I tilted my head down but watched Matt. His eyes rarely stopped moving, usually only if he held eye contact with me.
He wiped his mouth after dribbling mayonnaise onto his scruff.
I’ll miss him when this is all over. Nope. I shoved the thought way back down into the black hole it belonged in.
Catching feelings wasn’t on my to-do list. At least not yet.Maybe after I buy the clinic and complete the changes I want to implement.
When I told Carol my ideas, she encouraged me to start right away.
That meant reading a lot of peer-reviewed papers and contacting leading researchers in the field. My mind was bursting with new information I wanted to share with my mom.
Beth too. She was old enough for her hormones to decline, but young enough to make changes that could minimize the effects of hormonal upheaval.
“What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”
“Pretty little head?” I asked, duplicating the tone my mom used when she wanted us to see the error of our ways.
“Sorry. You look contemplative. What’s on your mind?”
Good boy.
“Though you do have a pretty head.”
“That’s such an odd compliment.”
“Did I redeem myself?”
I laughed. “Yes. And for your information, I was thinking about a peer-reviewed paper I’m reading. I emailed the authors asking them to mentor me as I make changes at the clinic.”Pretty little head, my ass. “I want to give my patients the best care modern medicine can provide.”
“Smart and beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I dipped my head and focused on my soup to hide my pink cheeks.
Matt behaved himself as we finished our lunch and was the perfect gentleman during the drive back to the clinic.
“I didn’t get that feeling.”
“Like you were being watched?”
“Yeah. Did you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean we can let our guard down.”
“I know.” Remembering that wanting to get my license to carry a gun so I wouldn’t feel so unprepared, I asked, “Hey Matt, would you mind taking me to the range?”
“SSI owns a range, why not ask…” he chuckled. “Right, do I need to keep it a secret?”
“No, I just don’t want my brothers being obnoxious about helping me.”
I’d learned to shoot pistols when I was young. Dad had insisted on teaching us all a healthy respect for guns and how to handle them safely, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d shot one.
“Happy to help. How much training have you had?”
“I know the basics and was a decent shot when I went to the range regularly. But it’s been a while.”
“So, a refresher.”
“Exactly.”
