Samantha had never really thought about her accent one way or the other, but she found it adorable that Trey had taken the time and effort to figure out where she born and raised. At least that confirmed he didn’t have a copy of her personnel records, like she had his.
“Actually, you’re pretty close. I’m originally from a small town on the Kenai Peninsula called Homer in Alaska.” She pulled out an artsy-looking T-shirt that Loralei would totally love. “We lived there until I was fourteen, when my dad got an offer to be the chief of cardiology at a hospital in Houston. My grandfather and grandmother still lived in Alaska, so I spent summer vacations with them and sometimes spring break when I was in college.”
“It sounds like you’re really close to them,” he said, holding up a T-shirt and studying the graphic print on the front.
She wondered if she should point out that none of the shirts on the shelves in here had a snowball’s chance of fitting him without being skintight. Not that there was anything wrong with skintight clothing. Not when a man had a body like Trey’s. The image of a soft, cotton tee stretched across his broad chest made all kinds of body parts flutter, quiver, and/or go warm all over again.
“We were close,” she finally said, turning to study a rack of sunglasses when she felt tears burn her eyes. “In some ways, I was closer to them than I am my parents. I know that probably sounds crazy. But they were just so…amazing.”
“It’s not crazy at all,” he said softly. From the sudden warmth against her back, Samantha could tell he’d moved closer. “There’s family we’re born into and family we choose. They’re both important, but some bonds are simply meant to be and there’s no way to tell whom those bonds will develop with…or why. We simply have to accept and believe in them.”
Samantha nodded. She’d never heard it phrased that way, but it sounded like Trey understood what she was talking about. Unfortunately, her mom and dad never really had. Sometimes, it seemed like they were upset that she’d been closer to her grandparents than she was to them.
“They passed away four years ago.” Samantha picked up a pair of sunglasses and looked at them for a moment before putting them back on the rack. “They left their home, thousands of acres of wilderness property, and the wilderness tourism business they owned to me. I think they were hoping I’d move up there and settle down, but while Homer is breathtakingly beautiful, it’s also small, which means there isn’t much call for a full-time medical examiner there. I go up there a couple times a year to make sure the house and property are okay and check in on the business.”
Taking a deep breath, she turned and gave Trey a small smile as she held up the T-shirt. “I think I’m going to get this.”
When they got to the counter, Trey pulled out his wallet, and while she attempted to argue, he waved her off. “Your loss. You could have had a ceramic chicken.”
They browsed around the other shops, laughing over the unusual and sometimes silly stuff they found. Trey picked up a few things, telling her it was never too early to buy Christmas gifts for his teammates. She swore for a second he almost tripped up and saidpack matesbut caught himself at the last second.
In between shopping and listening to the band, they stopped for food whenever something struck their fancy, from a French silk chocolate pie with pretzel crust at a bakery that smelled like absolute heaven, to half a pound of fudge at the fancy chocolatier shop at the far end of the district. Samantha thought they’d take the fudge with them, but it tasted so good, they ended up eating it all as they walked. She didn’t even bother feeling guilty about it, either. The way she looked at it, all the walking would burn off the calories as soon as they ate them. That was her story, and she was sticking to it. Besides, Trey ate most of it.
“You mentioned that your dad’s a cardiac surgeon and that your sister works in a lab, so making a career in medicine sounds like it’s a family affair,” Trey said as he held open the door to a rather eclectic-looking bookshop/café. “Did you always want to be a medical examiner?”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve wanted to work with dead people since I was a child,” she said casually, perusing the mismatched books on the shelves across from the long wooden bar. Truly, she’d never been in a bookstore with a bar before. It was a match made in heaven as far as she was concerned. “So it was either an ME or a mortician.”
She was disappointed when Trey didn’t even bat an eye at her joke. “That must have been a tough choice. How did you decide?”
“Sorry for the gallows humor.” She gave him a wry smile. “But you have no idea how many times I get asked that question. Dad still asks me at least once a year and he already knows the answer.”
“I didn’t mean to stick my nose somewhere it doesn’t belong,” Trey said. “If it’s something you’d rather not talk about, I get it.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. In my experience, doctors become medical examiners for one of two reasons. It’s either because they lack the empathy and compassion to interact with patients, or they possess too much empathy and compassion and can’t maintain the required emotional distance from their patients. It my case, it was the latter. I became close with an elderly patient in one of my practicums and when the woman died, it really did a number on me.”
“Ah,” he said with a nod. “Based on my experience as a combat medic and then as a paramedic, I’m thinking that probably happens a lot.”
“Yeah, I know,” Samantha admitted. “But there was no way I could ever put myself through that again. I talked to my advisers and at the end of that semester I transferred to a pathology program. It added another year onto my student loan debt, but I never looked back.”
She turned, expecting to see some level of condemnation or pity on Trey’s face. Her dad had certainly thrown enough of the first her way, while the friends she’d made during her pre-med program had provided the second. But Trey was regarding her with approval.
“This is going to sound selfish, but I’m personally glad you went the ME route.” Settling his hands on her hips, he tugged her closer. “If you hadn’t, we might never have met. And I think that would definitely have been my loss.”
Samantha decided that had to be the cheesiest line she’d ever heard. But for some incredibly silly reason, she loved hearing it all the same.
“So,” she said softy, leaning into him just enough to press her breasts against the hard planes of his chest. “What else is on the agenda for the evening? Beyond helping me reaffirm my career choice, I mean.”
Trey tilted his head down, and for a moment, Samantha was sure he was going to kiss her right there in the middle of the bookstore. But instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose—like he was breathing in her scent—then flashed her one of those knee-weakening smiles.
“I figure there are at least a dozen more shops for us to check out as part of your retail-therapy session. Then we could go to the pizza place at the end of the block to grab a few slices before the movie, if you want. Maybe even stop by one more time to look at that ceramic chicken you had your eye on earlier before heading back to your place.”
Samantha wasn’t so sure about the ceramic chicken part of the plan, but the rest of it—especially the part about going back to her apartment—sounded excellent.
***
“You feel like some coffee?” Samantha asked as she opened the door to her apartment. “Or maybe something a little stronger.”
“Coffee would be good.”
