Читать книгу The Mommy Bride - Shelley Galloway - Страница 12

“Girl, you’ve got a date with a doc-tor,” Lynette sang to Claire when the waiting room was empty for the first time since they’d started their shift.

“He’s a resident.”

“Shoot, that counts! You just raised yourself a good two feet, in my estimation.” She paused, looking Claire over with her famous dark-as-night eyes. “Or just lowered yourself into my black book. Everyone knows doctors are egotistical jerks.”

Everyone who knew Lynette Brown knew that her “black book” was the opposite of the proverbial bachelor’s. Inside her book were lists of people she didn’t care to associate with.

Well, so she said.

“Yep, as soon as I get out my pen, I’m going to have to hover it over the Gs and once again weigh the pros and cons of your clearheaded thinking.” Pursing her lips, she added, “Or lack thereof.”

Claire didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or to hit Lynette with the file folder she was carrying. She settled for doing her best to maintain dignity. One of them had to do that, after all. “Stop.”

“No way! This is the most exciting thing I’ve heard about since Jobeth over in radiology announced she was having twins!”

Jobeth’s news had been good. This news was…strange. “Let’s just drop it, can we?”

“Not on your life.”

“Now I’m sorry I told you.”

“I’m not.” Waggling her freshly waxed eyebrows, Lynette whispered, “What else you got going in that top-secret life of yours? You inherit a bunch of money, too?”

“My life’s not top secret.”

“It feels that way. You never give me any news.”

That was because there wasn’t any news to tell. Usually, she liked it that way, too.

Claire couldn’t even joke about her situation. From the moment she’d said yes last Saturday night she’d felt like she was teetering on the edge of a cliff, just one more misstep and she’d fall through the air. It was only because Ty was coming over the following evening—tomorrow night!—that she’d broken her normal code of silence.

Which had not been a good idea. Lynette’s ribbing had been constant and full of mischief.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Forget I even told you.”

“No way. This is the first time I’ve ever heard you knew people of the opposite sex. Most days, you never even notice when a man comes waltzing in our double doors.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Pretty close.” Glancing toward the doors fondly, Lynette murmured, “Remember Hunk-O-Man?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sakes. Not Hunk-O-Man again.”

“Why not? He was the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen in this Petri dish of a waiting room. Blond, blue-eyed, tan. Tall. Cover-model worthy.”

Claire had to admit Hunk-O-Man had been memorable. Especially since he’d only come in with a jammed thumb—nothing infectious. And when they’d found out he’d hurt himself while climbing onto his neighbor’s roof to fix a broken shingle, he’d gone down in waiting-room history as Lynette’s model of the perfect man. Rugged and thoughtful.

Still talking, Lynette said, “I thought we were pretty close, but I’ve never, ever heard you talk about going on a date.”

“That’s because I don’t date. I’m a widow, remember?”

“Well, I’m just glad you’re doing something. Finally. And if it has to be with Dr. Ty I’m-handsome-as-sin Slattery, so be it.”

Claire was saved from a reply by the arrival of an elderly couple sick with the flu and a teenager who’d cut his knees in a bike accident. Dutifully, she escorted them to a semi-private cubicle and took down their vital information.

But in between, she kept thinking back to the heart of what Lynette had been saying. Why now? Why Ty?

Claire could come up with a million reasons she said yes, all having to do with Wes. Still feeling residual guilt for everything she’d put him through when they’d been living on the streets, Claire knew she’d do everything within her power to give Wes what he wanted.

Well, everything within reason.

Had she only said yes because the dinner invitation had been the first thing that sparked life into his eyes during his current grumpy phase?

Maybe.

Or maybe she, too, had a soft spot for Ty. And dinner was dinner…not romance and flowers.

“Ty’s nice,” she told Lynette when they were once again standing behind the counter.

As if sensing she’d teased enough, Lynette squeezed her hand. “I’m glad. Nice is good.”

“We’re just friends, you know. Ty knows Wes from wrestling. In fact, Wes is the one who invited him over.” Claire fought to maintain her look of innocence. Yep, that was Claire Grant, always putting her boy’s needs first.

Lynette’s lips twitched. “Well, I’m glad he did.”

Claire’s stomach was so jumpy, she couldn’t honestly say the same thing. In fact, as the hours to the big dinner marched closer, she was sure it all was a very bad idea.

Really bad.

Especially since they hadn’t discussed any details since their dinner at Skyline. She hadn’t seen Ty more than from a distance all week. He hadn’t called her, either. Maybe she’d just imagined they had dinner plans?

Then, just when she was sure she’d made too much out of We ought to have dinner together on Saturday night, there he was, waiting for her at the end of her shift. “Ty. Hi.”

He smiled right back. “Hi. Hey, Lynette.”

“Dr. Slattery.” Lynette pressed a palm behind Claire’s back and pushed her forward.

Claire moved out from behind the reception desk and a whole lot closer to Ty. “Is, uh, anything wrong?”

“No. I just thought I’d walk you out to your car. It’s dark out.”

Feeling like she was back in high school, Claire sneaked a peek at Lynette before walking to his side. Lynette gave a little wave in response.

Then he was taking her coat from her vise grip and helping her put it on. “Thanks.” Summoning up something to say, she said, “Listen, I’m so glad you’re here. We probably ought to talk about—”

He interrupted. “Hold on, let me make sure I heard that right. You’re glad to see me?”

She rolled her eyes. She was cooking him a meal for Wes. So he could have a man’s company. Not because she wanted to be around Ty. “I was going to say that I needed to give you directions to my house. And, uh, do you like pasta?”

He smiled. “I like everything.”

“I have a recipe for baked ziti. It’s nothing fancy, but—”

“I meant it when I said I like everything,” he said quietly. Slow, like she needed extra time to process his words. And maybe she did. Claire noticed she got suspiciously tongue-tied whenever he was nearby. “I’m sure whatever you make will be great.”

“All right, then.” Breathe deep, she cautioned herself. Don’t think of anything except right now. Unbidden, advice from a counselor flashed clear as day, like a photographer had just stepped into her life and carefully documented a moment in time. Concentrate on today.

Claire supposed Ty’s proximity was making her feel the same way that she used to—flustered. Uncertain. In fact, when he’d halted her dinner talk by resting one hand on her arm, she’d flinched—a knee-jerk reaction to a man’s touch.

He noticed. Just as quickly, he pulled his hand away, an expression crossing his face that Claire knew had everything to do with caution and care.

As the murky glow of the parking-lot light shone upon them and the topic of dinner and what to serve had been exhausted, Claire tried to cover up the burst of tension she felt whenever she was near him. “Looks like snow again.”

Very systematically, Ty placed both hands behind his back. Showing her that he wasn’t going to touch her again without her consent.

Making her realize he knew more about her than she’d thought.

“It sure does look like snow,” he murmured.

Frustrated with herself, with her body’s reaction to sudden touches—thanks to one randomly violent ex-husband—Claire deposited her tote bag on the hood of her car and hastily pulled out a pen and paper.

“My place is easy to get to from here,” she said, unable to bring herself to discussing her flinching. Of course, what could she say? That she was holding on to a bag of past experiences so tightly that it was a wonder she could ever loosen her grip? “Do you know Lane’s End very well?”

“Pretty well. I live here, too.”

Why didn’t she know that? She’d just assumed he lived farther into Cincinnati. In expensive Hyde Park or one of the more trendy places where up-and-coming singles lived.

“I’m in the Arrowlake Apartments.”

“Off Main?”

“Yep.”

She wrote down quick directions even as she said them out loud. “If you go in the second entrance, we’re the far back building…F. Wes and I are on the second floor. Apt. 210F.”

“What time?”

“Seven?”

“Seven’s just fine. I’ll see you and Wes tomorrow night at seven o’clock.”

Their fingers touched when the note was passed. For the first time, though, Ty didn’t look attentive, only troubled. “Would you like me to bring anything?”

“No, it’s my treat, remember?”