Andrew, wriggling in an effort to get down, burbled, “I want to play cars.”
“No way. No way, José. You didn’t act nice at the dinner table. It’s off to bed for you, buddy.” As he carried his squalling son toward the guest room, he said over his shoulder to Dylan, “Catch you later,” and shut the door behind them.
She cleared the table and put the dishes in the dishwasher. She was just finishing up when Mitch came out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.
“He’s down for the count.” Noticing that she’d cleaned up, he said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was nothing.”
Her dismissal had come out sounding curt, and he caught it. He tilted his head. “Are you still mad at me?”
“No.”
He didn’t say anything immediately, then gave a small nod. “I heard from Mary. Hank had four arterial blockages. Tomorrow, he’ll undergo angioplasty to insert stents. After that, a week, ten days of taking it easy. Prognosis, good.”
“A relief to Mary, I’m sure.” She carefully folded a dish towel and draped it over the edge of the sink.
He said, “I think you’re still mad.”
“I’m not.”
Again, he studied her for a moment before continuing. “Sorry about Andrew’s tantrum. They’re rare, but he can pitch a good one.”
“You handled it very well.” He arched his eyebrow skeptically. “No, I mean it. He challenged your authority, and you didn’t give in. His bad behavior wasn’t rewarded. You showed him that bad choices have consequences.”
“I made him tell me he was sorry, then read him a story, hugged him, told him how much I love him, and lay there with him until he went to sleep.”
“All good. Actually, I didn’t even hear him crying after you took him into the bedroom.”
“Well, the deal was that if he didn’t get over the fit that instant, he wouldn’t get to shower.”
“Shower?”
“At his grandparents’ house, he takes baths. When he’s at my house, I take him into the shower with me.” He walked slowly toward her. “And you know how much fun that can be.”
Her femaleness betrayed her by instantly responding to the rumbling tone of a man aroused. Her sensory receptors sizzled with memories of the night before. And damn him! Fresh from the shower, he smelled so good. He came close enough for her to feel his body heat, and yet he wasn’t nearly close enough. She wanted him pressing against her. Into her.
But when he leaned in and attempted to kiss her, she turned her head aside and took a step back. “I’ve been behaving badly and making consequential choices myself, Mitch. Topping the list is sleeping with a patient.”
“I’m no longer your patient.” He closed the distance between them again. “One of the best choices I’ve made in a long, long, long time was to fire you last night.”
“Only John Bowie can fire me, and your therapy is mandatory, so you remain a patient. Besides…”
“What?”
“I am mad at you.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“You were high-handed. You pulled rank. I didn’t like it.”
“I didn’t like it, either. I was an ass. You should’ve deckedme.”
In spite of herself she blurted a soft laugh, then said with irritation, “Don’t joke.”
“Wasn’t joking. Are you still mad?”
“A little, yes.”
