“Summer,” he said in a low, deep voice that rumbled against my skin, causing goose bumps to follow in its wake. “I go to Sweeter Things at least twice a week. Usually between seven and eight. Maybe I’ll see you there?”
I dragged my lower lip between my teeth and nodded as his smile grew. He winked, and my eyes widened before Doctor Tom turned back to Dad to finish the appointment.
What had I just agreed to? A maybe-but-maybe-not coffee date with my father’s doctor sometime between the days of Monday through Sunday and the hours of seven and eight? That had to be a pity offer made to make Dad feel more comfortable before the doctor laid down the law about his health or diet. Perhaps he was lulling us into a false sense of security before dropping a bombshell like the operation had failed, or the bloodwork showed that something seriously nasty had invaded his system.
My phone vibrated in my back pocket, and I shook my head, fishing it out, and frowning when I saw who the text message was from. This was not the type of distraction I needed. It had been hard enough to stay focused on this appointment as it was.
Douche Ex:Where are you and why is there a random guy answering the door?
I rolled my eyes, glad Dad and the doctor were deep into a discussion about his blood pressure medication.
Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? He had the house. A new wife. A baby on the way. Even with the pending court date for the inheritance, there was no reason for him to keep in touch. Did the narcissistic jerkface have some complex that wouldn’t allow him to stay away? He was like a slow acting poison, worming its way under my skin and into my bloodstream until every part of me was infected.
Me:Neither of those things are your business.
Douche Ex:It’s my business if we need to discuss something and you’re not home.
Me:There is nothing to discuss.
Douche Ex:I want to know who this guy is and why he’s talking like he knows you.
Douche Ex:The ink is still wet on our divorce papers and you’ve got this caveman sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong?
Douche Ex:Answer the phone!
I silenced my cell and slipped it back into my pocket, shaking my head. Dad was frowning, and Doctor Tom’s hazel eyes darted between the two of us. An awkward silence filled the space, and I forced myself to smile, pushing those pathetic texts to the back of my mind.
“I’ll see you in two weeks, Mr. Winston. Keep monitoring your incision site and let us know right away if anything changes.”
“Sure, doctor,” Dad said, standing from the exam table and holding out his hand. Doctor Tom shook it, then turned to me with his hand outstretched.
I placed my hand in his, and he squeezed, rubbing his thumb along the outside of my hand. The touch was unexpected, and I leaned closer, breathing deep. Leather and spice—maybe cardamom or clove—invaded my senses, tickling my nose and making me scrunch my face. Not that it was unpleasant, more like the smell made my nose tickle and my skin itch. Something was justoffabout his cologne—like he was trying too hard to make a good impression.
“I look forward to running into you at Sweeter Things, Summer,” Tom said, letting his voice drop to a low whisper. “Perhaps sooner than later.”
Speak. That’s what I need to do, right? Use my lips to form syllables that, when strung together, make words. Any words.
“Sure, Tom. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”
He smiled, passing Dad a clipboard with his paperwork attached as well as an appointment reminder, before he opened the door and motioned us to leave. I followed Dad, twisting my hands together as he checked out and we went to the car,wondering what ever-loving nightmare I had just gotten myself into.
Chapter 13
Dad tugged onthe door handle, then paused, looking at me and smirking. I rolled my eyes, glaring as he tugged on the door again, motioning with his eyes to the handle andthen back to me with a dramatic sigh. I uncrossed my arms and removed my keys from my pocket, unlocking the door, and refusing to look at him until we were buckled and out of the hospital parking lot.
“Doctor Tom got you flustered?” he asked, chuckling. But I barely heard his words, too consumed with the realization about Dad and the wanted-but-maybe-unwanted attention from the doctor.
“Hm?” I looked left, then right before turning onto Palmetto Blvd and eyeing a bakery. My mouth watered as we passed the store, and I could almost smell the sweetened coffee and sugary treats.
“I knew once I suggested you check for a ring that you’d run with the idea.”
“What?” I glanced at him, slowing down as the light turned yellow, then giving him my full attention once it changed to red. “I wasn’t listening.”
“Well, that much is obvious. Thinking about that hot doctor?”
“Ugh. If you must know, it caught me off guard when he mentioned meeting at the bakery, but—”
“I knew it!” Dad gushed, squeezing my shoulder and smiling so widely he looked like a demented werewolf before a full moon—all wild hair and large teeth. “I’ll even suffer through you bringing back those bran muffins and spinach quiches if it means you finding someone to treat you right.”
