Unexpected Gift(37)

“We danced.”

“Jesus, who cares. We danced. So what? It was dancing. Plenty of people do it. Don’t let it ruin the situation we have going on here.”

“Oh, yeah. No. I know that. I’m glad we are on the same page, then.” He steps closer, and the breeze invades my lungs with his clean, pine scent. He smells so good. That smell has kept me up every night this week, waking me up from vivid, sexual dreams. That damn smell has started to haunt me, and I want to be exorcized of it.

Strands of his wet hair dribble on his dark blue shirt. He showered. He has showered and yep, there they are, the images, like a damn camera roll showing me what he might look like naked. Since I don’t know, I have to conjure up ideas of my own, and he looks amazing naked.

His hair would be slicked down from the water and the droplets cascade off his lips, soaking them, tempting me to quench my thirst by sucking them into my mouth. The water would travel down his chest, flowing through the valley of his abs.

“Molly!” He snaps his fingers in front of me, yanking me out of my amazing day dream because it is ten times better than reality.

I clear my throat and bend down to grab my cardigan. “Sorry, I zoned out for a second.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine; I’m just tired. Posie didn’t sleep well last night, so that meant I didn’t sleep well. It’s fine, though. Don’t you have a brain to cut into or something tonight?” I cover myself up with my sweater, hiding my cleavage. There is a lot of it in this tank top, and I don’t feel comfortable showing it since my nipples are hard, begging to be squeezed. It isn’t from him or how good he smelt; it is because of the wind.

Yep. The wind.

“Nope, not tonight. I have the next three days off. I can’t wait.”

Crap. “Oh, yeah. That will be great. You’ll need to catch up on sleep or something.” I scratch the side of my arm.

He bends down and picks up Posie. The porch groans under his weight as he turns around and goes back inside with the car seat.

I still can’t believe we live here. And I can’t believe he bought this house for everyone. It is so beautiful that it is hard to believe that I get to live in it. “Do you want some tea? I’m going to put the kettle on.”

“Sure. That would be great, thanks.” He picks Posie up and sits in the recliner, laying her down on his chest.

There he goes again, making it really hard to dislike him. The more I try, the more I fail. He kisses Posie’s head and rubs her back. She yawns and coos before snuggling into his chest and falling asleep. He is so damn good with her, and it makes it even harder to fight the feelings.

I fill the kettle up with water, placing it on the stove. As the water heats, I walk into the living room and sit down on the oversized leather couch. “So, tell me about your week. How have you been? How is work?”

He yawns and shrugs one shoulder. His hand never stops rubbing her back. “Honestly? It was the roughest week of my life.”

A whistle rings through the air quicker than I thought it would, startling me. I place my hand to my chest, feeling the fast race of my heart against my sternum.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, that just scared me is all. Let me make our tea, and I’d love to hear about your week.” Right? Friends do this. I can talk about work and ask how he is. We have a lifetime of Posie, so we might as well be friends.

“Sure, thanks.”

I take a deep breath as I pour the steaming, hot water in the mugs. I follow it with honey and stir, leaving the bags seeping in the heated liquid. I tie the string to the handle and go back into the living room, placing his tea on the nightstand beside him.

“Thank you.”

“It isn’t a problem.” I pucker my lips and blow the steam from mine, trying to cool it down. I snag a soft blanket and sit on the couch, covering myself. I blow on the tea again and sip. It is still too hot. “So why was this week the worst?”

“Ah, you don’t want to hear me complain.”

I bring the steaming-hot mug to my lips and smile. “I really do. I can’t imagine what it is like to be a brain doctor. It’s just bandaids, right?”

“Something like that,” he nods, but doesn’t smile or laugh, and I feel like I insulted him.

I gather my hair in my hand and sling over my right shoulder. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like your job isn’t hard. I was just kidding. I really couldn’t imagine being a neurosurgeon, Caden. Your job is very commendable.”

He nearly chokes on his tea and places the mug down. “No, god no. I didn’t think you did. I lost a patient this week is all. It’s been tough dealing with it.” He pinches his eyes closed, rubbing his free hand over his face.

My heart breaks for him. I know I couldn’t do a job that put someone else’s life in my hands. That took someone special. “I’m so sorry, Caden. What happened? If I can ask that.”

He sighs as he leans his head back against the soft cushion of the recliner. “ I got paged to the emergency room for a patient that had been in a car accident with a severe head trauma. Once I got down there, I was stunned. I mean, I knew saving the guy would be a long shot. A part of his skull was missing. I could literally see his brain pulsating and swelling by the second the longer I stood there. He had a bad brain bleed, and by the time I finally got to it, it was too late. He had a wife and three kids. He was someone’s brother, someone’s son, someone’s husband. I felt like I took all of that from them.”