bad breath didn’t matter.

Because they weren’t going to sleep together again.

Nope, that ship had sailed. Completely. Gone, over the horizon never to be seen again.

Even if for some crazy reason she wanted to hug him– which was a little like wanting to hug a polar bear—cuddly but rather dangerous.

“Emily?”

Her gaze went to his mouth. Did he know he had a great mouth? “American cuisine,” she heard herself say.

His lips curved. “Emily.”

She lifted her gaze to his and winced at his knowing smirk. Busted. Had she thought he needed a hug?

“Better,” he said.

“Hey, maybe you have something on your mouth,” she said. “Like a crumb or something.”

“Do I?”

She bit her lower lip. Save face and lie? Or come clean and admit she was lusting after him. Lie, she decided. “Yes,” she said.

“Where?” He swiped his forearm over his mouth. “Better?”

She couldn’t explain herself in a million years, but she shook her head and went up on tiptoes, touching his lips with her fingertips. “Here,” she whispered, and then, clearly in the throes of a psychotic break, she pressed her mouth to the spot.

Wyatt’s hands went to her hips, tightening their grip when she pulled back.

“You get it?” he asked, voice low but tinged with amusement as well as heat.

Not trusting her voice, she nodded, and telling herself that was absolutely the last time she touched—or kissed– him, they went inside the restaurant. They ordered bacon blue burgers and seasoned sweet potato fries, and some locally brewed beer.

The food was fantastic.

So was the company.

In Emily’s world, there were pretty much three levels of existence; bad, okay, and good. Bad was having her mom slowly die over a five year period from complications of MS. Okay was attending vet school after earning her undergraduate degree, but nearly killing herself to do it, because she had to keep a job on the side to pay for such luxuries as eating and helping her dad with medical bills. Good was pretty much the same, but school was finally over and she was actually working at her dream job—albeit about a thousand miles away from where she’d planned. In one year though, she could have her dream job, in her dream location. Life might achieve great status.

She didn’t see room for a distraction named Wyatt. She understood the attraction—she’d have to be dead and buried not to be attracted to him, but he was a damn big deviance from her Plan.

Too big.

One beer loosened her tongue, two beers separated it from her brain. So naturally she had two. “Your mom’s interesting.”

“She’s something,” he said.

“What does she do?”

“She and my dad are foreign diplomats.”

“Wow. Impressive.” From what she’d heard, it sounded like he and his sisters had been on their own for a long time. And on top of that, his mom had seemed downright disinterested in his life.

Her own mom had been the opposite. She’d been snoopy, nosy, bossy, and . . . amazingly wonderful.

It had been several years since her death but Emily still got a lump in her throat just thinking about her. “You must’ve had a very interesting childhood,” she said.

“Sure,” he said. “If you call moving twenty something times between the ages of five and seventeen interesting.”

“So I guess you’re good on a plane,” she said.

“Planes. Trains. Mules . . .” He smiled at her laugh. “Ah. You’ve never been to Morocco.”

“No. I’m a shaky traveler,” she said. “I can’t even sleep through a flight, I have to be awake for the crash.”

Now it was his turn to laugh.

He had a great laugh. And did he know that when he laughed, his eyes laughed, too? Or that his hair curled over his ears in a really sexy way? She forced herself to stop noticing and blamed beer number two. She pushed it away from her.

“Travel enough and it gets easier,” he said.

“We used to vote on our family vacations. Land or sea.” She smiled at the memory. “Land meant driving to the desert and camping out. Sea meant driving twenty minutes to the Los Angeles reservoir. We’d sit on the concrete shore in our drug store beach chairs and pretend we were on a deserted South Pacific island.”

“Hey, at least you got a vote,” he said.

“You didn’t, I take it.”

He shook his head. “I’d come home from school and say, ‘Hey, Mom, just joined the Bolivia soccer team,’ and she’d say, ‘Sorry, Son, we’re going to be in Greenland by this time next week.’”

She couldn’t even imagine. “Did it screw you up?” she asked.

“Nah.” He let out a low rueful laugh and scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Don’t worry, you hide it well,” she teased, trying very hard not to notice that the sound of his hand on his stubbled jaw made her nipples hard.

This wasn’t good. This was the opposite of good. He was open and fun and charming, but he was also being very professional—as she’d requested—and she needed to be, too. Which meant absolutely no more noticing that he smelled good. Or that she wanted to hug him again . . . and climb into his lap. Dammit. “We’re all screwed up by our parents. What are your sisters like? Are they like you?”

“Like me how?”

She bit her lower lip, and he gave her that sexy laugh again. “Oh, don’t hold back now,” he said. “Here’s your chance to tell me what you think of me.”

She thought he was sexy as hell, but she wasn’t about to share that. The truth was, he was wonderful. He came off as laid-back, deceptively carefree, even playful.

But he was much more. At work, he was intuitive, sharp, and also incredibly demanding, expecting the best for his patients, expecting the best out of the staff.

He’d been all those things in bed, too, and at the memory, her body quivered. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember what his hands had felt like on her, guiding her where he wanted, his mouth at her ear, his words turning her on every bit as much as the rest of him.

“No words?” he asked. “Nothing?”

“Maybe a little annoying,” she said primly, and he flashed that knowing smile again.

He knew her way better than was comfortable.

“Your sisters,” she said. “You were going to tell me about your sisters.”

“They’re crazy,” he said. But his tone was affectionate, and there was laughter in his voice. “Zoe’s only eleven months older than me, but she’s been playing mom since she could walk. Darcy’s the baby, and managed to party her way across the planet. They’re both colossal pains in my ass, but for the most part we make it work.”

“You live with them.”

“For now. They needed me.” He shrugged. “Family.”

At the simple statement, and the deep loyalty in it, she nodded. She got that. Learning about his family, how he’d grown up, how he took care of his sisters, it was yet another layer to him that she hadn’t expected.

As for their little experiment of getting to know each other in order to derail their attraction . . . if the low-level hum of arousal buzzing through her system accounted for anything, they hadn’t derailed a single thing. And now, instead of liking him less, she liked him more.

Epic fail.

“I really wanted you to be a jerk,” she admitted softly.

“You wanted to work with a jerk?”

“No, I wanted to not be attracted to you anymore.” She reached for her beer, needing the liquid courage. “Is it just me?” she asked softly into his silence, knowing she shouldn’t. “I’m the only one struggling here?”

He looked at her for a long moment, but didn’t respond to that, either. Instead, he dropped some cash on the table, stood up, and pulled her with him.

Mr. Professional.

She should appreciate the effort. She should replicate his effort. “Where are we going now?”

“Home,” he said, taking her back to his truck, opening the passenger’s door for her. “To bed.”

She went still and assessed her feelings. Her girlie parts were on board. Standing so close to him between the truck and his big, warm, strong body, she gave in. “Okay, good. Maybe just one more time—”

“In our own beds,” he said.

“Oh.” She blew out a breath. Nodded. “I knew that.”